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cerisereids · 1 month ago

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𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲- 𝐀.𝐇.

Pairing- Aaron Hotchner x Girly!Assistant!Reader

WC- 7.5k (LORDDDD) (literally belle shut up challenge level impossible)

Summary- With your birthday around the corner, you decide to throw a blowout bash. The people you work with have no idea how to let go. Least of all your boss, Aaron Hotchner. Yet, he doesn't show.

Contains- 18+ MDNI, angst to fluffy smut(ish), girly!reader, reader has long hair she can run her fingers through, spicy but no explicit smut (still 18+ tho don't play), non-explicit sex scene, reader standing on business, discussions of Hotch and Haley's divorce

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto !!

The satisfying click of your white kitten heels fill the hallway as you bounce off the linoleum tiles. You’re in a delicate balancing act, juggling a tray of your famous cupcakes as well as glittery pink invitations. Gold lettering splays across the front ‘You’re Invited!’ They’re cheesy little things you had made at the local print shop, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your gloomy office needs some cheer.

You push the door open with your hip, backing into the room with small little steps as you enter the BAU. Your instantly relieved by a pair of strong arms guiding your through the doorway. “Got it, sugar?” Derek’s voice asks, his hands hovering in precaution.

“I am just fine! Here! Take one!” You set the cupcake tray down, plucking one out for him, handing it to him with an invitation. His brow quirks, a small smile rising on his lips.

“What’s all this for?” He asks, bemused.

“Well, my birthday is coming up, so I thought I’d have a big, blowout, bash! It’s been too long since you guys loosened up, really got to let go and have fun!” You squeal, stepping back slightly as the rest of the team quickly finds the dessert. Like bees to honey, you like to say.

“So, you decided that instead of celebrating yourself, to insist on us celebrating you?” Emily inquires around a mouthful of cupcake.

“Pretty much!” You pinch her cheek affectionately, and she giggles. Your gaze turns ever so slightly, catching the window of your boss’ office. Bile rises in your throat. He won’t be so easy to coax out. Both now, and to the party itself. The mere thought of it makes you nauseous.

Emily saddles up beside you, lightly nudging her elbow with yours. She nods to Aaron’s office, and blood rushes to your cheeks. Your gaze drops to the ground, which you scuff with the bottom of your shoe. You lift your head up, your hair falling down your shoulders like a waterfall.

“He in?” You ask, resuming your naturally bubbly state, a wide smile plastered over your anxiety.

“Yup, when is he not?” Emily responds, curious, like a cat. You snap out of your anxious state, giving a playful shrug. You bat your lashes and turn, grabbing the tray and remaining invitations.

“Hey, I wanted seconds!” Spencer calls after you. You roll your eyes, your clicking heels once again the only noise as you walk away. It’s no secret who you’re going to see.

Aaron’s office door is slightly ajar, so you enter the same way you did earlier, by hip. His brow quirks upon your arrival, but you don’t forget to clock the way his eyes catch you, scanning up and down your frame. You wore one of your favorite dresses today, a pink, ruffly number that resembles a sunset. It cascades down your body like it was made for you. By the way Aaron’s looking at you, he thinks so, too. The way he looks at you is electric, like a bolt of lightning cracking your spine as you take each other in. Your breath shortens, catching in your throat at the sight of his tired, brown eyes.

“Hey, big guy,” you lilt, your voice in its usual effervescent tease. You don’t miss the way he flushes down to his neck at the nickname.

“What is this all about, hm?” he raises a brow, his voice smooth like silk. His eyes widen as you set down the tin of cupcakes, revealing their chocolatey goodness to him. His favorite. You hand him an invitation, nerves bubbling in your stomach as he reads it over. Your cheeks heat, like you’re 17 again waiting for an invite to the prom.

Then, he glances up at you. There’s a sparkle in his eye when he looks at you. You’re not sure if he knows it’s there, but you cherish it. You cherish the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, the world. You cherish the way not a single other colleague receives the exact gaze you do, soft, patient, kind. It’s your best kept secret.

You breathe out a sigh at that look, relief washing over you like fresh sunlight.

“Did you make these? They’re beautiful,” he inspects the card in his hands, and your heart thuds against your ribcage, nerves buzzing once again. His nonchalance is like a tightrope, inching you closer either to safety or certain death.

“Thank you,” you reply. It’s quiet. You’re afraid that if you raise your voice, your heart will come out of your throat. “I make them all myself.”

You settle on his desk, resting a light hip on it while you watch him intently. He studies you, eyes flitting over your face as he takes in the glitter of your eyeshadow, the soft swipes of gloss on your lips. His own are parted, tongue peeking out in a tantalizing way that sets your heart aflame.

You raise a brow, asserting an effective upper hand. You watch his brow go soft, and you know you have him. It doesn’t take much for you to convince him. Of anything, really. Since you started working for him, he’s taken actual time off (rarely, but he has), eats dinner at a regular time each night, and manages to get a little more sleep. The team calls it witchcraft, sorcery. You’d call it the sheer force of the desire to keep the man you’re deeply in love with alive and healthy. That’d be too complicated, though, so you bat your lashes and accept their praises.

“That’s really incredible,” it’s soft, his tone. Gentle and low in a way that’s reserved only for you, for these quiet moments in his office. Whether you’re talking about a case, your weekend plans, or the next set of nails you’re getting, he saves this special cadence just for you. Smooth and velvety, liquid chocolate spilling from his tongue.

“Thank you,” your eyes glimmer as you shift on his desk ever so slightly. Your hip pops toward him in a way that has him licking his lips. Confidence surges through, you sit up taller. “Will you be there?” You bat your lashes, your prettiest doe eyes on full display. “It would mean everything to have you there.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hook, line, and sinker.

“Yay!” You squeal, hopping off his desk. You fix him a cupcake, taking the last one on the tray and placing it delicately on a pink napkin.

“You’re only allowed to eat this if you’ve had lunch. Have you?” You’re all business again, in the blink of an eye. You poise a sassy hand on your hip, your brow arching.

“I had a piece of toast and a pickle,” he admits. It’s sheepish, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s a disgusting combo. Have another piece of toast before you eat that,” you roll your eyes playfully before stalking off. A barely audible ‘yes, ma’am’, follows you out. You pause, smiling to yourself before heading to your desk.

“You really think he’s gonna show?” Penelope asks, her tongue swirling around her third daiquiri of the evening. You sigh, popping your hands on your hips as you take a step back from your large window, inspecting your decorative work.

It’s the night before your big party, an event you normally thrive on hosting. Now, though, it’s the cause of the anxiety sparkling inside you, like your heart’s swimming in carbonated water. You adjust the rollers in your hair, the fluffy sleeves of your pink silk robe falling to your elbows as you do so.

You center yourself for a moment, focusing on the comforting way the delicate fabric frames your body, falling over your tank top and sleep shorts. You wiggle your feet, currently stuffed into pink bunny slippers. Your gaze finds the moon, full and round, you absorb it. You welcome anything that helps you not crush under the debilitating weight of your affections for Aaron Hotchner.

“I don’t know! He told me he’d be there!” Your voice is antsy, you wring your hands together with a small smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. While Penelope’s brilliant, she’s not a profiler. She’s also drunk. You pray these two things add up in your favor.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw him go out. Not since the divorce, but if he were for anybody, it’d be for you. That much I know,” she pats a supportive hand on your shoulder, though it does nothing to quell the nausea that comes from the d-word.

You’d been a strong reliant for your boss while he’d finalized his divorce, almost a year ago now. Getting him late night coffees, sitting on the couch in his office while he completed paperwork, bringing in little treats just to make him smile. They always did, everything you did garnered a smile out of him.

That’s why you were teased in your first week on the job, after you’d questioned the team’s comments about their stoic leader. “He smiles all the time, what are you guys talking about?” Their sarcastic grins and chuckling was the first time you were fully aware that the relationship you had with your boss was…different than the others. The amount of time that’s passed since then, the bond you’ve made with your boss, makes your head spin.

Still, you aimed to be respectful everyday. No matter how many details you knew about his issues with Haley, the stress of taking care of Jack while he was away, you kept a professional distance. You would not cross that line. In the year since he’d taken the ring off, though, it’s been…different. A wall has come down, a layer unshed. You don’t know what to do with it, with him.

“Hey, does this look good over here?” Emily calls, snapping you out of your Aaron-induced haze. You plaster another smile on your face, though this time it’s not too difficult. You were thankful to merely witness J.J. propping Emily up on a stool so she can pin a pink disco ball in the center of your expansive living room. Relief washes over you, the love for your friends momentarily distracting you from the ache in your chest.

“Looks great, thanks Em!” you pat her ass playfully, laughing when she squeals.

“Anything for you, my darling!” She calls after you as you make your way through the living room to the kitchen, grabbing your own glass of the elixir that now has Penelope fully slumped forward on your kitchen island.

“Pen? You good?” You nudge her slightly, and she jumps at the contact.

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I’m great! Cool as a cucumber!” She adjusts her own pajamas, a buttery yellow silk set that comes with a matching eye mask.

You laugh, shaking your head as you pour your own drink. “You really think Aaron will come tomorrow?” You ask her, your voice is meek. You hate it, that this is what he does to you.

“I would be truly shocked if he didn’t, my sweet,” she answers, and though her words are slightly slurred, her tone is serious. You smile.

“I agree!” Emily calls, walking into the kitchen to refill her own cup. J.J. trails behind her, nodding emphatically.

“I mean, have you heard anyone else here call him Aaron? Like…ever?” J.J. says. You jokinglya move your head side to side, rattling the thought around your head. They all giggle at your response, and your cheeks heat up. You rest your chin on your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with the giddy group.

“He’ll show. Don’t even worry about it,” J.J. states, the others nodding in agreement.

You blow out a sigh, downing the rest of your drink in one swig.

The bass from the speaker reverberates through your house, the walls nearly shaking from the vibrations. You’re only slightly tipsy, a bit dizzy as you slide open the glass door leading to the patio. Nearly every square inch of the pool is full of people, bodies bobbing around, elbows above water to preserve red solo cups.

The wind blows through your hair, your eyes falling shut. You try to bask in it, absorb the setting sun as you had with the moon the night before. It’s not working. Aaron still hasn’t shown. Your attempts to not get upset about it are weak, feeble, an embarrassment. You thought fresh air would do you some good, but now, in your tipsy, clouded haze, you scan the crowd of faces. Some of them you know, most of them don’t. Above all else, you still don’t see the one you want. You feel stupid for thinking you would. Your heart splinters, cracks in the foundation breaking the whole.

You sit on the porch step, your face falling to your hands. What’s wrong with you? Throwing parties is like a love language to you- Gatsby himself would be jealous. It’s not atypical for friends of friends of friends to find themselves in your yard. Tonight, though, you’re upset. Upset that none of them are there for you. Upset that you don’t even matter. Upset that the one person who could fix this feeling hasn’t shown. He isn’t here for you. After everything, everything you have done for him. After he promised. Tears prick the insides of your eyes, and you release a shuddering breath.

“Hey, Party Princess!” You look up to find Penelope, arm in arm with Derek. Both of them look a bit too drunk for their own good. Penelope’s face falls immediately upon seeing your teary gaze, your pouty lips.

“Oh angel! What’s going on?!” She squeaks, sitting down beside you immediately. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, and you lean into them instinctively.

“Someone special not here, pretty girl?” Derek asks, crouching down to meet your eye level. The acknowledgement of your situation only makes the tears fall.

Penelope forces your head parallel to the ground. “Look down! Don’t let the tears streak your makeup!” You release a wet laugh at that, inspiring laughter from Derek and Penelope as well. You can hear the relief in theirs, that Aaron Hotchner hasn’t rendered you incapable of laughter.

You feel Derek’s hand over the expanse of your shoulder, a warm, comforting grip that soothes you only slightly. Your gaze is still on the concrete, shame creeping up your spine at your emotions. “I’m sorry, guys,” you splutter, tears falling faster now.

“No! No, don’t apologize,” Penelope squeals, finding a tissue in her bag and handing it to you. “Blot those pretty eyes, hon, and let’s go dance! Don’t spend your birthday crying over some guy!”

You do as she says, closing your wet eye so your lash meets the tissue, small bits of mascara left as residue. You finally lift your head up, meeting Derek’s gaze. “There she is!” He smiles, “the most beautiful girl in Quantico.”

“Hey!” Penelope smacks his bicep. He laughs, holding a hand there in a show of faux pain.

“Sorry, one of the two most beautiful women in Quantico,” he responds, walking backwards to the bar. He grabs you a shot of tequila, your favorite, and propositions you.

“That’s much better,” Penelope smirks, satisfied. She moves from beside you, ready to assemble a lime and some salt. You stop her, a hand to her forearm. “No need.” You throw back the shot, your head tilting all the way back as you down the burning liquid. It singes your throat, and you wiggle your head from side to side as it goes down.

That same counterfeit smile curls your lips, your eyes just as sad as they were before. “Let’s party!”

Aaron Hotchner is a piece of shit. He knows this. His ex-wife knows this. Hell, Jack probably knows it, too. But now she knows it, and for some reason, that’s his final straw. He stands at her front porch, suit jacket long abandoned, tie forcefully loosened from hours of hunching over his desk. His hair is messy, thanks to his fingers running through it every 5 minutes. The bags under his eyes have darkened throughout the night, and he can tell from his reflection in the window that he looks like hell. The last place he should be is at a party, let alone this party.

He takes in her expansive house, a gift she inherited from her parents once they moved to Calabassass, she told him once. The front is made of classic white stone, a baby blue trim framing the door and windows. It looks as if it hasn’t been touched in years, only to fine tune and keep it looking pristine. Though, the perfection on the outside provides a direct contrast to what little he can see going on inside. He has a view of the kitchen from where he stands, empty beer cans line the kitchen island, pink streamers and popped balloons litter the floor.

He sees the outline of someone familiar enter the kitchen. Penelope, if the bouncing blonde hair streaked with hot pink was any indicator. He watches as she stumbles about, a large figure, Derek, holding her up by the elbows as she attempts to make a mixed drink. He hopes it’s not for herself. He then realizes what a creep he must look like, a dark figure standing alone in front of a house that’s not his, staring in the window at a party he failed to attend. He turns, ready to leave, firm in his decision that this was all a big mistake to begin with.

He stops, though from the opening of the door. He whips his head around, relief and disappointment washing over him to see Emily. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if it had been her opening the door. Fall to his knees, grovel, probably. His cheeks tint a bright red at her knowing, disappointed stare. “You fucked up tonight, Hotchner,” her affirming tone washes over him like he’s been dipped in acid, singeing his skin and finding its way to his guts. He’s nothing but a puddle.

“Where is she?” He asks. It’s meek, feeble. A tone nobody he’s ever worked with heard him use. Emily raises her brow at that, both in shock and suspicion.

“The backyard, near the pool. She’s had a lot to drink, though. So be careful. You may not be someone she wants to see right now.” Emily’s pitiful smile only makes him feel worse. He can’t leave now that he’s been spotted, though. It would catapult him from normal amounts of jackass to the jackass Olympics, something he’d never be able to recover from. Not when it comes to her.

He follows Emily in, the remnants of what seemed like a blowout bash now diluted to a handful of bodies in each room. Most of them are the team, who are shooting him looks of shock and pity as he makes his way through the house. His heart beats through his ears as he slides the glass door open, stepping under the pink balloon arch to find her.

She’s sitting alone on the edge of the pool, her feet dipping in slightly. He takes her in, giving him a brief moment of selfish reprieve before she sees him, before he has to confront the ways in which he’s broken her heart tonight. A floral pink dress flows around her, the sleeves billowing in the wind. The ruffles of the tiered dress are bunched around her hips as she sits, the hemline raised to prevent wetting the fabric. She’s a vision, the pale moonlight ghosting over her frame like a spotlight made just for her. His heart breaks. All of this, and he’s left her so lonely. He is a piece of shit.

The creak of the porch step calls her attention, her head swinging around her shoulder to see who’s come to join her. The look on her face as she sees him…it’s too much to put into words, even for a profiler as experienced as Aaron. He watches each emotion cross her face. Her instinctual reaction was relief, her eyes brightening like a lightning flash through his heart. Her brows furrow soon after, discontent clouding her features. Anger is soon to follow, the pink gloss on her lips shining as they curve downward.

She lands on anger. Stays there as she moves to stand, not caring where the water splashes as she swings her feet out of the pool. She stomps over to him, feet smacking against the pool deck as she barrels into him. The force is light, her drunken state impacting the collision. He still stumbles a bit, catching both her and himself as they tumble.

“Where were you?!” she spits, the fire in her eyes paralyzing. He’s speechless. “I waited for you! I waited for you all night! You said- you said you’d be there! You promised!” Her voice gets louder with each syllable, her fists colliding into his chest with each breath. She turns, walking toward the water once more.

He follows slowly, tentative. His hand reaches to her elbow, fingers lightly touching the skin. She turns, smacking his hand away. He flinches at the sudden contact, not expecting such force from her. “No!” She exclaims. Tears prick her eyes now, her hand is shaking as she holds up a finger in his face. Aaron’s heart splinters at the sight, guilt searing his veins like a deadly disease.

“You don’t get to touch me, you don’t get to act like you’re the victim here. You. Didn’t. Show.” She spits, venom punching every word. He can see the group forming at the door out of his peripheral vision. It’s just the team, thankfully. Though he knows he’s lost this right, he’s relieved random strangers aren’t privy to his colossal fuck up.

“God, I feel so fucking stupid!” She exclaims, running ten fingers through perfectly tousled hair. “Sitting here in this dress, that I picked out for you, at this party, that I only threw for you!” Her voice cracks on that last word, tears finally spilling over her lash line.

“Me?” He mumbles. It’s the first word he’s said to her all night. It makes him feel like an idiot. There’s heat in her gaze, a deadly forest fire. But she’s silent. He keeps going. “You threw this party for me?” He sounds dumb. He knows it even before she rolls her eyes. A fantastic idiot, that’s what he is.

“God, Aaron!” She’s yelling, now. The use of his first name knocks the wind out of him every time. This time, though, with the pain lacing her tone, it hits like a tornado. “For the best fucking profiler in fucking America, you have no clue how to read people!”

He raises a brow at this, and she yanks at the root of her hair, a loud, desperate, ‘ugh!’ tearing from her lips. “I’m so hurt, Aaron, You hurt me. I’m so angry, and I’m so, so in love with you, that I’ll probably fucking forgive you in the morning.”

The words hit him like a bullet train, slicing him clean in half. His mouth falls open, a small ‘o’ that only serves to make him stupider. She stalks over to the bar on the deep end of the pool, leaning over and grabbing a bottle of vodka from the interior. She takes a long swig, eyes falling closed. Tears fall down her cheeks, streaking her perfectly applied makeup. She stumbles a bit, nearing the edge of the water, and his heart rate picks up. He makes the mistake of reaching for the bottle. It only results in a forceful shove, the bottle falling between the two and shattering on the ground.

Her fury only intensifies now. Her vindictive gaze could turn him to stone. He looks down at the mess, catching her shoeless feet. He grips her wrist before she can move. Her bare feet, drunken state, and the shards of broken glass are a recipe for disaster. He doesn’t care how big of an asshole he is, how much she might hate him right now, but he can’t risk letting her get hurt even more. He’s expecting her reaction, an immediate instinct to shove him off of her. He can’t even register the impact it has on his already fragile heart, because in her alcohol induced frenzy, her shove knocks them both in the water.

The splash envelops Aaron like a slap to the face. He opens his eyes immediately, and he doesn’t even register the sting of the chlorine in his eyes. His only mission is to find her, to make sure she’s safe. He sloppily wraps himself around her, bringing them up to the surface. They both gasp upon arrival, breathing as if they’d never get the privilege again. He splays a hand across her back, pushing her toward him until they’re chest-to-chest, until she can’t wriggle out of his grasp. He won’t let her go until she’s safely out of the water.

The frantic rise and fall of her chest against his steadies him. It’s enough to ground him, to help him find his bearings as he spots the ladder leading out of the pool. He feels her relax slightly in his arms as he begins to move, her own wrapping around his neck. He lets out the smallest sigh of relief. She doesn’t completely hate him. With how he acted tonight, he’s surprised he’s even been afforded that much.

He lets her go first, hands finding her waist and lifting her to the first step. His hands hover around her as she stumbles up the ladder, ready for any possible disaster to strike. He follows quickly, his white dress shirt sticking to his skin in a way that would make him feel exposed around anyone else. He rolls his sleeves up to his shoulders, shaking his hair out like a dog. She flinches when he sprays her, giggling quietly. The sweet, fluttering noise is contagious, Aaron laughs himself before muttering a quiet, “sorry.”

He watches her face change as she remembers again. Remember why they ended up in the pool, why she’s mad at him in the first place. Light, joyful eyes darken into a cloudy, stormy gaze. Her eyes are like a bow and arrow aimed right at his heart, ready for the kill. He’s ready to admit defeat, to just lay there and let her skin and eat him alive. He avoids her gaze. Cowardly, he knows.

“So. Fucking. Unfair.” They’re punctuated by a look of desperation and disdain, desire and destruction. His head shoots up again at that, shame creeping up his spine once more. It settles in his neck, constricts his airflow.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve treated you terribly tonight and-”

He’s cut off by a groan that could spark an earthquake. She pulls at the roots of her wet hair in frustration. “Not that. Well- partially that. It’s fucking unfair that you get to skip my party, break my heart, show up, and then emerge from my pool looking like some sort of Adonis. Un-fucking fair, Aaron Hotchner.”

She moves closer to him with each passing word, to the point where his name is merely a whisper, uttered to him only inches from his own face. He studies her, the water droplets falling down her tear-stained face, the look in her eye, now softened to one of desperate devotion, despite all he’s put her through tonight. She’s breathtaking. Just as she was the day they first met, and everyday since then. An otherworldly beauty that has seemed to captivate him, mind, body, and soul.

She inches even closer, her fingernails raking up his bare forearms. A shiver unzips his spine, invoking a light chuckle from her. As her lips inch ever so closer to his own, he nearly lets himself get lost in it. When she releases a shaky sigh against his mouth, the potent stench of vodka strongly reminds him that she is in no place for such an activity tonight. He scoops her up, folding her over his shoulder as he turns to get her indoors.

He ignores her squeals of protest, the splattering of her palms on his back, though he can’t help but imagine this exact scenario in a different light- one where she’s sober, and he’s carrying her through his bedroom door. He opens the glass door with one hand, sliding it the rest of the way with his hip. He thanks his lucky stars that the only people left are Penelope and Derek, who likely stayed in case of any possible drownings. He nods at them, a succinct, ‘we’re good, get out.’

The message is heard clearly, the two of them shuffling out the door, but not before taking multiple glances at their boss, who’s carrying his hammered employee like a sack of potatoes. He’s in for an absolute earful come Monday, he’s sure of it.

Her room is easy to spot, a bright pink door with her name plastered at the top. He smiles to himself, his heart swelling at the way she revels in her inner child. Sparkly room decor, birthday party invitations, a birthday party in general. He’s almost envious of the way she effortlessly mixes her childish woe with her adult sophistication. Even around the office, she clacks around in whatever heel came out of her rotating closet that morning, all while spouting off fine tuned details of any current or prospective cases.

These are things he’s lost touch with as he’s aged, that whimsy, the wild eyed gaze she gives to new challenges. He hopes she never lets it go. He hopes she’ll be 80 with bedazzled glasses and the best hair in the room. Knowing her, he has nothing to worry about in that regard.

He plops her down on the large couch on the far end of her room, not wanting to douse her bed with chlorine. She needs a good night’s sleep. She whines as she attempts to wiggle out of her party dress, the straps proving to be very stubborn as she maneuvers around the couch. He turns instinctively as she figures it out, her dress bunching around her thighs before she lifts it up over her head. The small sliver of thigh he did see is burned into his brain forever, though. There’s no escaping that.

“Aaron, I need my pajamas,” her voice is soft, tired.

Aaron clears his throat awkwardly. “Where are they, honey?”

He practically hears her gleam at his words. He knows she’s basking in his pet name the way she always does, like a cat who got the cream. “Top drawer. I want the silk pink set,” her voice has a certain lilt to it now that nearly has his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Pink silk. He’ll die. He could just die. It would probably be less painful than handling her delicate sleepwear, throwing it behind him without turning around.

She giggles as she puts it on. “You can look now. I’m all covered.”

He turns, eyes trained on the floor, just in case. He’s truly not prepared for what he sees when he turns around. Her smooth legs are crossed at the ankle, her plush thighs filling out the fabric of her soft pajamas. The top is barely enough fabric to be called such, a thin tank top leaving so little to the imagination, he nearly combusts on the spot. The peaks of her nipples are enough to do him in permanently, to put him in the ground for all eternity. He’d deserve it, too.

“I can’t move. Need you to get me to bed,” she mumbles, her body falling limp against the couch. He rolls his eyes, moving to scoop her in his arms, bridal style this time. The implication makes him choke on his own spit.

“Wait!” She exclaims, just as he’s reached the foot of her bed. He stops in his tracks. “Need to get the rest of my makeup off, Aaron. Need the bathroom.” Her head falls against his chest, and he can’t say no. Sighing, he adjusts her in his arms and carries her to the ensuite bathroom.

He sits her down on the closed toilet, covered in a pink, fuzzy fabric. She wiggles, getting comfortable as her eyes fall shut.

“The soft, fuzzy washcloth on the counter automatically takes off makeup with water. If you could just wet it, I can get the rest.” She’s truly sleepy now, the alcohol taking her over almost entirely now.

He won’t make her do all of that work, not after everything he’s put her through tonight. He heeds only part of her request, wetting the washcloth and ringing out the excess water. He crouches in front of her, putting a gentle hand to her jaw as he begins to lightly scrub the remaining bits of makeup off. She sighs, one of content and exhaustion. His heart soars. He thinks he may have to start going back to church just to make up for the grace he’s been granted tonight.

After he moves through the next two steps- cleanser, then moisturizer, per her instruction- they’re back where they started, at the edge of her bed, her nestled in his arms. He lays her down gently, turning to sleep on her couch downstairs. He’s stopped in his tracks with a single tug to the wrist. His heart stops.

“Stay,” she mumbles. He’s powerless. He peels off his wet clothes, making peace with sleeping in damp underwear, before she mumbles something more. “There’s extra sweatpants in the room to the right. Take them.” He has no choice but to listen.

You wake with a pounding head, the morning light filtering in like a knife designed to split you in two. You groan, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the sober reality you’ve been thrust back into. You’re caught off guard when you roll into an absolute brick wall of a man, panic rising in your throat before you realise who it is. The only positive is that he’s familiar, that you know it’s not some random guy you hooked up with and let stay the night. On the other side of that coin, you’re waking up next to your boss, the day after you confessed your love for him.

The arrival of that memory triggers the rest, and they flood in like a broken dam. Your tears, the vodka, the broken glass, the pool, the way his pecs looked in his white shirt, soaked to the bone and clinging to his chest.

You shake off the thought, though the motion only wakes Aaron. You curse lightly under your breath. It takes everything in you not to crumble at the raspy groan Aaron lets out, seemingly just as surprised to be waking up in a foreign environment. His eyes widen when they find you, pure shock lacing his features before he slowly pieces together the events of the night before. A small smile curves your lips. “Good morning, party pooper.”

Aaron at least has enough gentlemanly instinct to make breakfast. He’s quick to tie your pink apron around his waist, cracking eggs and frying bacon with ease. You perch on one of the stools at your kitchen island, still littered with beer cans and empty solo cups. You sip your coffee as you watch him. You hate how gorgeous he is, how he has the right to look like that even when you’re mad at him.

Sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lack of a shirt tantalizing. Your eyes zone in on the slivers of skin afforded beyond the apron. You squeeze your thighs together at the hair on his tummy, the hair that trails lower, and lower…

You jump as he puts a plate in front of you, not expecting for him to be done so soon. “Oh!” You squeal, the sound muffled slightly by your coffee mug. You’re using the glass dish as a crutch now, holding it in front of your face like a shield. You know he can tell exactly what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it, but it doesn’t stop you. He should know how you’re feeling right now, with him in front of you, looking even more delectable than the fresh, sizzling bacon. But he’s still the same man that broke your heart merely hours ago.

He plates himself before nodding his head towards the semi-clean kitchen table. “Let’s eat there, so that way we’re not talking over pyramids of Sam Adams.”

You smile softly at this, swinging your legs around to hop off the stool. He takes your plate before you can, sitting it at the head of the table. You sit, and take a bite. It takes everything in you not to moan. If it weren’t for last night, maybe you would’ve. You sit in silence for a moment, soft chewing and forks clinking against plates the only noise. The only noise, at least, until Aaron looks directly at you.

“I’m so sorry. I know that there’s not enough apologies in the world to make up for how I’ve treated you. I just- I couldn’t…” his voice trails off. The hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“Couldn’t what?” It’s quiet as it leaves your lips, hanging between you two like a ticking time bomb. His eyes flit to the table, his hands clasped together in what looks like silent, desperate, prayer.

“I couldn’t face rejection again,” he states, plainly. The wheels start turning in your head. Moving, but still unsure of the destination. “You saw so many details of my divorce, the ugly ins and outs. I couldn’t even fathom the thought that you’d be- that you would have any sort of feeling towards me. That you would love me in the way that I love you. Now that I know what I know…”

You’re there. You’ve reached your destination, and you can’t help but collapse your head into your hands and laugh at the stupidity of it all. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at the noise you emit, but it’s all worth it at the smile that appears on his own face, cheeks bunching up around his eyes. It makes your heart swell.

“So, you’re telling me…you didn’t come to my party because you were afraid I’d reject your feelings, and I spent the entire night drinking and crying on rotation because I thought you were rejecting me…” You spell it out, wild hand motions matching the absurdity of the situation.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” He smiles, and heat rises to your cheeks. A silence settles over you then, the gravity of what this means hitting the both of you like a truck. “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, though I know that sounds redundant because of my actions.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle at that, a huff of air conveying multiple emotions at once. “Aaron…I need to know that you won’t just run when things get hard. I know that you and Haley had something…else. I don’t want to be a repeat of that in your healing journey, or get in the way of your duties with Jack, or-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, a warm hand grazing your forearm over the table. “You’re not just a part of my healing journey. I learned a lot when Haley left me. You saw it. You held a heavy hand in that change. You gave me something to strive for, a glimmer after I’d thought I messed everything up. And instead of treating you the way I know you deserve, I ran right back to my old patterns. I can’t explain how sorry I am. How can I make it up to you?”

You raise a tentative brow. “The self awareness is a good sign, Aaron, but I need you to know that I’m a one and done kind of girl. Typically a none and done kind of girl. I’m making a very special exception here, sir.” He nods at this, eyes boring into yours. “You’re not going to keep me if you keep your old patterns. It’s one or the other, and you can make it up to me by making that decision. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

He nods emphatically, fingers lacing between yours across the table. You sigh, a true, genuine smile on your face for the first time since before last night. You finish your breakfast in a content silence before dragging him back up to your room.

“It’s one of the only spots in the house not littered with alcohol!” You’d told him, your reasoning quite sound in your eyes. Aaron rolls his, though a smile persists anyway.

You fall onto your mattress, lifting your arms up for Aaron to join you. He lays beside you, your finger grazing along the waistline of his sweatpants. You revel in the way he shivers at the contact. He makes himself comfortable and you sling a leg across his hips, neck craning up to look in his eyes. A tense silence falls over you two then, thick and wanting. He tests the waters, slowly inching his face closer to yours. You bridge the gap, greedily smashing his lips to yours.

He kisses you like a man starved, his arms curling around your back as he tries to consume as much of you as possible. You break from the kiss, only for him to pepper multiple tiny ones on your lips, his own drifting to your chin, your jaw, your neck. You turn on your side so your chest to chest with him, the feeling of your tits pressed up against his was enough to make your head spin. His rigid body relaxes in your arms as his lips find yours again.

You clutch at his shoulders, a small whimper fleeing your lips in between greedy kisses. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that? Drive me fucking crazy,” he mutters, hands finding the soft skin under your sleep tank. “Yeah?” you coo, and he groans.

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, and you clench your thighs together. His ravenous hands frantically search for every spare part of your body they can find. “Walking around the office in those skirts, those cute fucking heels,” he punctuates his statement with more kisses. Your head is spinning.

“I’m glad you like them, I pick them out just to drive you crazy,” you joke, and revel in the way his eyes roll back in his head. You rock against his hard length, and he shudders.

“I need you. Now.”

Aaron lays still under the covers, fingertips raking up and down her back as if she’s made of porcelain. He releases a shaky breath, lips pressing to the top of her head. She’s drifting in and out of sleep, and the selfish part of him wants her awake, to be there with him, to kiss him some more. The nurturing part of him knows that she needs the sleep, that her hangover likely isn’t helping in her fight to stay conscious.

“I can hear you thinking, y’know?” she murmurs, her words smushed in his chest. He laughs, a small, breathy sound escaping his lips.

“Yeah?” He inquires, voice coated thick with love. “Just thinking about you. About what you need to feel better,” he exaggerates this point by rubbing thick fingers along her scalp. She shudders in response.

“Think I need to sleep,” she mumbles, her lids half shut.

“I think you do, too,” he answers, his never ending smile still on his face. “But I want to be with youuuu,” she drags out the last word, her lips pouty. He kisses them eagerly. She responds with the same fervor, her arms slinking around his neck.

He can feel himself stir again, his now naked frame hiding nothing from the woman in his arms.

“I think you want the same thing,” she says, suggestively. Her eyebrows wiggle as her fingers slide dangerously low. Against his body’s wishes, he grips her wrist gently. She pouts again. He kisses her again. He’ll never get tired of it.

“Boo!” She pouts, and it’s so adorable he almost pulls her on his lap to finish what they started.

“You need sleep, honey. I’m going to clean up downstairs, you let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods as he slides out of bed. He jumps when she swats his ass.

“Hey!” He exclaims, but she just smiles, resting her head on her propped hand.

“What? Like it’s my fault you have a cute butt!” She shrugs. He shakes his head, cheeks flushing as he moves to put on his now-dry clothes from last night.

“Sleep,” He orders. She wiggles her brows in challenge.

It takes all his will power to leave her there, naked and wanting. It’s for the best right now, for both of them. Her lids have returned to their half closed state, and he ghosts another kiss over her lips before he goes.

“I love you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“I love you, too. Get some rest.”

“As long as you’re here when I wake up,” she mutters, nestling into her pillow.

After last night, he couldn’t dream of being anywhere else.

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thesimstree · 14 days ago

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12 Must-Download Fix Mods for The Sims 4

Ever had that feeling when small bugs and illogical quirks in The Sims 4 ruin all the fun? Luckily, modders came to the rescue! This collection features small but genius mods that fix annoying flaws and add a bit more common sense (and fun) to the game. No major overhauls – just targeted fixes that make playing way more enjoyable.

1. Change into Everyday when inside by @littlemssam

With this mod, sims automatically switch from winter outfits to everyday clothes when entering a building. For public lots to work, you’ll need to add the special lot trait "Change into Everyday Outfit."

Download ↑

2. NJ's Faster Sink Interactions by NotJemimi

Finally, quick hand-washing and teeth-brushing: this mod cuts animation time down to a minimum. No more standing at the sink forever, hygiene now takes just seconds!

Download ↑

3. Always CAS Full Edit Mode by @sonozakisisterssims4

No more entering cheats every new session. This mod automatically enables two useful cheats: testingcheats true and cas.fulleditmode when the game launches.

Download ↑

4. More Children at Venues by @sims4me

A must-have foundation for all mods that add more kids to public lots. By itself, this mod doesn’t change child spawns, but no morechildrenat series mod will work without it.

Download the base

And install the desired mods from the morechildrenat series:

More Children at Beaches

More Children At Parks

5. Available Lock The Camera directly from Sim by @bloombatter

Now you can lock the camera onto a sim directly through the interaction menu: just click on any familiar sim or NPC and select the corresponding option. The mod also lets you follow pets, foxes, rabbits, and even ghosts, making gameplay way more convenient.

Download ↑

6. Eat Autonomous Only When Hungry by @sonozakisisterssims4

With this mod, sims will only cook and eat when they're actually hungry – no more unnecessary snacking at the slightest hint of hunger. The mod works not just with fridges but all kitchen appliances, so sims will behave much more realistically.

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7. No Vending Machine Jams by @bloombatter

Vending machines finally work as they should! This fix completely removes the annoying item jams when making purchases. No more nervously saving before every "Buy" click: your sims and townie NPCs can now use vending machines without worrying about bugs.

Download ↑

8. Cool your Berries by smaviking

Potion berries can now be stored in the fridge – no more endless inventory searches! The mod adds a handy storage option for all berry types (and beyond). During installation, you can choose whether to store only berries, only various fruits and veggies, or any harvestable ingredients.

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9. Red Auto Sleep by keincoeur

Now sims will only go to sleep when truly exhausted (red energy bar), not at the first sign of drowsiness. Bonus perk: they can take naps, saving your sims when neighbors throw a late-night rager. As they say, "If you can't beat 'em, snooze through 'em!"

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10. Vampires Can Growl Too! by SweetSimmer

Vampires can now growl just as fiercely as werewolves! This mod adds three new interactions: a terrifying roar that sends bystanders fleeing in panic, a flirty "Bare Your Neck" with playful effects, and a passionate growl for lovey-dovey couples. Finally, bloodsuckers get the charisma they deserve!

Download ↑

11. 'Here's your table' Restaurant Phrase Mini Fix by @sonozakisisterssims4

Waiters in sims restaurants announce "Food is served" the moment your sims sit down – which is weird. This tiny fix replaces the awkward line with five more natural alternatives. Now restaurant NPCs will behave like actual service staff.

Download ↑

12. Eco Lifestyle Community Lot Fix / Community Space / Community Garden / Market Place/ Maker Space by mitchsimmer

This mod repairs broken lots from the Eco Lifestyle expansion that stopped working after the July 2024 update. Just install it to revive awesome community spaces like gardens and marketplaces.

Download ↑

🌱 Create your family tree with TheSimsTree

❓ Support 🌸 Our Blog

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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

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Comfortable

Summary: Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Fluff. Aftercare. Oral sex. Pillow humping. Innuendo. Mentions of masturbation.

Word count: 3.3k

It's a wavering sequence of whimpers that catches Astarion's attention just as he arrives at camp after a late night hunt.

The blood on non thinking creatures seldom presents itself as a decent meal, but he finds it unfair to depend exclusively on you.

The boars in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are delectable enough to blind his hunger for a few hours – maybe a full day, if need be.

The camp seems peaceful and quiet with everyone still catching some rest after in their respective tents, and as the pale moon glows up high in the dark blue sky, he notices the dawn isn't breaking for at least a few more hours.

Maybe he can indulge in a trance to ease his mind and body after feeding, even though it's not a dire necessity.

But it seems that the night has other plans reserved for him.

His steps are light and sure, following the crescendo of sounds that seems to come from near his tent.

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

You.

As he draws near, trying to make out the origin of said whimpers, he vaguely wonders if you're having a dream.

That is the most reasonable explanation.

But then he hears what resembles a muffled groan.

A nightmare?

Instinctively, an eyebrow quirks as he approaches your tent.

And then he freezes.

Even through the obvious failed attempt at reining yourself in, he knows exactly what he heard.

His name. Muffled and barely intelligible, but his name, nonetheless.

An amused smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him that you are indeed pleasuring yourself. Risky and unexpected, but beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Cheeky…

He could simply entertain this, and leave it to you to reach your peak on your own.

Unfortunately for him, he has just fed.

And unfortunately for you, he has every intention of interrupting your solo endeavour.

His usual cool body now flooded with the warmth and vigour that make it extremely easy not to succumb to your sweet and melodic whimpers.

As such, he tugs at the strings that hold both flaps together, successfully drawing a surprised gasp from you.

“You scared me!”

He finds you propped up on one elbow before rushing to sit and pulling a blanket to cover yourself, a mortified look splattered across your face.

The sight in front of him is enough for the recently drunk blood to rush downwards at record speed.

Predictable, but such is the nature of his body when it comes to you.

Flustered and quickened breaths. His senses are so sharp from the recent blood intake, that he can hear your heartbeat drumming fast in your chest.

By now, he knows you well enough.

So well, that he's sure he has just interrupted your climax.

The confirmation comes in the form of a low growl of frustration.

He almost feels sorry for you, but what crosses his mind is the offer of a moment of pleasure so great only he can provide.

“You were close.”

It isn't a question and he doesn't expect an answer.

But you're so visibly irritated that you scowl deeply. “Yes! Yes, I was. Thank you so much for interrupting.”

“My pleasure,” he retorts, knowing fully well he's about to set off a bomb if he doesn't choose his words carefully.

You have a temper he adores to test. He's used to dancing to your tune and knows exactly which strings to pull to get you riled up in ways that often lead to very enjoyable outcomes.

His cock welcomes your huff of annoyance with a faint twitch.

“Why didn’t you just… wait…” you almost cry out in sheer frustration.

He lets out a taunting laugh. “What, and miss out on all of the fun, darling?”

A dramatic pout settles your lips and it takes all of his self-control not to wipe it off your face with a kiss in an instant.

“How many did you take this time?”

It is a glaring taunt.

And your mouth drops open.

Maybe he should have eased his way in, considering the current predicament.

But the way your body is all flustered and heated from your own touch is enough to flare desire inside him. And whenever desire begins to swell inside him, the fine line between reason and pleasure begins to blur.

Mostly because he knows he was the one on your mind when you had your fingers deep inside you.

Your eyes widen slowly, and you clutch the blanket closer to your lower half, still hiding the proof of your arousal from his prying eyes.

You don't reply at first, your pride keeping you silent.

But Astarion doesn't mind. In fact, he enjoys your resistance at first. Makes it all the more enjoyable when you finally give in.

“How many, darling?”

You frown, averting your eyes.

So stubborn…

His cock adores it.

“How many?” his tone is firmer this time and you slowly meet his eyes again.

“... two.”

He clicks his tongue, crouching before you. “Oh, darling…”

Two fingers are not nearly enough to provide the fullness and stretch that only his cock can. But he appreciates your effort nonetheless.

It's quite adorable and enough to have his cock hardening even more.

Your fingers still glisten in the faint candlelight and he feels the sudden urge to have them in his mouth. He never tires of tasting you in more ways than one.

“You do not need to hide from me,” he says tenderly, but still not moving an inch. He wants you to feel comfortable enough under his gaze. “You've bared yourself to me many times, love.”

Still, you don't let go of the fabric, a slash of defiance crossing your face. “You took too long.”

Ah. “Did you miss me?”

You bite your lip, face softening as you nod twice.

And you were so desperate for him that you just couldn't wait?

Gods.

His cock stirs even more against his trousers at the silent realisation.

“And I am here now,” he says, dropping to his knees, as a wicked smile turns his lips. “So, allow me.”

He reaches out with his hand to tug at the fabric, silently looking for your permission.

A shaky sigh parts your lips and he spots a shiver as he pulls the blanket that keeps you from him.

His eyes drop to the sweet spot between your legs and he almost regrets having interrupted you.

Almost.

Your clit is so swollen it deliciously peeks from between your folds, parting them gently. It throbs faintly as he catches your clenching a few times, wetness dripping out.

After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring the twitches of protest from his cock.

He finds your half-hooded eyes. “May I?”

You hesitate at first, nearly pressing your thighs together, but he stops you with both hands on your knees, a reassuring grip that has you slowly but surely loosen up under his touch.

“You don't have to…”

No, he doesn't.

But he wants to.

In fact, he thinks he needs to.

He rubs circles along your flushed skin, wanting your full attention on him before he speaks, “I appreciate the concern, darling, but I'm impossibly hard and you look incredibly delectable.”

It's more than enough to have you yearning for more, as a surprise gasp parts your lips.

You finally nod, spreading your legs and leaning back as you settle on your elbows.

He offers a sly grin, lowering and positioning himself right where he craves to be.

But not before he eases some of the growing tension on his lower half. The blood coursing through his body is more of an inconvenience for now, and he's sure, under different circumstances, he'd have better control over this.

Or maybe not.

Maybe you're just that good for him.

You jerk slightly when his mouth draws near your slick folds.

“Wait.”

And he does, his concentration slightly shaken as he promptly scans your face for any cause for alarm.

“Just… don't leave afterwards.”

Don't leave–

Astarion's lips are so close to your clit, he has to pull back slightly so he can have a proper look at you, his hardened cock still straining against his undergarments.

“What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed.

There is hesitance in your eyes. “You tend to leave after… like you don't want to be here with me.”

That sounds like a whiplash to him, because it is not true at all.

Your words take him by surprise and he immediately worries he may have said or done something that could be interpreted as mixed signals.

“Darling, I–”

But you immediately shake your head. “If you can stay after… I'd appreciate it. Only you want to, of course,” you quickly add. “It doesn't feel right otherwise…”

It isn't a request. Nor a plea.

It's just what feels right.

He's done this many times to the point of instinct. It comes natural to him to please others. The aftermath, though, is something that he's also used to forgoing. The mess, the sweat, the fluids… the unnecessary and forced talk…

But you are different, aren't you?

You are not… the others.

And after all you've been through, he feels his mind nearly snap in half as he realises just how much he's still holding back with you.

Even something as simple as just staying still felt… tainted.

Slowly, he nods.

And slowly, your lips turn into a tender smile that he's grown to adore beyond comprehension.

“I'll stay.”

You heave a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Astarion counters the impromptu detour with unmatched expertise, lowering his head and admiring just how eager your body is for him.

Before he drags his tongue along your folds, he slithers his hand down to reach for the front of his trousers, hurriedly undoing them.

It's his turn to sigh in relief as his cock is set free.

But now he misses the friction and the carpeted floor of your tent feels too rough.

His eyes roam around in search of something – anything – more comfortable.

And then he's caught off guard by your offer.

“Maybe this will help.”

A pillow.

He chuckles deviously, appreciating your creativity in moments such as these. Promptly, he takes it in his hand and positions it under him, his cock welcoming the soft surface.

“I adore that mind of yours,” he says cheekily.

You are about to voice a reply, but no word comes out when his tongue hits your entrance.

Immediately, your hips buck and his smile never wavers.

He knows what you crave, but he will take his time even if you're already close to the edge.

After all, he's addicted to his devotion to you even if he never utters it out loud. He prefers his actions speak for themselves. Words are treacherous and deceiving. Actions speak louder.

And so he indulges in you. He indulges you, because that is what keeps him from reaching the frayed ends of his mind.

You're what grounds him these days.

And he will ground you with him.

As such, he drags the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness and he only stops once it finds your clit.

A soft moan escapes your lips and he hopes you have it in you to keep it down so as to not wake the others.

He locks eyes with you one last time. “Are you ready, darling?”

Your hips roll twice, but he knows you're not ready. You never are for the pleasure he offers to you so passionately.

Another roll and he knows you're growing impatient, so he gives your clit a quick swipe of his tongue before he latches.

He doesn't begin suckling hard right away, as he needs to ensure he can steady you for what's to come. Both arms loop around your thighs and he allows his eyes to flutter shut, losing himself in you.

It amazes him how your body responds to him, and your hips try to find a desperate rhythm as if you're riding his cock.

The pillow under him provides enough friction for him to roll his own hips, eager to match your tempo.

He could feel the wetness drenching the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care.

Your hand finds his curls and he growls against your clit as you tug gently, but evidently craving more.

And more he gives you.

He's sucking more fiercely this time, taking his time to savour the swell in between his teeth. From this angle, he can feel your wetness coating his chin. He can't directly feel it, but he just knows you're clenching desperately around nothing.

Maybe he should take it slower.

Maybe he should pry you open with two of his fingers, even though you're wet enough to take a third one.

But the unexpected friction caused by the pillow is begging to edge him beyond belief.

Is it from the blood he drank? Is he just so ridiculously aroused? Why is your clit so swollen this time? Is it from his incessant suckles?

His mind turns into haze and he decides he's not looking for any logical answers.

He simply allows his hips to move on their own accord, matching the face with each suckle.

“Astarion… Gods…”

You're fortunate his mouth is kept busy, or he'd hurl a snarky reply. Gods have no place here. The delicacies of carnal bliss are reserved for those who tread the earth.

He's the only one who'd ever worship you, and you'd worship him right back, because that's how it's meant to be.

Precum drips from his tip at an alarming rate. He's too hard. He's too aroused. His body is seeking to be inside yours.

But he decided against it.

No.

He wants to see you unravel for him and in front of him.

His eyes open once again and he takes in the sight of your body undulating. Skin all flushed and eyes read to drop close as you near the precipice.

As always, his latch is impeccable. He never lets go and takes pride in leaving you dripping for him.

A few droplets run down his chin and dangle from it, bestowing upon him the most enticing silent praise he could ask for.

He knows you're close when your fingers close around his curls, desperately rocking your hips against him.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his chest and he's starting to struggle to keep his pace.

He has to find a way to still his hips before you reach your climax in fear you'll drag him along with you far too soon.

And so he does.

This time, he wants to see it.

He wants to see you as you come for him.

He's mostly perplexed that you found a way to muffle your moans, your shirt rolled up and captured in between your teeth, granting him the privileged view of your heaving breasts and hardened nipples.

Momentarily, his hips threaten to buck driven by pure instinct.

But he manages to hold back.

And when he's sure you're too far gone, head tilting back and legs shaking ever so slightly, does he unlatch from your clit.

He pulls back enough to witness the first sets of contractions course through your body.

Wetness drips from his chin, and he can't tear his gaze from the mesmerising way your entrance clenches rhythmically before him.

He's felt those contractions many times. He is well aware of just how vicious and relentless they can be around his cock, never failing to draw every last drop of his cum deep inside you.

Your muffled cries and the way your hips still momentarily, are all he needs to get lost in his own pleasure again.

He props himself high enough to place his hips at the right angle, rolling them urgently against the soft fabric of the pillow.

He's so close… so deliciously close.

Your taste lingers on his tongue and the vision of you still writhing under him holds his gaze almost painfully.

Your fingers ease on his curls and he feels the familiar tightening of his balls warning him that he's about to reach the point of no return.

It comes and overtakes his body so violently his mind blanks for a brief moment, as his mouth drops open.

He wants to groan and growl and hiss, but no sound comes out.

The friction is so overwhelming, he can't help but to lose balance, his lips finding your swollen clit once again.

And just like before, he latches instinctively and you try to jerk away from him, definitely being hit with a sting of oversensitivity.

He comes undone, suckling on you harder than ever before.

Ropes of cum spill from him rhythmically, his own contractions taking over. He can feel the fabric underneath him drench with each thrust, and he vaguely wonders how much of it he still has left in him.

Your clit is now the only thing grounding him as he rides out his climax and, in the far corner of his hazy mind, he's thankful that you eased into him once again, granting him the solace he is seeking so desperately.

There's only so much he can withstand as his senses are flooded with overwhelming pleasure, and he finds himself unlatching and almost slumping against your lower abdomen.

He's spent.

Utterly spent.

He thinks he hears a tender giggle, but maybe it's simply his mind playing tricks on him.

With effort, he hoists himself along your body, collapsing, the side of his face resting against your stomach.

He wants to say something, but he's rendered silent by the aftershock of his climax.

And that's when he feels your fingers again, raking along his scalp and through unruly curls.

“Are you leaving?”

He says nothing.

Your fingertips work their magic along his skin and he's sure you can lull him into a trance if you so wished.

You're too powerful and he's too in love with you to care.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is low and sweet and he hums in return, arm wrapped around your waist.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

Who's he to deny you of it? Or himself?

He's sweaty and his cock drenched in cum and precum and you're a mess yourself. Hardly the epitome of romance.

Or maybe he's wrong because when you bring a soft piece of cloth to his temple and drag it along his face, he suddenly gets it.

He finally understands why you want him to stay.

Why it makes sense.

His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your tenderness and adoration.

You hum a soft tune under your breath, cleaning him up.

Face and neck first.

“Can you shift higher?” you ask.

He realises your intentions and lifts his head to stare at you.

“You don't have to.”

All you do is offer him a smile. Your smile. “I want to. Allow me, lover.”

No one has ever taken care of him. No one has ever bothered to. Not until you.

He silently does what you asked, too stunned to come up with a clever tease.

His eyes flutter shut in what comes close to embarrassment. For some reason, he feels more exposed than ever when you wrap the cloth around his cock.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” you say, your voice but a whisper.

He immediately shakes his head. “Not with you.”

A hiss parts his lips as you tenderly take care of him.

Astarion rests his head just above your breast and

“Do you wish to talk?” he asks.

Your lips find their way through his damp curls, placing a kiss atop his head.

“Do you want to?”

He chuckles, feeling his cock soften in your hand – definitely a first. “I fear I'm too drained to do so.”

“Silence it is,” you say and he feels your warm breath against his skin.

Not just any silence.

Comfortable silence.

The rare type old romance books mention in passing and that many seek to no avail.

But he's found it because he's found you.

Masterlist

#astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader

3K notes · View notes

byhuenii · 26 days ago

Text

Cake by the Ocean

Pairing Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Synopsis a chaotic beach day turns into a bonfire full of bad karaoke, worse dancing, and you & bucky being dangerously cute. pure unhinged fun.

Word count 8.1k

Tags + Warnings f!reader, alcohol mention / drinking, mild language, reader is a little tipsy, flirty banter galore, so much chaotic energy, mentions of being tied up (in a funny way, not serious!), cringe but make it wholesome, lowkey emotional whiplash via Bucky’s soft side, drunk Tony Stark deserves his own warning tbh, off-screen violence mention, mock-violence / fake threats, light suggestiveness, mention of fresh 2022.

— Cake by the Ocean beach day with the avengers: 0% normal, 100% chaos.

The Avengers at the beach was either a masterstroke of genius… or a catastrophic miscalculation.

The sun was high, the breeze was warm, and the sand was hot enough to burn the soles off Thor’s flip-flops (which were, in fact, just two cut-up Mjölnirs Steve duct-taped together as a “punishment” for skipping beach duty sign-up). Everyone was in vacation mode—half of them should’ve been monitored, the other half were monitoring but gave up after Wanda spiked her floatie drink and levitated herself into a nap.

You were laid out on a pastel towel that had glittery pineapples printed on it, shades perched on your nose, tanning oil glistening on your skin. Beside you were Natasha, Wanda, and Kate sprawled in various degrees of sun-dazed glam, bikinis matching their sass levels. Music thumped from Tony's giant Bluetooth speaker setup, which was definitely not waterproof but “definitely is Iron Man approved,” as he declared while sipping what was definitely not a kid-friendly drink from a pineapple.

"[Name]’ Natasha said lazily, flipping a page in her fashion magazine, “your man’s about to launch Peter into the stratosphere.”

You lifted your sunglasses and peered out over the sand, and hoo boy—

Bucky Barnes was a sight. Saltwater in his hair, sand clinging to his back, sun glinting off that metal arm, and board shorts riding just low enough to make your heart consider doing cartwheels.

Peter was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, flailing. "Bucky, Bucky—no! I just ate! This is child endangerment—" "You think I care, Spider-Boy?!" Bucky barked in mock rage. “You touched my cold brew, you little menace!”

With a war cry that would’ve made Thor proud, Bucky ran full speed into the ocean and launched Peter into the water with zero hesitation.

You were full-on cackling as Kate snapped a shot with her vintage digital camera. “That one’s for the ‘Blackmail 2025’ folder.”

Wanda smirked. “I thought this was supposed to be beach therapy. This is glorious.

“I feel healed,” you added, reaching for your iced drink.

Meanwhile, under a leopard-print umbrella (Nat’s, obviously), the girl gang was in full gossip mode.

Kate, sporting sunglasses bigger than her head, was flicking through her digital camera, making running commentary.

“Okay, okay—this one of [Name] mid-scream while Bucky sprints toward the ocean? Art. I might make it your lock screen.”

“Send it to me,” Wanda said instantly. “Also, [Name]. Spill. That man feeds you strawberries, kisses you like he’s in a period drama, and looks like he could bench-press the jet. Are you okay? Emotionally? Hydrated?”

You laughed, hiding your face in your hands. “I don’t know what to do with him! He’s like… annoyingly romantic without trying.”

Nat nodded knowingly. “That’s how you know it’s real. Bucky doesn’t do things unless they mean something.”

Kate gasped. “He gave you his last bite of his breakfast this morning. I saw it. That was a symbolic gesture.”

“He literally carried me into the ocean as soon as we got here.”

“Symbolic and dramatic,” Wanda agreed. “Perfect match.”

Then—Steve walked by.

Soaked, abs shining like the sun itself, golden light haloing around him as if he were the lost Hemsworth brother.

He tipped his head toward your circle with a gentlemanly nod, lips quirking.

“Ladies.”

Every one of you blinked.

“...Did he just—” Kate began.

“—walk by like the cover of a firefighter calendar?” Wanda finished.

“Why was that so smooth?” you whispered.

Nat didn’t even look up. “It’s the serum. It gives them swagger.”

—

You were lying on your towel, sprawled like a lizard soaking up the heat, when a shadow fell over you.

“Flip,” Bucky said, a little gruff.

You raised your brows. “Excuse me?”

He held up a bottle of sunscreen with a single shrug, then crouched down beside you. “Gotta keep that pretty skin safe.”

You smirked but rolled over, propping your head on your arms.

And then—

Oh.

Slow hands. Gentle pressure. He started at your shoulders, thumbs working in careful circles, rubbing the sunscreen in like you were fragile or sacred or his. His touch dragged down your spine with a patience that made your breath catch. His metal hand stayed steady, cool, while the other lingered a bit too long at the dip of your lower back.

You shifted slightly, biting your lip.

“Concentrating,” he muttered, voice rough. “Don’t move. Can’t miss a spot.”

“Sure,” you whispered, heart pounding.

And then—smack.

A quick little ass tap, shameless.

“Bucky!” you gasped.

He just smiled, leaned down next to your ear, and said, “I’m making sure everything’s covered, doll.”

—

It started as a joke—you sitting behind Bucky, legs on either side of his hips, twisting a small section of his hair while he helped Peter fix a busted floatie.

“Stop moving,” you said, tongue between your teeth as you focused.

“I don’t even know what you’re doing,” he grumbled.

“You’re getting a braid, soldier. Suck it up.”

Peter giggled. “You’re gonna be so cute.”

Bucky: “I will put you in the sand.”

But he let you finish. You tied it off with a tiny elastic Kate had in her bag.

Later, when Sam noticed, he snorted. “Barnes, you got a lil’ friendship braid.”

Bucky immediately went, “She attacked me. I didn’t know.”

“You let her,” Nat called from behind her sunglasses.

He huffed—but didn’t take it out.

Not for the rest of the day.

Not even during volleyball.

And when you kissed it later, gently, he muttered, “Might need another tomorrow.”

—

The sun was high, the waves lapping lazily, and suddenly—because Tony Stark doesn’t do casual—a giant, inflatable obstacle course had magically appeared on the shore. Bright colors, ridiculous twists and slides, even a little slip-and-slide that looked like it belonged on a water park commercial.

“Why?” you asked Tony, raising an eyebrow as he strode past with a grin.

“Because beach day is a competition,” he declared. “And I win.”

Peter’s eyes lit up instantly. “Challenge accepted!”

You glanced at Bucky, who gave you a slow smile, fingers tightening around your hand.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Always.”

Peter took off like a rocket, determined to destroy the course. But two minutes in, he hit a slippery patch, flailed wildly, and wiped out spectacularly—face first into the water.

“PETER!” Tony shouted from the juice bar. “Keep it together, kid!”

Bucky grinned, helping you start the course. He was steady and sure, careful as he guided you over the wobbly parts, his hands warm and firm on your waist.

Midway through, he suddenly stopped near the edge, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hold on,” he said, and before you could protest, he pulled you toward the water, plunging you both in with a splash that soaked you from head to toe.

You sputtered, laughing as he leaned down and kissed you—wet hair, salty skin, and all.

“Worth it,” he murmured against your lips.

Meanwhile, on the sand, Wanda was conjuring floating glowing orbs—soft, warm spheres of light that bobbed gently above the ground.

“Try to juggle them,” she challenged, tossing one to Nat, then one to Clint, then another to Sam.

What started as a graceful display quickly turned chaotic as the orbs floated unpredictably, bobbing out of reach or colliding midair.

Clint tried to catch two at once and ended up tumbling backward, knocking over Sam who shrieked louder than Peter ever had.

Wanda just smiled mischievously. “Maybe next time, fewer orbs.”

Suddenly, a piercing shriek echoed from the other side of the beach.

“A CRAB!” Sam shouted, scrambling backwards.

Turns out a crab had found its way into someone’s beach bag, its claws clicking menacingly.

Clint, ever the animal whisperer, immediately got down on the sand and tried to coax the crab like it was a tiny puppy.

Bucky’s expression hardened, and he moved quickly to pull you behind him.

“Nope. Not today,” he said, eyes sharp as the crab advanced.

You laughed, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling safe and amused as Clint debated naming the crab “Sir Pinchy.”

—

Later, Tony was parked under the umbrella like a beachside DJ, spinning between '80s rock, summer pop, and aggressively inappropriate Pitbull songs. Kate was passing out juice boxes to Peter and the younger crew like a chaotic lifeguard mom. Clint was inexplicably playing volleyball while blindfolded. ("Training.")

"Alright, nerds!" Sam shouted, bouncing the volleyball in his hands. "Court's open! Battle of the century. Let’s go!"

Teams were chosen with chaotic precision:

—You and Nat: Code Red Dream Team.

—Steve and Clint: Super Soldiers and… Steve’s emotional support Hawkeye?

—Peter and Tony: The Smartasses.

—Sam and Bucky: The Trash-Talk Titans.

Kate and Wanda stood at either end with whistles, caps, and printed referee cards. (Where did they get those? You didn’t know. You didn’t ask.)

Kate had on her biggest bucket hat, clipboard in hand like an Olympic coach. Wanda stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes glowing red for “ref dramatics.”

Kate blew a whistle she definitely stole from a lifeguard stand. “Game one! First serve—[Name] and Nat. Try not to get sand in your egos!”

You stepped up, squinting in the sun. Nat stretched beside you, looking entirely unbothered.

“This is for our honor,” you whispered.

“And our thighs,” Nat replied. “We’re going to look amazing spiking this ball.”

You served. Clean. Perfect. The ball zipped straight into Tony’s chest.

“Ow! Ow, okay, someone deflate her,” he wheezed.

“I like her inflated,” Bucky muttered from across the court.

“EXCUSE ME?” Sam hollered, eyes wide.

Wanda didn’t even blink. “Penalty for being horny during the serve.”

Bucky: “What?! That’s not—”

Kate blew the whistle again. “Shut up and rotate!”

Cue a montage of mayhem:

—Clint accidentally spikes the ball into Steve’s face and yells “friendly fire!”

—Tony tries to use repulsors to hover for a save. Wanda floats him two feet backward out of bounds. “No tech, Stark.”

—Peter dives for every ball like it’s the end of the world and somehow takes out three umbrellas and a cooler.

—Nat is scarily good and no one’s shocked.

—You score a point on Sam with a fake-out set and Bucky whoops so loud you nearly trip over yourself laughing.

“You’re going down, Barnes,” you called, flipping your ponytail as you took your position.

Bucky winked from across the net, already spinning the ball in his hand. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re not ready for this heat.”

The match that followed could only be described as Olympic-level drama.

Steve dove for a save that turned into a sand-eating faceplant. Peter accidentally webbed the ball into the snack table. Tony screamed “I AM IRON SPIKE” and hit the ball into low Earth orbit. Sam and Bucky somehow did a coordinated dive that was both completely unnecessary and utterly majestic.

Wanda kept giving out yellow cards. Kate took it so seriously she was threatening to call Fury mid-match.

You? You spiked that ball so hard on Clint he tripped into a cooler.

“You’ve got arms of mass destruction!” he yelled from the ground.

Then, the moment of cinematic chaos:

You’re off court, catching your breath, and Bucky’s mid-play. He’s shirtless (rude), sweaty (ruder), and concentrating so hard he doesn't notice he's being watched. But then he hears it—your voice.

“Let’s go, Barnes!” you shout from the sidelines, cupping your hands around your mouth. “Use those arms!”

He glances back mid-run, smirking—

And immediately eats it face-first into the sand because Sam passed the ball without warning.

Tony shrieks. Peter yells “man down!” and Clint wheezes from laughter.

From the sand, Bucky groans, turning over slowly. “You did that on purpose.”

You jog over, hovering above him with your hands on your hips, trying not to laugh. “I was literally cheering for you.”

He grabs your ankle.

“Bucky—!”

And just like that, he hauls you down onto the sand, flipping you until you’re under him, his metal arm braced beside your head.

“Now we’re both out,” he says smugly, eyes sparkling.

“You’re gonna get sand in my—”

He kisses you.

“Penalty!” Kate calls, blowing her whistle wildly. “You can’t kiss during a timeout!”

“Wanda, enforce it!” Sam shouts.

But Wanda just shrugs. “They’re cute. Let them live.”

—

The ocean had calmed, volleyball lines now half-faded, and the team gathered under a massive sunshade Tony had somehow rigged with repulsor-powered cooling fans. (Because, “sweating is a war crime.”)

Lunch was a full spread: sandwiches, fruit platters, chips, a suspicious amount of guac, and desserts Wanda had magicked into existence with a flick of her wrist and zero FDA oversight. Everyone sat scattered on beach towels and folding chairs, lazily reaching for snacks, plates balanced on knees, drinks in sand-embedded cupholders.

You were perched between Bucky’s legs, your back resting against his chest as he sat up behind you, legs on either side of yours, his vibranium hand holding a plate while his other casually plucked a strawberry and lifted it to your lips.

“You first,” he murmured, low and soft, that small smile he always gave just for you on his lips.

You gave him a look. “What, you’re not gonna eat unless I do?”

He shrugged. “Can’t let you waste away before dinner. That would be irresponsible.”

“Is this your love language?” you teased, biting the strawberry.

Bucky leaned closer, his scruff brushing your jaw as he kissed your temple. “It’s classified.”

Across from you, Sam let out a loud, exaggerated groan. “Aww, would you look at this domestic mess. Sergeant Barnes out here like he’s in a beachside rom-com.”

Peter snorted through a mouthful of sandwich. “He’s literally feeding her. Feeding. Like—did I miss a Hallmark movie casting call?”

Nat smirked around her drink. “Let them be in love, boys. It’s cute. And if you tease him too hard, he will launch you both back into the ocean.”

Bucky didn’t even blink. “Try me.”

“Not you, Nat,” he added quickly. “You’re safe. They, however?” He pointed at Sam and Peter, expression flat. “Flight risk.”

Lunch had settled into a lazy lull. People were stretched out in the sand, limbs heavy and sun-drunk. Tony had dozed off with his sunglasses tilted sideways. Sam and Clint were arguing about who had the better volleyball serve (still). Nat and Wanda were deeply focused on making an elaborate sand sculpture of the Quinjet. Kate was editing photos and muttering about “perfect Instagram lighting.”

And you? You were still tucked between Bucky’s legs under the umbrella, full and smiling, when he leaned forward, arm brushing yours.

“You got room for dessert?” he murmured, already holding out a mini chocolate cupcake like it was a sacred offering.

“I thought you were the one who said I was gonna waste away earlier,” you said, grinning as you took it.

“Still true. You burn calories faster when you laugh. And you’ve been laughing all day.”

“Because you keep threatening to throw Peter into the ocean.”

“And I will.”

You laughed again—and Bucky looked like he might melt into the towel from how hard he was staring at you.

You bit into the cupcake, humming at how rich and gooey it was. He watched you with a tilted head, that classic Bucky Barnes soft-smile that meant danger, you’re about to be ruined by how tender he can be.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said too innocently. Then, he leaned in and kissed you, slow and warm and tasting like chocolate and heat. His hand curled gently around your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek. When he pulled away, just barely, he smirked.

“Had to taste the sweetness.”

You blinked, breath catching.

“Was that a line?”

He kissed you again. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Then he handed you an ice pop, which you opened while muttering something about him being lucky he’s cute. He wiped a smear of melted red juice from your bottom lip with his thumb—then, yep, kissed you again.

“You’re just using dessert as an excuse,” you teased, melting more than the popsicle.

“I don’t need an excuse,” he whispered, voice low and full of that sleepy-summer love.

And then Peter yelled across the beach, “DO YOU TWO EVER STOP?” before promptly being tackled into the water by Sam and Clint mid-shriek.

You and Bucky just grinned and kept sharing the ice pop.

You were about halfway through the ice pop—cherry, sticky-sweet, cold enough to make your lips tingle—when Bucky leaned in again, eyes on your mouth like you were the most fascinating thing on the beach.

“You’re not even pretending to wait between kisses anymore,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

“Why would I?” he replied, unapologetic. “You taste like summer.”

That would’ve been swoonworthy enough, but then he kissed you with the popsicle still in your hand, one hand on your thigh, the other braced behind you on the towel, drawing you in until you could barely remember how to breathe.

You were too distracted to notice the rest of the girls watching from under Nat’s umbrella like they were at a reality show finale.

Kate raised her sunglasses, eyes wide. “That man is out here giving Nicholas Sparks with a six-pack.”

Wanda took a long sip of her juice box. “I swear, if Bucky picks her up bridal-style again I’m going to cry. I want what they have.”

Nat snorted. “No you don’t. You want to watch what they have and live vicariously while judging them silently.”

“That too,” Wanda said. “I’m multifaceted.”

Then, like he heard the commentary, Bucky glanced up over your head and gave the girls a small smirk—one of those classic Bucky looks that said I know what I’m doing and I’m going to keep doing it.

You looked back and caught them staring.

“Do you mind?” you called, laughing. “This is a private moment!”

Wanda waved you off. “If you want privacy, don’t look that in love in public!”

Kate snapped another photo. “Sorry, this is too cinematic. That lighting? The cherry popsicle kiss?? I'm tagging this beachside thirst trap, soldier edition.”

You dropped your head into Bucky’s shoulder with a groan while he just chuckled, clearly loving the attention.

—

As you tried to recover from the emotional damage of public display affection shaming, Steve strolled by again, glistening wet from the water, towel slung over his shoulder like a Greek god returning from battle.

“Ladies,” he said, nodding as he passed.

“AGAIN?” Kate screeched. “He does this on purpose.”

“He walks like Poseidon and talks like a Victorian suitor,” Wanda muttered, stunned.

Nat, totally unfazed, raised her drink. “We let him.”

Later, you were flat on your towel again, skin sun-warmed and belly full, when Bucky leaned down and kissed you—quick, barely there, except it wasn’t quick. His lips lingered, like he had more to say but didn’t need words for it.

“Mm,” you murmured, fingers brushing the side of his face. “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “You had sunscreen on your lips. Had to help.”

“You’re so full of it.”

“You love it.”

You absolutely did.

Eventually, everyone was sprawled back out on the beach, exhaustion finally taming the chaos. Music still played. Tony napped face-first in a towel. Kate was clicking away, camera in hand, sneakily capturing every goofy grin and sun-kissed candid.

You were gossiping with Nat and Wanda, reliving the game and rating everyone's beach fits (Peter’s tank top got a 4, but only because he’d had ketchup on it since arrival), when the atmosphere shifted.

"Hydration check," a deep voice said.

You turned—and there was Bucky, walking straight toward you, shirt off, water glistening on his torso, looking like a freaking Baywatch promo. You swore slow-mo kicked in. Nat actually dropped her drink. Wanda fanned herself.

“You look dehydrated,” he said, too casual. “Gotta fix that.”

“Bucky—don’t—”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence.

He scooped you up, bridal style, and took off sprinting toward the ocean.

“BUCKY BARNES YOU PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!” you shrieked, kicking and laughing and slapping his shoulder.

“No can do, sweetheart! You’ll thank me later!”

The water was cold. Your scream echoed. He didn’t even hesitate.

The splash could’ve been seen from space.

You emerged sputtering, makeup half gone, swimsuit slightly off-kilter, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. Bucky was grinning like the smug menace he was, brushing wet hair off your face as you glared at him, chest still heaving.

“I hate you,” you said, still smiling.

He leaned in. “No you don’t.”

“…Fine,” you huffed. “But you owe me a back massage later.”

“You got it, doll.”

—

Back at your towel, Bucky shifted to lie back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily hooked around your waist. His fingers traced small circles over the curve of your hip, casual and affectionate.

“You good, doll?” he asked, eyes squinting against the sun.

You laid your head on his chest. “Too good. It’s suspicious. Something chaotic’s about to happen.”

Right on cue—

Peter: "SAM NO—WAIT—"

Splash.

Tony (somewhere from the juice bar, sipping a mojito): “I said don’t try to piggyback the Falcon while he’s flying, Underoos! That’s physics!”

And like clockwork, Clint: “Volleyball rematch in ten! I’m not letting Cap and the archer win again with their golden boy synergy!”

Kate stood, already holding a clipboard. “Wanda and I are reffing. There will be no mercy and no backsies.”

Wanda flicked her fingers, her sunglasses glowing red. “If anyone argues a call, I will float you.”

Bucky groaned. “Great. We’re doing this again.”

You stood, brushing sand off your legs and giving him a teasing smirk. “Come on, Baywatch. Time to lose gracefully.”

He grabbed your hand and tugged you toward him for one last kiss.

“I don’t plan on losing anything,” he whispered. “Especially not you.”

You rolled your eyes, heart pounding. “Cheesy.”

“Sweet,” he corrected. “Like that kiss.”

You were so not ready for how much you loved this man.

The girls had claimed a perfect stretch of sand for sand angels, arms and legs flailing in unison, laughter ringing as they crafted perfect impressions.

The boys tried to join in, but it quickly devolved. Bucky flopped down beside you and made a half-hearted angel, sand sticking to his skin.

Then Clint, always the instigator, launched a sandball that kicked off a full sand fight.

Bucky was a sniper, sneaking up behind you and hitting you with a perfect, cool ball of sand. You shrieked and retaliated, sending a small flurry right back at him.

Nearby, Tony had set up “sand traps” with sensors, and Steve was the first victim—walking straight into one and getting showered in sand. Someone caught it on their phone, and the video quickly went viral.

Everyone was laughing, messy and sunburned, caught in perfect chaos—just like family.

—

You were asleep. Peacefully. On Bucky’s chest. His arms were wrapped around you like sea-worn stone—protective, unmoving, devoted. He’d tilted his head back on the umbrella pole, closed his eyes, and let himself drift with your breath syncing against him.

“Yo, Barnes,” Sam whispered nearby, tossing a towel. It hit Bucky’s arm. He didn’t budge.

“You gonna move?” Steve asked.

“Nope,” Bucky mumbled. “She’s sleeping.”

“She’s drooling on your chest.”

“Still cute.”

15 minutes later:

Peter, armed with a plastic bucket of ocean water, cackled across the beach like a feral gremlin. His target? Sam. His crime? Aim.

He hurled the water.

It missed Sam.

Hit. You. Dead center.

Your gasp was shriek-level loud.

Bucky sat up like a SEAL on alert. You were soaked. Spluttering. Betrayed. Peter’s smile dropped.

“I’m—OH NO—” he started running.

Too late.

Bucky launched from the towel like a vengeful beach deity, grabbed Peter mid-sprint, and slung him over his shoulder like a sandbag.

“NOOO—MR. STARK!!” Peter screamed. “MR. STARK HELP ME—”

But Tony was singing ‘Telephone’ at full volume, doing dramatic Lady Gaga choreography with a juice box microphone. “Sorry I cannot hear you, I’m kinda busy!”

Bucky ran full speed to the shore.

Peter: “I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE IN THE OCEAN—”

Splash.

You were off snapping pics with Kate and Wanda when Nat wandered past Bucky, who was crouched alone in the sand.

She paused, narrowed her eyes.

There it was—your name, scratched in messy letters, right next to a crooked heart. Bucky used the edge of his dog tag to etch it in carefully, like he was carving something permanent into the world.

He wiped his hand over it the second he noticed her.

“Mmhm,” Nat said, arms crossed.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky replied.

“Right. Just some other lovestruck ex-assassin with bad handwriting?”

He didn’t answer.

But when you returned and saw the slightly smudged heart, you smiled.

Didn’t say anything.

Just kissed his cheek.

He blushed like a sunburn.

As the day drew on, you and Bucky stole more moments: laying side by side with his hand resting on your hip, walking along the surf where he picked up a seashell and slipped it into your bag like a secret gift, slow kisses under the umbrella that made Sam dramatically retch from ten feet away.

“Y’all got three feet of PDA before I call HR!” he shouted.

Bucky pulled you closer.

“File the paperwork,” he muttered against your neck.

—

Kate and Sam had appointed themselves the unofficial lifeguards of the beach, perched high on a couple of wooden chairs with whistles around their necks and oversized sunglasses hiding their grins.

“Alright, Beach Patrol, eyes sharp,” Kate called, blowing her whistle once.

Sam smirked, scanning the water like a pro… until he caught sight of Kate tossing sand at him. The whistle was forgotten. Suddenly, they were chasing each other in a sand sprint, laughter echoing across the shore.

Meanwhile, Peter was cautiously wading near the rocks, focusing hard on his footing. Just as he shifted weight, the slick algae caught his foot and he started to fall backward.

Bucky, standing nearby with you in his arms (literally, you’d been climbing onto his back earlier), immediately stepped forward and caught Peter’s arm before he toppled.

“Whoa there, kid,” Bucky said, steadying him.

Peter blinked up at him, wide-eyed. “Thanks, Bucky!”

Bucky struck a mock-heroic pose—one foot propped on a rock, chest puffed, looking like he was ready for a movie poster.

Tony, lounging nearby with a drink, raised an eyebrow and called out, “Save the day and work the runway, huh?”

Clint burst out laughing, and even Peter joined in, teasing, “Look at you, Mr. Hero Pose!”

Bucky just rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips as you leaned into him, whispering, “You’re my hero.”

—

The tide pools were a treasure trove of color and life, shimmering beneath the soft light. You and Bucky wandered among the rocks, carefully stepping to avoid slippery seaweed.

You crouched down, holding out a tiny iridescent shell, “Look at this one.”

Bucky smiled softly, pulling a small shell from a crevice and handing it to you. “Here. For you.”

You tucked it behind your ear, giggling.

He watched you with a shy smile that crept up slowly. Every time you found a “perfect” shell, he seemed to glow a little brighter, like he was proud to be your partner in this simple, beautiful moment.

At one point, you turned around, and Bucky was tracing circles in the sand with his finger, writing your initials surrounded by shells.

You caught his eye, heart fluttering, and whispered, “You’re full of surprises.”

He just shrugged, cheeks pink. “Only for you."

—

By sundown, the team was gathered around a beach bonfire, roasting marshmallows and reminiscing about past missions and today's “survival stories.” Peter tried to make a S’mores tower that collapsed instantly. Tony declared he was building an Iron-Man-themed snack bar for next year. Steve offered to grill next time if someone (Sam) stopped bringing vegan sausages.

As the stars blinked to life overhead, you leaned into Bucky’s side, head on his shoulder.

“I think today might’ve been perfect,” you said quietly.

Bucky looked down at you, expression soft. “You make it perfect.”

And later that night, your phone buzzed:

📸 Kate Bishop Subject: “You’re the Main Character 😌” 67 new photos

There were candids of you laughing, Bucky stealing a kiss on your cheek, you mid-scream as he carried you to the water, a selfie of you both sun-drenched and smile-worn.

And one last photo—just you, standing in the sunset, wind in your hair, golden hour catching your smile like magic.

—You laughing with the girls —Bucky kissing the top of your head —Your intertwined hands silhouetted against the sunset —A perfectly framed snap of you mid-laugh, wind in your hair, eyes sparkling —You and Bucky mid-kiss with a melting popsicle between you —Bucky looking at you like he hung the sun himself —You, wet hair, sunglasses on, absolutely glowing —The moment Steve said “ladies” and every girl blushed in unison —A group shot of everyone mid-volleyball chaos, sand flying, Peter in the air somehow, Sam yelling

—And a single candid of Bucky wiping cherry juice from your lips with his thumb —That moment he fed you the perfect s’more —You and Bucky sharing a hoodie by the bonfire, his arms wrapped around you, your head tucked under his chin. The fire glow behind you looks straight out of a Nicholas Sparks adaptation. —That moment he fed you the perfect s’more

— you mid-laugh, chocolate on your lip, and Bucky smirking as he wiped it with his thumb. Too much. Too soft—You two dancing under the stars, your back against his chest, his cheek resting on your head. Kate labeled it “soft-core emotional damage” in her album. —Bucky looking at you like you're the only person alive during lunch. You didn’t even know he looked at you like that.

At the bottom, a message: “You two are disgustingly cute. Can’t wait for the wedding. 💍❤️”

You stared at the photos, heart full, face warm, and whispered to yourself with a smile—

“Yeah. Definitely perfect.”

—

The sun had tucked itself below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of lavender and peach, and now the only glow came from the crackling bonfire and a string of fairy lights Tony had aggressively zip-tied to some driftwood “for ambience.”

People were sprawled in loose circles around the flames, wrapped in towels, hoodies, or each other. You were tucked between Bucky's legs, your back resting against his chest, his arms loose around your waist. It was warm, but his presence made everything feel warmer.

"Alright, who's got the marshmallows—?" Clint called, already holding one dangerously close to the flames.

"You haven't even put it on the stick, man," Sam deadpanned.

You reached for a stick and started roasting your own, methodically spinning it for that golden crust.

Peter sat way too close to the chocolate stash, stacking two bars and an entire marshmallow mountain between his graham crackers. "This is gonna be a masterpiece."

"That's a war crime," Kate muttered, watching as half the chocolate slid out and melted on his lap.

Tony whipped out a crème brûlée torch like he was unveiling the sword of Excalibur. “Gourmet time, people.”

Sam stared. “You’re not on Top Chef, bro.”

Meanwhile, Clint was already holding up a charred marshmallow that looked like it had survived a house fire. "Perfect."

"You're banned from fire," Nat said, snatching the stick from him and handing it to Wanda.

You, focused and patient, pulled your marshmallow out of the flame—perfectly golden, gooey inside. You turned, triumphant, and Bucky was already holding up a graham cracker in one hand, chocolate waiting.

“C’mon,” he murmured, blue eyes catching the firelight, a smug little smile tugging at his lips. “Let me help.”

You sandwiched the marshmallow carefully, fingers brushing, and just as you were about to bite, Bucky tilted the s’more up and fed it to you himself, slow, deliberate. Chocolate smeared slightly at the corner of your mouth.

Before you could even reach for a napkin, he leaned in and licked it clean—quick and smug, soft and smugger.

The world blurred around you—Kate shrieking about her sandal getting caught in the log pile, Peter yelling “FIRE SAFETY” at Tony, Sam swearing Clint set his towel on fire—and still, it was just you and Bucky, wrapped in this flickering, perfect moment.

—

Wanda clapped her hands once. “Alright. Confessions circle. You know the rules. Be messy or be boring.”

Peter immediately launched into the story about webbing himself to a lamppost during patrol and getting stuck there for two hours until MJ found him with a churro and pity.

Everyone howled.

Clint’s involved a failed disguise involving a raccoon and a trench coat, which somehow ended with him being tackled by mall security. "The raccoon was wearing sunglasses," he defended. “I committed.”

Then, it was Bucky’s turn.

He looked into the fire for a second, then, quietly: “Used to sneak out of barracks during training. Brooklyn summer nights. I’d take my girl—whoever I was with at the time—down to the docks and teach her how to dance. Didn’t always have music. Just… steps and stars.”

You didn’t say a word. You were too busy falling in love with him again, with every syllable, every ghost of a memory. He glanced at you halfway through, and even though he was speaking to everyone, the rest of the story felt like it was for you.

Then it was your turn.

You shifted, suddenly bashful. “Okay—so… this was before Bucky and I were together. I was on this mission, right? Supposed to intercept a target in this corporate tower. But while I was waiting, one of the employees stumbled on me. Poor guy was terrified, but I didn’t want to kill him—he wasn’t the target.”

Everyone leaned in.

“So I tied him up—nicely, okay?—and just kinda… started ranting about Bucky. Like full-on ‘what if I ruin the friendship’ and ‘what if he doesn’t mean it when he brushes my hand and then holds it for too long?’ levels of meltdown. I asked the poor guy for advice. While tied up.”

There was dead silence.

You added, sheepish: “We talked for like an hour. Turns out he hated his boss, who was the target, so I let him go. We’re still mutuals on Letterboxd.”

Peter nearly choked on a marshmallow. “GIRL WHAT—”

Kate and Wanda howled.

Nat leaned forward, cackling. “Wait. That’s real?”

Bucky was quiet for a beat, then laughed—low and soft and a little smug. “Should’ve known you were already obsessed.”

You elbowed him, but leaned into him seconds later, and he wrapped his arms tighter around you like you were made of something precious. Sacred.

The night deepened, wind picking up off the waves. You shivered once, and before the second could hit, Bucky was already peeling off his hoodie.

“Here,” he murmured, slipping it over your shoulders. “Can’t have you freezing.”

You smiled as you tucked yourself into the hoodie—it smelled like him, and the sleeves nearly swallowed your hands.

Then, without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you again from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Just in case the hoodie’s not enough.”

You finished your wild story, face flushed, eyes wide as the group stared at you like you had just announced you were actually a raccoon in disguise. A very emotional raccoon.

There was a solid five seconds of stunned silence, broken only by the sound of Wanda sucking in a breath through her teeth and whispering, “Oh that’s insane.”

“I—okay. I was vulnerable!” you protested. “And he gave good advice! He said I should be brave!”

Bucky was silently shaking with laughter behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. “So while on a classified mission, you trauma-dumped on a civilian you restrained about me?”

“I tied him up nicely!”

“Oh, well that makes it better,” Sam deadpanned.

Kate leaned forward, clutching her drink. “Wait, what did he say exactly?”

“Yeah,” Tony chimed in, smirking with the gleam of a man who would make this his personality for the rest of the week. “Let’s get a quote or two from your accidental therapist hostage. For posterity.”

You groaned. “He said… I was obviously in love and trying to act chill. He said I was projecting anxiety as aggression, and I told him to shut up but, like, politely.”

“I’M GONNA CRY,” Peter wheezed, nearly choking on his soda.

Nat pointed at you, tears in her eyes from laughing. “You threatened a man and then emotionally collapsed about your crush.”

“He said Bucky probably knew, and I said no he didn’t, and then I spiraled about the way Bucky always opened doors for me and kept touching the small of my back, and—”

“Wait wait wait,” Tony cut in, holding up a hand like he was moderating a courtroom. “THE SMALL OF THE BACK?! How dare you gloss over that detail! That’s prime romance real estate!”

“I was GOING THROUGH IT, OKAY?!”

Bucky, calm and smug and cozy around you, was grinning now. He kissed your temple lightly. “Wish I knew about this sooner. Would’ve made a move that day.”

You turned and stared at him. “WHAT?”

He shrugged, totally unbothered. “Told Steve about my crush on you a week before that mission. Said I was gonna wait till after to tell you, since you were stressed.”

“YOU WHAT.”

Steve raised his hands. “In my defense, I did say he should just tell you.”

Wanda flopped sideways into Kate, kicking her feet. “Oh my god this is better than any romcom. Someone write this down.”

“You let me sob over you to a tied-up man when you were already in love with me?!”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. You’re both emotionally unhinged. I love it. I’m giving a toast.”

He raised his drink. “To our very own tragic espionage romance and the hostage who became a couples therapist.”

Peter raised his can. “To Jared from HR or whoever that guy was.”

“His name was Lucas! And he did not ask for this!”

“I want him at your wedding,” Nat said, utterly serious.

Bucky was laughing into your shoulder now, holding you tighter. “Please tell me you still have his number.”

You nodded, face in your hands.

Tony immediately pulled out his phone. “We’re tracking him down. I want the full transcripts.”

It’s late into the bonfire now. You’re still wrapped in Bucky’s hoodie, half in his lap, surrounded by friends who are NOT letting your story go. The marshmallows have stopped burning. Peter is on his fourth s’more. Everyone is in that late-night just unhinged enough to do something dumb mood.

And then Tony, still holding a drink and scrolling through your phone, finds it.

Tony: “Yo. [Name]. Is this the guy? Lucas: Hotdog Stand Guy from Mission??” You blink. “Wait you actually still had him saved?”

You (defensive): “I mean… he was cool!”

Kate: “You’re telling me you saved the number of your emotional hostage pen pal and just—never told us?”

Peter: “Please call him. Please. I need this.”

You hesitate. The group is chanting now. Bucky's arm is snug around your waist, his mouth at your ear.

Bucky (low, teasing): “C’mon, doll. Let’s meet your relationship coach.”

You sigh. Grab the phone. Put it on speaker.

It rings once. Twice. Then—

Lucas (answering, immediately): “Please tell me you didnt butt dial me while youre making out”

You let out a gasp yelling saying it was once, your face flustered bucky let out a low chuckle.

Lucas (with a tone of sass):

"Girl no. Twice."

Lucas (unbothered): “ANYWAYS I BEEN SAYING—Y’ALL HAD CHEMISTRY! WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?! Not me. I KNEW IT.”

You (mortified): “Hi Lucas.”

Lucas: “Ayo is he there? Is Winter Soldier there? Put him on. I GOT WORDS.”

You hold the phone up toward Bucky, who takes it with a bemused expression.

Bucky: “Hey.”

Lucas (serious now): “I’m proud of you, my man. You were giving soft, confused golden retriever energy and you turned that into commitment. Respect.”

Bucky (grinning): “I—thank you?”

Lucas: “You feeding her s’mores? You braiding her hair like she used to dream about in front of me while I was zip-tied?”

Bucky: “…yes?”

Lucas (clapping): “YES SIRRR. That’s growth. That’s romance. I better be best man.”

Tony (yelling): “Lucas, you’re invited to the compound anytime.”

Lucas: “Bet. I’m free Tuesday.”

Wanda: “Lucas. What was it like listening to [Name] spiral?”

Lucas: “Spiritual. I felt like I was watching a Netflix docuseries in real time. She made ME believe in love again.”

You are screaming into your hands now as everyone laughs around you, tears in their eyes.

Lucas (softly now): “I’m proud of you, [Name]. Look at you. Got the super-soldier, got the hoodie, got a whole group of chaotic-ass friends. Dream life.”

You (giggling): “Thanks, Lucas.”

Lucas (loud again): “ALRIGHT Y’ALL. I’M OUT. BE SAFE. WRAP IT BEFORE YOU ZAP IT.”

Call ends.

Dead silence.

Then:

Tony: “I’m putting that man on payroll.”

—

The party seemed to only be getting started, from endless karaoke and dance battles everyone was having the time of their lives. The music shifts to Cool for the Summer — that catchy, electric beat filling the space. Everyone’s hyped up after the dance battles, and suddenly, Peter pipes up, “Hey, you two gotta do it. The iconic Fresh scene. You know, the one with Steve and Noa?”

You and Bucky exchange a quick glance and a grin — that’s your secret move, a little throwback to a dance only the two of you know inside and out.

Bucky smirks, “Guess it’s showtime.”

Peter’s watching from the side, totally shocked. “Wait — you guys watched Fresh? Like, seriously?”

You grin and nod as the first smooth step hits.

Bucky, in full Steve mode, says softly, “Let’s dance.”

You reply, matching the exact tone, “Let’s dance.”

Peter almost falls over laughing but claps loudly, totally impressed.

The two of you spin, sliding into the classic step-touch with finger snaps — every move crisp and synced like a perfect mirror.

At the part where Noa shimmies and does that hip roll, you toss your hair and Bucky follows suit with his own smooth roll, both of you cracking into laughter but not breaking the rhythm.

Peter’s eyes widen, “Okay, I’m officially obsessed. You two have practice for this?”

You shake your head with a laugh, “Nah, just a little binge one night. We’ve been saving it.”

Tony shouts, “Now THAT’S how you do it! Kate, come on, we gotta step it up!”

Kate screams, “Bring it, Barnes!” as she drags Tony into the next round, both of them laughing and trying to keep up.

Peter’s grinning ear to ear, “You guys just turned the whole beach into a dance floor — I’m never gonna top that.”

You lean into Bucky, heart racing from the adrenaline and the way everyone’s loving your secret little moment.

Bucky smiles low, whispering, “Told you — some things never go out of style.”

Peter’s clapping, “Yo, this is the best beach party ever!”

You lean into Bucky, feeling that electric buzz of the crowd, the warmth of his hand steady on your waist, the music pulsing like a heartbeat.

And just like that, the whole beach is a dance floor, alive with laughter, music, and the kind of moments that turn into memories.

Tony puffs out his chest, hands on hips, glancing at Kate with mock confidence. “Alright, kiddo, time to school these two on some real moves.”

Kate smirks, bouncing on her heels. “Oh yeah? You sure you’re ready for this? Last time you danced, you pulled a muscle… or was that your dignity?”

Tony waves her off dramatically. “Please. I’ve been rehearsing in front of the mirror. I’ve got moves so smooth, they make silk jealous.”

They start their attempt — Tony tries the slick sideways slide but immediately trips over his own feet, sprawling onto the sand.

Kate bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach. “Smooth like silk? More like a silk sheet caught in a windstorm!”

Tony grins from the ground, not missing a beat. “Hey, it’s a modern interpretation. Very avant-garde.”

Kate shakes her head, trying not to laugh as she attempts the finger snap but accidentally flicks sand into Tony’s face.

Tony sputters, wiping his eyes. “Okay, okay — you try, Miss Perfect.”

Kate hits the beat, snapping and sliding, but halfway through her hip roll she stumbles and ends up nearly face-planting.

Tony chuckles, offering her a hand. “Told you — we’re not quite Steve and Noa, but hey, at least we’re having fun, right?”

Kate takes his hand, laughing. “Yeah, fun with a side of embarrassment. Maybe we should just stick to cheering from the sidelines.”

Tony winks. “Speak for yourself — next karaoke round, I’m claiming the mic!”

Kate groans, “Oh no… please, no.”

suddenly the whole group is hyped, eager to recreate the iconic dance you and Bucky just performed flawlessly.

Tony cracks his knuckles, ready to lead the charge. “Alright team, time to show off those moves!”

Peter grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Bet none of you can match what [Name] and Bucky just pulled.”

Sam and Clint exchange glances, smirking as they step forward, trying the finger snaps and hip rolls but ending up laughing as their moves turn into an awkward shuffle.

Kate twirls, nearly losing her balance but catching herself with a dramatic flourish. “Okay, okay, who taught you two that smooth stuff?”

Everyone turns to you and Bucky — who’ve retreated from the center, just swaying quietly together. His back presses gently against yours, his head resting softly atop yours, arms wrapped loosely but protectively around your waist.

Peter nudges Tony, whispering, “Man, they don’t even need to dance, just look at them.”

Tony watches you both, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, that’s the real show right there.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Silent power move.”

You lean into Bucky, feeling the steady beat of his heartbeat matching the music. No flashy steps, no wild moves — just the warmth of being exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And somehow, that’s the most magnetic dance of all.

As the beat of Cool for the Summer fades into an equally hyper energetic song —something along the lines of Cake By The Ocean if someone got cheeky with the playlist — the party shifts into that perfect golden-hour haze, even though the fire's still crackling and the stars are high overhead.

Sam is dramatically dancing with a stick like it’s his true soulmate, muttering, “She never talks back. Perfect woman.”

Tony’s in the middle of teaching Clint and Wanda some kind of absurd made-up waltz-slash-robot hybrid, and they’re all laughing so hard they nearly fall over. “Tell me this isn’t art!” Tony declares, twirling Kate once and accidentally tripping over a log.

“Peter,” Kate slurs playfully shes drunk off the caprisuns, pointing a chip at him, “you gotta admit we nailed that duet. Like, Grammy-winning, no—EGOT-worthy.” Peter, who’s only tipsy on adrenaline and soda, holds up an empty marshmallow stick like a mic. “I’d like to thank the Academy… and Katy Perry… and my vocal cords.”

Meanwhile, you and Bucky have drifted just a little farther from the circle, swaying softly under the blanket of stars. You're tipsy — that light, bubbly kind that makes everything feel warmer, softer, floatier. His arms wrap around you, steady and grounding. Your head rests back against his chest as his chin hooks gently over your shoulder, breathing calm and quiet against your temple.

The music is barely there now. Just ambient hums, flickering flame, distant laughter. Your fingers curl lazily into his. “Did you ever dance like this in the streets of Brooklyn?” you ask, voice soft and dreamy, like you’re afraid the question might float away with the smoke.

You feel the subtle rumble of his laugh against your back. “I did,” he says, after a beat. “Plenty of times.”

You glance up toward him. “Was it like this?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then leans closer, pressing his cheek against yours. “No,” he murmurs. “This… is so much better.”

You smile, heart fluttering, grounding yourself against the quiet rhythm of him. He brushes a kiss against your temple. “Brooklyn didn’t have you.”

And maybe no one hears it but you — and maybe that makes it all the more perfect.

Behind you, Sam’s yelling, “Ayo! Someone stop Steve from trying to two-step with the cooler!” Peter’s giving Tony a piggyback ride in a full karaoke encore. Kate is holding Wanda’s face and dramatically declaring her love for fries.

And you? You’re still dancing. Still swaying with Bucky, just you and him and the stars.Beach Day: 10/10. Would absolutely be chaos again.

(You've got mail!) THIS was so insanely stupid but it seemed like the perfect kind of beach day/episode..i had a feeling they would not be normal because what is normal anyways! BUT YESS summa is here and its fast approaching! better see all yall out having fun at pools beaches lakesides ETC ETC. HOT GIRL SUMMA WHERE WE LISTEN TO 2016 MUSIC WATCH MCU AND WE OUTSIDEEE!!!

Tag List @bbsbrina @herejustforbuckybarnes

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lovelake · 22 days ago

Text

In which you find out who the person leaving you continuous love letters is and return the gesture

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | 1.7k wc, fluff, reader is friendly, awkwardness, nervousness, hyugo’s very involved, deryl and geo (briefly, just in the background), tiny implication of masturbation if you squint

note: i felt a little iffy writing about lockers because they’re uni students but that’s how it is in the game so (ᵕ—ᴗ—) this was supposed to be out while most people were still in college (because i think people in the semester system are already out for break) but i didn’t make it in time </3 as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated

masterlist read on ao3

Lately, your existence has been put on the same pedestal as that of everything beautiful in the world.

You’ve been getting love letter after love letter ever since Valentine’s Day. At first, you thought it was some sort of misunderstanding—they got the wrong locker. It wasn’t until certain details in them were specific to you that you finally got the message across. This secret admirer really was yours.

You picked up on quirks in the handwriting after rereading them so many times. Separated letters frequently molded into random strings of cursive. The horizontal lines on the t’s are low, they look like upside down crosses.

If the writing itself wasn’t sweet enough, there were also doodles left on the margins and corners. Flowers, hearts, and oddly enough, pumpkins.

Life was more fun with romantic secrecy in the air.

Sometimes it was embarrassing, though. You’d trip, drop a paper, or miss a shot of a wrapper to a trash can—and your mind would immediately go to, did they see that?

The question hovered over your head for months like a cloud. Who are they?

—

“Don’t eat so close to me,” Sol mumbled to Hyugo, angling himself away as he continued writing. He didn’t want the wind to blow any crumbs onto his paper.

“Another letter? You’re so romantic, Sunny! It almost makes me lose my appetite.”

Yes and no. It was a letter for you, but essentially, it was just a draft for now.

“Do you think it’s working?” Sol asked with a sigh, vulnerability in his question.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Have you seen their reaction to finding one in their locker?”

“A couple times.”

“And?”

“They were smiling.” Sol’s own answer prompted a faint one to form on his face.

Love and commitment wove through each and every word until the end result was practically a written serenade for you, and only you.

—

Whether by sheer luck or fate, you didn’t have to do any snooping to find who your secret admirer is. The answer came to you.

“Pass your homework towards the front of the class.”

Stuck in the very first row, you patiently waited until you were tapped on the shoulder and given a stack of completed homework.

As you were making the stack look presentable, you noticed a familiar looking ‘t’ on the title of the last paper. No way. Was the person sending love letters in this class? They had to be sitting at the very back if so.

Knowing their name wouldn’t help, you didn’t know anybody in this class because group activities weren’t required.

Acting nonchalant, you stretched your back from side to side and took the opportunity to look behind you. But you couldn’t really see because of all the people in your way.

Next idea. You “accidentally” dropped your pencil and leaned over in your chair to catch a glimpse.

Their head rested snugly against their forearm, you couldn’t see their face. Black and dark green long sleeves, that’s all you were getting. Okay, you could wait until class ended for the mystery to be revealed.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The clock mocked your excitement for approximately fifty-five torturous minutes.

Class ended, students scrambled.

After quickly gathering your things into your arms, you (not very discreetly) turned around. There was no reason to, there were two doors and you usually went out the front one since it was close to you.

But only in this way were you able to fully look at the person who’s been making even the shittiest of weeks feel better.

Tall, pierced ears and lips, eyelashes that look long even from a distance…

Your secret admirer is handsome in a pretty sort of way. Even so, he looks like someone who would give his crush a necklace with his blood in it rather than lovey-dovey letters.

You must’ve been awe-struck for too long, time slowed.

As soon as he caught on to your staring (gawking), he immediately walked out of the room, leaving his friend talking to no one. “…and then–huh? Sunny? Sunny! How rude…”

“No fair. You have long legs, you walk faster than me.” Hyugo eventually caught up to Sol. Their lockers were next to one another’s.

Sol’s body felt hot. You had looked at him with intent for the first time ever, not just an accidental glance or something. He tried to compose himself as he opened his locker to put one of his books away.

Were you finally noticing him? He had so much love to offer, all you had to do was embrace the soul that was so willing to give it to you.

“…I have to use the restroom.” He most certainly does not, at least not in the way it’s intended to be used.

In the midst of being over the moon, he failed to see that you were nearby.

You know where his locker is.

Now there’s only two things left to do.

—

i. WRITE HIM A LETTER

Now back at home, you felt insecure. Just a bit. All his letters were beautiful: nice expensive looking paper, sentences all in pen (somehow he never made a single mistake, there were never any words scribbled out), and lived in envelopes that had pretty dark red wax seals prior to you opening them.

Well. You didn’t have any envelopes. Your paper was college ruled with three holes on the left. Your pen was gel-point and smeared when you wrote too fast. And, you didn’t have any white-out in case you made a mistake.

“This is silly.” You tell yourself, shaking away your doubts and picking the pen back up.

You didn’t harbor the same feelings that he did to you, how could you, when you barely came to know of his existence? Either way, his letters always left you feeling giddy. And who knows, maybe a potential future relationship awaited you.

So, you got to writing.

ii. DELIVER IT TO HIS LOCKER (GONE WRONG)

Time passed by ever so slowly the next day, it always did when you had something to look forward to. Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach, concentrating in class was hard, especially the one you shared with him.

You waited until the end of school, the letter already in your hand as you (hesitantly) made your way there. If anything, it looked like you were holding a folded graded assignment with a big giant F on it, nobody would suspect it.

“Hey, maybe that’s another letter for you Geo! Your locker’s full again isn’t it? Have you even gone through them?”

“Be quiet.”

They couldn’t be talking about you. They just couldn’t.

Thankfully, those guys turned a corner. It would’ve been awkward if you all kept walking the same way. And who’s Geo, anyway? Is he really that popular?

You leaned against the wall, your other hand preoccupied by your phone as you waited for the after school crowd to die out. Checking the time, you had a tutoring session upstairs in ten minutes.

Eventually, the only footsteps you could hear were distant. Putting your phone away, you swallowed your nerves and approached his locker.

Well, here goes nothing.

You start slipping it in.

Somehow, your body flinches before your hearing processes anything.

“Woah! Is that a letter for Sunny?”

Shit.

Wide-eyed, you looked over. The letter was still in your hands, only the tip of it was rammed into the locker ventilation hole.

Day one of trying to mimic your secret admirer and you already failed.

Just your luck, his best friend was here too. Even so, you could only focus on him. His expression matched yours, but his was from being incredibly flustered rather than embarrassment from being caught.

You didn’t know what to say, only one word slipped from your lips.

“…Hi.”

Hi.

Hi?

Hi?!

“Hi!” Hyugo greeted you back with a grin and wave, catching your attention for a split second. Like the good best friend he was, he nudged Sol your way.

Looks like he was too stunned to talk, you’d have to break the ice more. All the words he held right now, you were sure you’d already read them all.

You brought the letter back down.

“I may have…figured out that you were the person sending me letters. Unless I’m wrong! And in that case I can leave and…”

“How’d you figure out it was me?”

Surprisingly, his voice is soft.

“Because of your t’s.”

“…My t’s?”

“Yeah. You write them differently. Not differently in a bad way! Just…I’ve never really seen anyone write them the way you do.”

One of his brows raised. You thought you offended him until he smiled. That alone put you at ease.

“This is for you,” you handed the letter to him. His fingertips briefly kissed your skin.

The paper didn’t so much as crinkle in his hold, he was being gentle. You were grateful he wasn’t bold enough to start reading it on the spot, you would die.

He opened his locker with his free hand and fetched a crumpled-looking paper. He stammered a bit over his words as he held it out to you. “It’s…It’s not done yet.”

It was a draft full of scribbles and crossed out words. So, he did make mistakes. Just that he worked on a draft before putting everything onto the fancier paper. Somehow, that just made his gestures all the sweeter.

“I think this one will be my favorite,” you tell him, no sarcasm present.

You were kind and welcoming, exactly what he needed in a world such as this.

"I love-" Sol's overly strong confession was interrupted by Hyugo elbowing him.

Finding a clock on the wall, you curse under your breath. “I have to go catch a tutoring session but it was nice finally meeting you. What’s your name?”

“You can just call me Sol.”

“See you tomorrow, Sol!”

You repeated his name under your breath over and over to commit it to memory as you walked away. “Sol, Sol, Sol…”

He was stuck in place, never taking his gaze off you until you turned the corner. Your voice echoed in his head, a catchy melody he would never tire of.

See you tomorrow, you said. Like you would be talking to him from now on. Like you wouldn’t be put off by him casually approaching you. Like you were friends now.

Hyugo lightly pinched Sol’s arm, he got no response.

Sol looked down at the letter, he was holding something sacred—you put thought into it, something in your possession (your pen) had touched it, your fingerprints were all over it. Does this count as indirect hand-holding?

He needed to read it, and he would, once in private.

“Let me see, let me see!”

“Touch it and I’ll kill you.”

“…Jeez, and then who’ll clean up all your messes?”

#solivan brugmansia x reader #solivan brugmansia x you #solivan brugmansia #the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back #tkatb

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circeyoru · 2 months ago

Text

Shadow and Void _ Part 9

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Arc 1: Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 Arc 2: Part 4 ― Part 5 Arc 3: Part 6 ― Part 7 Arc 4: Part 8 ― Part 9 (here) ― Part 10 ― Part 11

“First, we go inwards. Then working our way out and back to the rides closer the entrance or exit. The best rides are inside after all. It’s also the place we exert our energy.” You spoke in a tutor guide manner as you walked with purpose.

How long has it been since you last visited an amusement park? A few decades? Probably more. You remember spending your time more on acquiring your perfect vessel than lazing around in the human realm than anything else. After all, the world was going to end and you didn’t care for anything else. Well, food for one, mostly because your vessel could taste food. That was the only passion you could enjoy.

You recalled going to an amusement park as an observant because your vessel’s former owner wanted to go there and have fun. So you wanted to try too. This fun that was your temptation.

Unknowingly, you pulled along Jinwoo by his hand. Either you were too caught up in your quest or you didn’t care, but your hand was tightly clasped in Jinwoo’s. The man merely followed you to whichever ride you pointed and suggested getting on, which was everything. He didn’t pay attention to what you said exactly, but he knew you were enjoying yourself and he was content with that.

With Jinwoo’s status as an S-Rank Hunter, he gained unspoken and unstated benefits. He was welcomed to the front of the line, along with his companion which was you, there was hardly any need to wait for your turn. Resulting in you pouting since you had based your activities about the waiting too. After the first and second time it happened, Jinwoo declined the favouritism. He, too, wanted to spend more time with you. Since it’s not like he could chat with you while you were screaming your head off during the exhilarating ride.

He thought there wouldn’t be any appeal to you since you were a Monarch and he was a Hunter. He thought it was going to be the norm. His face stoic and deadpan when he rode the first ride, said to be the most dangerous and crazy one, when he thought it was boring, he turned to you expecting to see a mirror reaction of his.

Yet his eyes widened when your eyes were practically sparkling with joy and thrill. Your hands were up in the air and you’d giggle when going downhill. You’d even grip onto the safety restraints when a tight turn came.

After the ride came to a stop and riders were ushered out, he got up and walked off, he noticed a couple, the boyfriend was steadying his girlfriend after the ride. He thought this was his chance too, but when he looked back to you, you had bounced from your seat to the platform, fixing your appearance before joining him without any issues.

Then it was the same with the other rides.

Though what changed was not enjoying the ride itself but the expressions and little quirks you were making on the rides. You’d want to try riding in the front, then the back, and the middle to compare the experience. You settled for the front no matter what since you nearly got hit in the face by someone’s wig while at the back.

Now that got Jinwoo laughing.

And it also earned him a kick from you after the ride. Not that it hurt, but it was amusing all the same.

“Just one hit and you get a big prize!”

“Three shots, one giant soft toy!”

“Get your limited edition plushy if you can win this game!”

You stared down from the balcony area as you munched on your meal. It was a miniature break from all the ride you’ve taken. Normally you wouldn’t have eaten at the park restaurants, according to the online reviews, cause of the price and poor quality, but Jinwoo insisted on going in for some rest instead of standing around with a burger in one hand and drink in the other.

Plus… Jinwoo was offering to pay.

“We should try some games too.” You hummed and looked away from the bustling area below.

“Aren’t those games rigged so you’d lose money?” Jinwoo raised at brow at you with an intrigued look.

You smirked and pointed at him with the fork in your hand, “Aren’t you too skilled to lose to games like those? Mr. S-Rank Hunter.”

Jinwoo leaned forward with a growing smirk, “Take your pick, I’ll win you all the prizes you want.”

“Don’t you lose a single one.”

Ding!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Uh… You’ve won the grand prize!!”

Jinwoo grinned at you while throwing back the ball in his hand into the basket. You chuckled and pointed at the prize you wanted hanging above. The game master unhooked it and gave it to you, it was a giant black cat with a pink bow and a frown.

“Isn’t this enough prizes?” Jinwoo glanced over to his Shadows that all held the other prizes he won for you from the previous game stalls. He watched you hug that cat tightly with a smile that was never directed at him, but he’ll take what he could get. For now.

You glanced back at him, “You said you’ll win all the prizes I want. Don’t tell me you’re going back on it.”

“You can’t still be doubting my abilities…”

“I’m not and this is actually the last one I wanted.” You hummed and walked off.

“Why did you want this one in particular?”

You turned your head and smiled at him, “Cause this one is just like you, grumpy but cute at times.” Then you turned your heel and continued onwards, not caring if Jinwoo was following you or not, “Come on! The Ferris wheel’s next. Now… Where’s that line that infamously long…?”

Jinwoo’s logic and morals snapped. He slammed a stack of cash on the counter, “I’ll take another basket.”

“O- Okay sir!” The staff placed another basket of balls in front of Jinwoo. “Uh, as you know. Two balloons for one grand prize.”

“Is all that all the cat prizes you have?” Jinwoo picked up the ball and readied his throw.

“Yes, sir! Since it’s limited to only today and not many people got to win it, you’re actually the first!”

Jinwoo’s eyes glowed purple as he eyed his targets. “There’s still 9 left…”

“Yes?” A ball had zoomed past the stall manager’s cheek, creating a slight breeze.

Bang…

The staff flinched to reality as Jinwoo’s hand reached for the other balls in the basket. Swifting ducking from the incoming fire.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Ah…. No way…” The stall manager got up from hiding and stared at all the destroyed balloons. Even tripping on air. “That’s…”

“All those prizes are mine, so I can do with it as I fit…” Jinwoo glared up at the poor innocent cats hanging above. He summoned his daggers and leapt into the air, destroying all the cats in sight. “Good business.”

The staff watched as Jinwoo joined up with you in shock and mild fear. Hunters are no joke…

You turned around to see Jinwoo leisurely walking over to you with his hands in his coat pockets. You eyed him suspiciously and questioned, “Where have you been?”

“Nature called?” Jinwoo smiled innocently.

“Why did it sound like a question?”

“It didn’t. You’re imagining things.”

“Hmm…” Naturally, you didn’t take his word. “Well, whatever,” You turned your attention away as the Ferris wheel carriage neared the two of you. “It’s almost our turn now.”

Note: Yay!! My favourite part's coming up!! Lore~!! You'll get to know more about the Monarch of Void in the next one, then it's fluff again!! Enjoy~~ (I wonder if people are waiting for the last part of this arc to be out then read)

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST *(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @stoats-a-dork @daiyanomochi @snowy-violet @sleepyamaya @thetruepair @aixaingela @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah @rai-xxx @lilliana-14 @larettajudith @r3va-dwme @my-arietta @sikyulioness @sabrina-senpai @bubera974 @weaponxgames @m00n-estelle @beyond-the-stars-fairy @angelkazusstuff @soft-dots @dxprived4-starboys @shineinouzen15 @leviackerman2030 @dxprived4-starboys @darling-dearesttt

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #yandere sung Jin woo #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere jinwoo #Yandere sung jinwoo x reader #yandere sung jin woo x reader #Shadow and Void

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twstfanblog · 2 months ago

Note

I am scrambling for a topic, hn...

Maybe Yuu talks about how they went about naming the planets in her world to the Ignihyde boys?

YuuTalks! Explaining the Planet Names

A/N: Some quick edits I didn't realize I didn't do. Sorry!

"What a lovely turnout."

Idia sat curled up in a section of the bench seating, Ortho sitting beside him in the otherwise empty classroom.

Giggling, Ortho tilted his head as he read over the chalkboard, "Most of our friends have made the connection that if one of your events isn't mandatory, it's in their best interest to not attend. But, your world's space exploration far exceeds our own. So, I wish to hear more about the advancements from your home!"

"I'm just here to make sure you two don't start making blueprints for weapons again..." Idia mumbled, glaring over the tablet he clutched to his face.

"Fuck you. Anyway, welcome to YuuTalks! A fun little thing I've decided to do to explain topics from my world to you poor little rat boys."

Yuu clicks a button on the master remote, sending the room into darkness and illuminating the chalkboard from the overhead projector. Smiling, Yuu gestured to the title, "YuuTalks! How We Named the Planets!"

Ortho's eyes widened, already recording the presentation and leaning forward in rapt attention, "You have multiple planets!?"

"Well...We don't live on multiple planets. But we've been aware of them since ancient civilizations took notice of the stars. Seeing how we can see most of them with the naked eye..." Yuu erased the board, drawing several symbols in chalk.

Idia quirked a brow, able to recognize a few symbols. Two were gender emblems, but another two were logos he had seen in his own family registry.

Yuu made a final symbol in the beginning of the line, a circle with a single dot in the center, "I'm gonna make this a game-"

"Oh no-"

"Shut up, this'll be fun. The planet names that I was taught were actually based on Greco-Roman astrology. Which makes the fact that only you guys showed up so fucking funny to me."

"Greco-Roman...Ah! Those are your world's equivalents of the Valley of Woe and the Union of Mourning, Prefect Yuu?"

"Yep! The Romans basically ate Greek culture and passed it off as their own once Greece fell. But then they renamed a bunch of stuff to piss me off."

Idia frowned, though more interested than before, "I really doubt that's why they did it-"

"Shut up. It totally was. BUT! Since you guys are the smartest boys on campus about who these planets were named after. I'm going to describe the planet and you will guess who its namesake is."

Ortho clapped his hands, internally opening a search window while Idia himself poised his hands over his tablet.

He smirks, throwing Yuu a subtle challenging stare, "Bring it."

Yuu turns, pointing to the first symbol in the lineup, "First up, a freebie. This is the symbol for the Sun. It is the star at the center of our solar system, the gravitational pull dragging us and our planetary brethren behind it as we all go hurtling in space together. Now-...Yes, Ortho?"

Ortho turned the flashing lights of his arm off, putting it back down to the desk, "Was the Sun not named in the same fashion as the other planets?"

"It was. This is a freebie, Ortho. Trust me the pattern is quick to pick up and then I will fuck you over later. But, 'Sun' is from an old English — Queenian — word 'sunne' which itself is from a Proto-Germanic — Fuck, um...Central Shaftian — word 'Sunnōn'. But the most common name was Sol, after the Roman sun god."

Idia was actually taking notes, brow pinching at the information, "Wait...I'm not gonna try to say her name, but you said it was a goddess of the sun* when you told me about the gods you pay respect to."

Ortho tilts his head, "I thought it was the Star Lord, Lord of the Solar Palace?"

"The wha-"

"Ok. Quick crash course. My planet has many religions. Which, if I'm remembering what Lilia and Trein have told me, doesn't really happen here. You guys have more like...'Icons of Concepts' compared to whole ways of life based around group beliefs. But MOVING ON-"

"So wait. You said the Roman god. But these names are based on Greco-Roman? Where's the Greek? Are they taking turns?"

Ortho raised his hand again, lights flaring up to be noticed more easily in the dark, "What was the Greek name for Sol, Prefect Yuu?"

"Thank you for raising your hand, Ortho. The Greek equivalent to Sol was Helios, persona of the sun-"

"OOOOOOOOOOOO!" Idia’s eyes widened, an almost giddy vibe taking over as he tapped his tablet, "Helios was an Elden mage who pioneered fire magics."

Ortho nodded his head, "He created a large number of fire spell basics that we still use today! He died via immolation, so the fact your world saw him as a persona of the sun itself is fascinating!"

"Yeah, that's a word for it. Ok, let's start round one. The first planet in the solar lineup is currently the smallest planet. It's also the closest to the Sun, meaning it makes a full trip in only 88 days compared to my world's 365-ish days."

"Aaaa. So quick..." Ortho and Idia both took notes before whispering as to who they believed the planet to be named after. Idia had proposed the symbols would be helpful, seeing how Helios in his magical studies was the first to spell weave using archaic magic circles.

"Our worlds' ancient histories are weirdly closely linked. I think symbols were some of the things that were crossed over, like the stories about the Great Seven and such..."

"True...Then..." Ortho raised his hand again, thankfully without the blinking lights and called out when Yuu nodded, "Was this planet named for Hermes?"

"Correct! Romanized to Mercury, the planet is named after the God of travelers and communication."

Ortho giggled, "Because it's so fast!"

"Next planet." Yuu tapped the female symbol, "Second from the sun, yet the hottest planet in our system. It's covered in clouds of sulfuric acid and is literally the landscape of actual hell on the surface. But from the view of our world, it was the most beautiful star in the sky..."

"Hmmm...Maybe Eris? History did paint her as a rather malicious trickster, but she was known to be quite beautiful..." Ortho tapped at the desk, mentally reviewing the overwhelmingly large records of Woe and Mourning historical figures.

"It does sound like a pretty horrific status of a planet...pretty from afar, but a toxic environment up close- It's Aphrodite."

The laugh Yuu let out was short and barely contained. She smiles, looking at Idia with a head tilt, "What made you come to that conclusion?"

"Ah…A few hundred years ago, we found what we think were Aprodite's journals. She wasn't much of a mage, but she did dabble heavily in potion crafting. The research she had put into her potions was interesting enough to be published as a scientific memoir. While most of it was her recounting on the properties of plants and other magic objects, she was also ripping on her family viciously..."

"She recounted several ways she's cheated on her husband..."

Yuu laughed harder, "Messy bitch, I love her. Yes. Aphrodite, Romanized to Venus, is the name of the planet. Venus is also called my planet's twin, since they're roughly the same size. Now skipping to the fourth planet-"

Humming under his breath, Ortho's brows creased but he skipped over the third info section in his notes, "We're skipping your planet, Prefect Yuu?"

"If you guys do well on the others, you can guess my planet's name." Yuu taps at the male symbol on the board, "Known as the little red planet, it's the planet we've studied the most. We've sent multiple explorer robots up there and have learned the planet is red because its soil is rich in iron. In fact, it's so red that it's a key naming feature in every culture that discovered the planet."

Idia hummed under his breath, scrolling through the list of historical figures linked to his homeland, "Little and red, huh..."

Ortho perked up and yelled, "Ares!"

"Ding ding ding!" Yuu tapped the symbol, "Ares, the god of war, is the namesake of the little red planet. Romanized to Mars!"

"How'd you guess that Ortho?"

"Do you not remember the legend? Ares and Aphrodite had an affair for many years. During one such meeting, Aphrodite's husband came home. And since he knew what Ares looked like, she poured what was possibly the first draft of a color-changing potion over his head. Unfortunately, it was permanent as Ares remained red for the rest of his days..."

"We just named it because to the Greeks it looked blood-soaked. Your legend is cuter. Now," Yuu taps the next symbol, a stylized '4', "This is the fifth planet. Big as fuck, like insanely big, too big. Like, 13,000 of my planet can fit in this fucker."

"That is big…"

"That's cracked stats big..."

"We also sent a satellite up there named after his wife since a bunch of the moons are named after his lovers."

Ortho and Idia looked at each other, eyes glancing back to Yuu as Ortho asked, "Is that...a cute thing?"

"More along the lines of hilarious."

Idia sighed, "It's Zeus."

"Damn, say it with a bit more hope in your soul at least."

"I don't wanna talk about that asshole..."

Yuu held up her hands, nodding her head, "Fair. But, yes, the fifth planet is named after Zeus, romanized to Jupiter, the big daddy king of the gods."

"Don't...call him that..."

Ortho giggled, "You named a satellite after Hera and sent it to revolve around him?"

"The Romans called her Juno, but yeah, it's funny. Now...This one might be tough because they are not...the same person this time? But are? It's weird."

Yuu taps the next symbol, a stylized 'h', "The second largest planet in our solar system, after the big daddy king-"

"Don't call him that!?"

"Fine. The second largest after Jupiter, it's known for its dazzling outer rings made up of rock and ice. It also has the most moons of any planet."

"Oh? Quick query, Prefect Yuu. What are the moons of the other planets?"

"Well, Mercury and Venus don't have moons. My planet has one moon. Mars has two, Deimos and Phobos named after Ares’ sons. Jupiter has...95 that we know about? Or at the very least ones that are recognized as moons. And...the planet we're talking about now has...274-"

Idia’s eyes widened, even Ortho pulled back in surprise, "What, like, all at once!?"

"We think Jupiter has 600 we just haven't categorized all of them...Jupiter is so fucking big, it's annoying to think about..."

"What...what did you even name them all? At some point, you have to start using numbers instead..." Ortho tilted his head, brows creased in thought.

"Well, the biggest moon is named Titan..."

Idia groaned, "Just tell us, there's...there's too many titans to guess from if the themeing is following what I think it is. And you're saying there's 274 moons? We'll be here all afternoon."

"Well...Saturn is the Roman equivalent of Cronus-"

Both Ortho and Idia jumped back in their seats even more, Idia nearly scrambling backwards to the desks behind him, "Cronus!?"

"Damn...What did he do here? In my world he like...castrated his father and ate five of his children."

"By the Design...I don't...Cronus is theorized to be the first incident of an overblot? It's the only conclusion we can make from what few written accounts of the event we've found. He seemingly went mad one day and attempted to murder his wife and children."

Idia tapped at his tablet, "Was he known as a god in your world? I think after...the incident, his children tried to erase him from history with varying results."

"Uh...varying answer. He was worshipped, but nowhere near as much as his children were. There was kind of a soft spoken respect to him? But he wasn't really worshipped until he was romanized into a god of agriculture."

Ortho squints his eyes, "Agriculture?"

"You know...because of the sickle?"

"...You mean his murder weapon!?"

"Moving on." Yuu turned back to the board, tapping the next symbol, a hybrid of the Sun and Mars symbols mashed together. "We actually only discovered this planet and the rest in the past few hundred years! It and other planets were only theorized to exist, but the technology just couldn't find them yet."

Idia raised his hand, "I wanna keep talking about the fact your world had the legend of a man maiming his father and cannibalizing his children, and they were just cool with him???"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh. This planet has its own iconic set of rings and is actually tilted by 90°. Plus, it's the only planet named after a Greek god instead of Roman. It has fourteen moons, all named after book characters, giving them the title of the 'Literary Moons'."

Ortho hummed, doing brief math in his head before speaking, "So...it rotates normally, but its north and south poles are pointed facing the sun directly?"

Idia let out a terrified peep, "That's way too much sunlight! Wait...how long does daylight last then? If a whole hemisphere is looking right in the crosshairs of the sun?"

"Like 40 years."

"I'd kill myself."

Laughing, Yuu spoke, "It's kind of our fault? The theory is that an object the size of my planet hit it and caused it to tilt."

Idia mumbled under his breath, "Ruining stuff for everyone else is kind of the thing of your world, huh?"

"May we have another hint, Prefect Yuu?"

"Hmmmm...This planet is named after the Greek personification of the sky."

Ortho tilts his head, thinking over his options, "Is it...Ouranos?"

"I'll give you the win." Yuu wrote on the blackboard, giggling, "Uranus is what the planet was called in the end. Here's how we spelled it."

...

"...Prefect Yuu-"

"I know."

Idia held his hand over his mouth, "That's...so disrespectful...Why did you spell it like that...?"

"Because scientists forget at times that children are monsters. Next planet, because I wanna finish and get lunch."

Glancing at the clock, Ortho mused, "It has been a bit since we started."

Yuu tapped the next symbol, very clearly a trident, “This planet-”

Idia and Ortho both spoke, “Poseidon.”

“Let me…fucking speak?”

Idia gestured toward the board, glaring at Yuu in annoyance, “Its symbol is a trident. You’d have to be a noob of the highest degree to not know the symbol of the first Mer-King.”

“Fuck you, I’m still talking. Since it’s so far away, it’s basically a giant ball of ice with dense clouds over its surface. Said clouds were believed to give it an appearance of water though that has been disproven. It has sixteen known moons, all named after lesser sea gods such as Nereid and Triton.”

Idia called out, voice dripping heavily in a sarcastic tone, “Wow, more water-centered historical figures. How could I have not thought it was Poseidon?”

“Shut up, it's called Neptune and your knees are forfeit when we leave this room.” Slapping the board, Yuu nods her head toward the last symbol, “Guess it, you cunt.”

Idia opened his mouth but gave pause, humming as he studied the symbol closer.

Ortho tilted his head, “Is that a ‘G’?

“Ortho, does this look like a G?”

“Yes! It looks like a confused lowercase G!” At Yuu's continued silence, Idia gestured to the board, “Is it!?”

“No! You fucking dumbass- It was the smallest planet of our solar system until it got so unpopular with the scientific community that they declassified it as a planet. Can you guess who this one is named after? Huh? Can you guess, Idia?”

“...That's fucked up and mean.” Idia tapped at his tablet, shrinking back when Yuu leaned over the desk to continue taunting him.

“No, go on say it. Who is the little bitch planet named after that went on to have little bitch descendants?”

Ortho spoke up, the sadness clear in his tone as he looked at the board, “Was it really so disliked…?”

Yuu turns to Ortho, tone softer and all of her hostility gone, “No, it was declassified because after like…80 years of continued study and advancements in telescopes, scientists found that Pluto, romanized from Hades, didn't really…planet right?”

Idia spoke, “How does it not ‘planet’ well?”

“Well, for one, it's small. Like smaller than my planet's moon, small. Pluto's moon is actually only like half its size. And it doesn't orbit properly. It's like riding on Neptune's orbit sometimes. Plus its apparently on a fucking orbital angle different from the other planets, so that's making it weird too.”

Ortho leaned his head against Yuu’s shoulder, playing up his sadness and tapping his fingers together, “Did people really not like it…?”

Yuu sighed, patting Ortho on the head before backing away from the desk, “Nah. From what I remember people were pretty pissed that Pluto lost its status. They just kind of claim its a planet and are debating about it still.”

“Aw…That's nice. So Pluto is very loved in your world?” Ortho's eyes were shining, a clear contrast to Idia’s guarded and half hidden glare.

Rolling her eyes, Yuu smiles, “Yeah. We love that funky little planet. Oh! I have to show you guys a song about Pluto, I think you'd both like it.”

“We'll see about that…” Idia mumbled, glancing at the clock before sighing, “Hey. Did you still…want to do lunch…?”

“Yeah. I really don't even wanna try to find my main trio of braincells right now. So you two get to have me as a lunch date.”

“Oh goody…”

“Shut up, you fucking offered.”

“Wait! Prefect Yuu, you haven't told us your planet's name yet. I want to know.”

“I mean…I've said it before. You know the stuff I'd say when you guys first met me? ‘What on Earth?’ ‘Earth to dipshit.’ ‘Salt of the Earth.’ Stuff like that.”

“...It's Earth?”

“Yep.”

“But…but that's so boring, Prefect Yuu! That just means dirt!”

Yuu couldn't help but chuckle, “And our moon is named Moon.”

Idia huffed, already standing from his seat as Ortho remained fuming in his, “Talk about dropping the ball in the writers room. It's like playing an MMO with an immersive cast of high fantasy names only to find an NPC named Kyle.”

“Yeah…we didn't really see ourselves as a body in the universe…but the other names for Earth and our moon are actually Terra and Luna.”

“Doesn't Luna-”

“Yes, Luna just means Moon. Romanized from the Moon persona, Selene. And Terra is Romanized from the Greek Earth persona, Gaia.”

Both Idia and Ortho freeze, both looking at Yuu with wide eyes.

“...What?”

Idia coughed briefly into his fist, his mouth suddenly dry as his brain raced with theories and ways to soft launch questions to his parents, “Gaea is the name of our Planet…”

“...Huh.” Yuu clicked the remote, holding the door open as the room fell into complete darkness, “It's always kinda weird how close our worlds seem…”

Idia nodded, following behind Yuu and Ortho to the cafeteria, “You're telling me…”

Idia is talking about Xi He of Chinese mythos. Ortho follows up by referring to Tai Yang Xing Jun. She hasn't actually explained this to them, though.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuutalks #twst yuu oc #yuu oc #idia shroud #ortho shroud

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 2 months ago

Text

Cain (p3)

Tw: Violence, Cain is a mean asshole, he is also mentally unstable, lost his shit in this chapter; smashing furniture and shit. This is just abusive relationships man, yandere themes. Reader is gender neutral. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 3

Click here for part 4

Click here for part 1

Days turned into weeks, into months. You've let this stranger live in your apartment rent-free. But you don't think he's a freeloader, because you noticed that whenever something runs out at home, be it eggs, toothpaste, or your favourite snack, it magically replenishes itself. But you knew Cain was behind this; you barely go to the grocery store anymore because it just keeps getting replaced with new versions of it.

You know that he's not paying any of it. The first time you went grocery shopping with him and saw him with the duffle bag, it had a purpose. His stopping by your shopping cart every so often had a purpose; his being a jerk about people looking at him also had a purpose.

You deduced all that when you came back that day and found that there were duplicates of every item you bought in your pantry and fridge. You weren't hallucinating, you weren't going crazy, you didn't pay extra. Cain stole a copy of what you lawfully bought that day.

Asking him about it (no matter how gently) will make him yell at you for being "ungrateful", "picky" and a "Stuck-up asshole", and make him storm off to "cool down" somewhere else on earth. He would come back either injured or with a whole bunch of random valuables, which would disappear the next day. Being the kindhearted person you are, you wanted to think that Cain returned the items to their rightful owners.

Regardless, Cain still replaces your favourite cereal whenever it's running low.

He still maintains his quirk until now: refusing to eat anything unless you take a bite or sip out of it first. You don't have to worry about cooking too much and wasting the leftovers, or eventually finding out that you don't like the dish. Because Cain is like your compost bin, he would just eat it for you.

He doesn't cook. You found that if you left nothing behind, he didn't get to eat that day... or so you assumed. But either way, you made it a habit to cook a larger portion so he could be fed too.

Conversations are few and far between. You know virtually nothing about the man aside from a few fun facts: he likes keeping his hair red because you caught him one day dyeing his hair with a box dye in your bathroom. You thought that you're going to get kicked out or yelled at because it might be an embarrassing situation to be seen in, but instead, upon noticing that you're there, he said:

"Go piss or shit. I don't care." while applying dollops of dye to his hair in front of the sink mirror.

You said that you do mind it very much, you want your privacy.

"Then hold it in. I'll get out when I'm done." He said so nonchalantly.

Other than that, he's surprisingly respectful in his own way. You thought you would need to do everything yourself on top of taking care of a grown man. But Cain learns. He observes you and, most importantly, does what you do to keep this household afloat.

He noticed that you would clean the dishes a few hours after the meal. Cain would do the same thing, just an hour before you're expected to get up and do it.

He noticed you would take out the trash whenever it filled up, which used to be weekly before he came along. Cain would take care of that before you do.

He noticed that you would stress over the bills and how much it has risen since he came into the picture. And there was the question of your mortgage, too. You're too scared to start charging him rent, fearing that he might not take it well, as he seems to be the type who does not like explicit directives.

However, it seems like he would pick up on it. You would find extra cash that is sometimes speckled with some red liquid. And these aren't chump change either; they can go up to hundreds of dollars, usually enough to cover all your bills and give you a bit of fun money.

He would put them in places where you would absolutely find them, but it's an objectively strange choice. You found a rolled-up stack of hundred-dollar bills in your shoes once, five dollars in the shower caddy, twenty dollars taped to the inside of your uniform (scratching you as you put it on), eighty dollars under your pillow... Asking him about his choice to do this leads to the same angry rant about how you're looking down at him and not appreciating his efforts.

Out of all the places, you don't think that he has ever put cash in your wallet. But with the help of Cain, you managed to get yourself a brand new phone and made the mistake of getting him one too. To which, he took great offence until you framed it as your thankfulness for his efforts around the house. And it was a token of his appreciation. Only then did he accept it without speaking any further.

He's unfortunately not too much of a tech wizard, often leaving them at home when going out for long periods. The way he acts made you wonder if he's someone from the 90s being brought forward into the present.

Cain also had an effect on your work life.

You don't think you have missed a bus anymore, as Cain had the balls to block the doors and force the bus driver to wait for you.

Whenever you're doing the closing shift, he would be there to escort you home. And it was the safest you've ever felt, despite feeling embarrassed when you think Cain is being unnecessarily hostile to innocent people who just "appear" unnerving.

You had an idea to try and get Cain to work alongside you. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, Cain agreed to it. Since this is a small town, your boss favours you; he had no problem getting in without an interview or even a background check.

He got fired and banned from the establishment on his first day.

A woman in her mid-ages complained to Cain that her coffee wasn't done well when he had followed all the instructions to a T. She has complained that it wasn't hot enough for her, despite it being at a temperature that can burn. You don't know what set him off that day; maybe it was the ridiculous nature of her complaint, or maybe she reminded him of his many foster mothers who neglected him.

To your horror, Cain decided to splash the cup of coffee against her face. She screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Raising his voice, "Fucking hot enough now, isn't it?"

Cain walked out of the cafe with eyes all on him; it was a miracle that no one was recording. And it was an even bigger miracle that you kept your job, the woman didn't press charges, and neither did your boss. You, of course, apologized profusely to them.

The woman screamed about suing them all, putting Cain behind bars, and closing the cafe down. But you never heard from her again, not even a subpoena. You thought she had a change of heart, and such a nice woman for forgiving everyone.

You expressed your thoughts about it, and Cain kept his lips sealed. He also didn't want to look you in the eye. Perhaps he's feeling remorseful?

You had no idea what happened to your bicycle; it disappeared the day you got your new phone. Asking Cain about it will just earn you a huff and silence. Pressing him about it will get you yelled at for being a dumbass and potentially being part of the statistics of idiotic bicycle deaths.

You think he sold your bicycle.

But it's alright, because he made it up to you by getting a Roomba. You don't know how that is the equivalent of your bicycle, but in his mind, he thinks it is. It was one of the things he's actually proud to present to you, and you didn't have the heart to express anything less than gratitude.

You have to admit that it's quite interesting and fun to watch the small robot just scutter around the room. You would catch him doing that, too, and he doesn't seem to care that you're there, unless you stare at him for too long and not at the Roomba.

Laundry is a strange ordeal with him. There is a Laundromat nearby, and he would always be the one to do it. Whenever you tried doing your own, he would hiss and snarl like a wild animal before snatching it away from you.

As it turns out, he just likes watching the clothes spin and spin through the windows of the front-loading washing machines and dryers. You deduced that it's almost meditative to him, because he would be at his calmest in the laundromat... as long as no one keeps his eyes on him too long.

You even joined him one day, sitting next to him and watching the hypnotizing spin. He paid you no mind, but you knew that he was aware of your presence, as there was one time someone tried striking up a conversation with you. Only for the stranger to be met with Cain's snappy attitude, no one dared to approach you after that.

All seems well. Even though it felt like you were walking on eggshells around him at first, you quickly learned his unspoken, sacred rules and easily maneuvered this strange friendship you have with him. You think Cain is perfectly integrated into your life, and he seems content either sleeping on the couch or on the floor.

He never asked for more, but you're sure that his back is probably killing him from sleeping like a shrimp. So you made the change from a regular couch to a sofa bed, and you made sure to clarify that you're doing this for yourself. Cain didn't object to it, which you can safely interpret as approval.

And approved he did, he was the first one to try out and explore the new piece of furniture. Cain hogged it entirely, using it as a bed and also a shelf, having items randomly placed as if they're soft plushies- you noticed that he's a bit of a hoarder with the random jewelry and items he brings home. He wouldn't encroach on your cabinets and drawers, save for that one portable closet you bought online for him. It was empty for a few weeks until he got the hint that it was for him to put his own stuff. And boy, did he really utilize it.

He doesn't verbally express his gratitude, but you know that he's not taking whatever you gave him for granted. You can see it in his actions, you can feel it.

You don't really have a lot of contacts in this town. But sometimes you do have friends and family flying in and asking if they could spend the night at your place. And you're always put in an extremely difficult position, because what the hell should you tell them? You tried asking Cain if they could stay over, and he flew into a fit of rage. Now, you only saw him cry once, and that was when he first asked you if he could stay at your place. But there were hot, angry tears whenever you mentioned friends and family.

And you could tell that he felt really hurt for some reason. You couldn't tell what the hell he was ranting about, but he goes ballistic over the thought of you having a life outside of him.

Unfortunately, you end up turning them away, because at one point, his outburst got so bad that he took your phone and smashed it against the ground while screaming about how life is unfair to him, about how he wishes death upon your friends and family that he hasn't even met, about how it was only supposed to be you and him. And no one else.

You told him that you didn't understand why he was so upset over your friends and family. You said that you wouldn't have them over if he doesn't want them encroaching on his space. Though you felt bitter when you realized you didn't have full control over your own home.

"Of course you don't! You don't- Don't know what it's like to be me! I fucking hate it, I fucking hate myself! I-I-" He was pacing around, tugging on his hair and grinding his teeth. His teary face scrunched up, as if he were in unbearable pain.

He curled up into a ball on your living room floor and just sobbed. He was expressing a lot of pain, the type that would kill any normal person. But not him, because he's strong and fueled with determination to live in spite of it. But there is only so much stress a man like him can handle.

You looked around. And saw the broken furniture, electronics, and decor that Cain destroyed during his massive meltdown. Most importantly, the phone that's in pieces on the floor. You should have left, you should have called the police, and changed your locks.

Yet, you made the conscious decision to stay and hold a respectful silence for him. You didn't touch him, you didn't give him words of comfort, you just stayed.

And to Cain, that was his first taste of warmth that didn't scorch him. The type of warmth that soothes him, the warmth that he was supposed to receive from the one who loves him.

He mumbled something. You let out a "huh?" as you didn't catch what he said.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered in between sniffles.

That shook you to the core; it was the first time you had heard him apologize. It must have taken tremendous strength for him to have said that. And so, you verbally and clearly forgave him.

He broke down further, crying harder and coughing more.

You didn't know why or what you were doing, but you scooted over and coaxed him to place his head on your lap. You then started to play with his hair. And this seemed to lull him into a deep sense of safety, as you saw him struggling to keep his eyelids open.

He felt warm.

Over the following days, Cain tried his best to clean everything up and to replace whatever he broke. Which is nice of him, but you knew he shoplifted a lot just to do that, and you wished he didn't.

Neither of you spoke about the incident. You end up using his phone as your own now. Cain offered that as a solution. He didn't mention getting another phone for you or himself, though.

Disappointed, but accepting, your friends and family ended up deciding to get a hotel instead. But the visitation date would be pushed back further. You don't think it was a good time to talk to Cain about them visiting, regardless.

Life went on as usual. Except Cain would be at home a lot more, seemingly wanting to get close to you. His temper became much milder, and he became a lot less snappy, instead opting to stay silent when he gets irritated.

You didn't think much of it, until one day he dropped this bomb on you:

"I'm in love with you."

He said this with such conviction, no room for doubt, all certainty. It wasn't phrased as a question, but a solid statement.

You were sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, doing the crossword puzzle book Cain got you as a silent apology for destroying your phone. You looked up and examined his face.

His eyes were soft. Weary, even. There was no hint of wrath, trickery, or shame. There was an air of desperation and even... vulnerability around him. It's a new look on him, and it felt uncanny to you.

You have no idea how to respond. So you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, but said nothing.

Eventually, you expressed that you're speechless and you don't know what to do with his confession.

He looked crestfallen. Cain then averted his eyes to somewhere else. You saw that he's blinking a lot more and taking deeper breaths.

You thought that was the end of that conversation because he didn't continue it for a while.

But you were wrong.

"...What would it fucking take to make you love me, huh?"

You felt the chills down your spine once you heard the harshness return to his once tender tone. He's back, and he's pissed.

His expression became mean. He became the Cain that you always knew. You sighed inwardly, realizing that you had made him put his walls back up.

"Was everything not enough?! Am I not enough for you, huh?! You think you're better than me?!" He shot up from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table. You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. But you could feel the excruciating torment of being rejected once again, and he felt cold. He felt unwanted once more.

You made yourself much smaller in your chair, putting your hands up as a shield.

"You're a fucking asshole, a fucking piece of shit, I hate-" He choked on his own tears, knuckles turning white over how tight he balled his fists. "I..." He gulped and then coughed, then gasped for air. Then sobbed.

It was a pitiful cycle, and it was scary to watch. But you do so anyway, because you believe that everyone deserves to be heard, no matter how insane.

Cain collapsed back into his chair and sobbed into his hands. He kept wiping his eyes and nose harshly, until they turned red.

"I-I can never hate you, I can't. I..."

Cain sounded so broken. But there isn't anything you could do aside from waiting it out.

"I don't know..." He rasped. "I'm in love with you, and it hurts. It really fucking hurts."

You gave him a minute to calm down before speaking up.

You asked him how you could help. To that, you were met with a long pause from the distressed man in front of you.

He reluctantly put his hands down, not before giving himself one last wipe.

Cain then brought his gaze to yours, and you never realized how beautiful his deep brown eyes were. Tortured, but they held an almost ethereal quality to them.

"Will you... Love me back?" He asked, with caution and hope.

You hesitantly replied that you could... try.

Save for the birds outside and the humming of the refrigerator, it was a pin-drop silence. It seems like Cain was processing all of this on his own.

You don't know if you should have said that. Immediately, you started wondering what you had gotten yourself into. But before your thoughts could get too deep,

"Thank you."

It was said in earnest, filled with gratitude and reverence.

Both of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other's quiet and comforting company.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere male #yandere oc #reader insert #x reader #yandere x reader #oc Cain #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #male yandere oc #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #tw violence #tw unhealthy relationship

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autumnmobile12 · 3 months ago

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My Hero Theory: What is Hawks?

In the never ending debate of exactly what type of bird-heteromorph Hawks is supposed to be, and everyone's theories are fascinating, I want to throw out an absolutely bonkers theory.

First, something that confused me about his character design is why he has slit pupils. That's not a noted bird trait. It's more commonly found in ambush predators like small cats, snakes, foxes, etc.

I admit, the most likely reason he has slit pupils is Horikoshi just thought it would look cool and didn't care how accurate it was to general bird anatomy. And honestly? Fair. Nobody's saying the slit pupils didn't look awesome. And there is one bird species that has slit pupils and it's the black skimmer. (Also fun fact, the only other bird that doesn't have round pupils is the penguin, which has square pupils. The more you know.)

Anyway, I guess since Hawks has slit eyes, headcanon he shares the same vision advantages Toga has which I discussed in this post.

Second, though, is I'm kinda skeptical of the idea that he's strictly a 'bird'-heteromorph. In spite of the fandom occasionally adding fangs and talons to his design, his only canon non-human features are his wings and his eyes, only one of which is primarily an avian trait while the slit pupils are a rare exception in birds. The Quirk itself is just called 'Fierce Wings' and Hawks is a name he gave himself, which could indicate he simply identifies as a bird and we could move on.

But for the sake of argument, think about this:

Personally, when I hear the words 'slit pupils,' my brain goes to cat.

Wings = Avian

Slit pupils = Felidae (small cat)

With the existence of Ryukyu in the My Hero world, we know that Quirks can be mythical in appearance.

So with a combination of feline and avian qualities in a single person and folklore being at play...

...I'm gonna throw out the theory that Hawks is a griffin-heteromorph.

Yes, lions and eagles both have round pupils, so it's not a perfect theory, but I've seen modern depictions play with the griffin designs that are different type of bird/cat combination.

Admittedly, this theory is probably more shitpost than theory, but I think it’s fun.

#my hero academia #hawks #keigo takami #theory #headcanon #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha

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seneon · 5 months ago

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APOCALYPSE ──── teenage¡touya × teenage¡reader.

about. winters are always spent with the todoroki family. except, this winter is a more bit special. set in a no quirk! au. romance. touya is written as touya, before dabi existed. reader is a poet/writer. listen to apocalypse. wc of 1900+

notes. happiest birthday to one of the most complexed character i ever loved. it's also shidmerica ( my babies ) 1 year anniversary!! so it's written specially for them. my heart belongs to you, @w1nterelle and @hyoismbbg 🖤

THE FLURRIES OF SNOW DANCED OUTSIDE WITH UTMOST GRACE. you stood by the window, the chill from the glass seeped into your skin, but it didn’t dampen your spirit.

winter break had already begun, and the promise of endless fun stretched out before you like a freshly fallen blanket of white. it itches all the cells in your skin and calls out to you for a walk in this season of winter which you haven’t seen in a while.

so you grabbed your coat from the worn out hook by the todoroki’s door, fabric whispering against the wooden paneling.

the snow crunched underfoot, a rhythmic soundtrack to the stillness that had descended upon the neighborhood. the world was muffled, as if the flakes were little sound absorbers, leaving only the occasional distant laugh or the jingle of a collar to pierce the quiet.

your eyes looked around, feeling a sense of familiar comfort wash over you. when have you last seen this familiar neighbourhood covered in a veil of pearly white snow?

the towering pines were laden with snow, their branches bowing gracefully under the weight of 'winter's kiss', just as touya’s mother likes to say.

and after you came to the said boy. touya looked like the living embodiment of the season itself, his cheeks flushed from the cold, turquoise eyes sparkling with the same brightness as the icicles that hung from the eaves of the neighbouring houses. his hair the perfect compliment of the snow.

this is how you knew the eldest todoroki— pale and beautiful, every christmas or new years your family spent with the todorokis had painted that image of him ever since childhood.

touya’s breath hung in the air, little puffs of condensation that seemed to carry his unseen excitement. his smile was tiny, and though it didn’t reach his eyes, it was very much visible enough to you.

you waved, and he waved back. the snowflakes caught in his snow-white lashes like a sprinkle of glitter. touya bounded over, his boots leaving tracks in the untouched snow, and handed you a pair of gloves.

“you... are begging for a cold, missy.”

to have touya hand out a pair of his gloves is satisfying to you, because he knows you’ve forgotten the ones he got you for christmas two years ago. it’s left at home to practically rot like your old piano left in the dark to collect dust.

you took the gloves. “thank you, touya,” you gave him a tiny smile with a surfacing blush as he watched you put it on. his hands are larger than yours, that’s for sure. so the gloves looked a tad bit funny on you. but it didn’t matter now.

“so what do you want to do first? i heard the park has a new toboggan slide this year,” said touya as you shook your head. “i want to walk around the neighbourhood. i haven’t been here in a while.”

“alright, sure,” touya replied and adjusted the collar of his coat, the wind causing the fabric to snap gently. “but don’t say i didn’t warn you if you get frostbite on your cheeks,” he added, causing a soft chuckle to emit from the depths of your throat.

he started off towards the sidewalk, each step leaving a trail of footprints in the fresh snow. you followed suit, your boots sinking into the white carpet that covered the ground.

the air was crisp and biting, carrying the faint scent of pine and wood smoke from distant chimneys. the houses lining the street were adorned with wreaths and lights, their windows glowing.

the silence settled over you both like a blanket, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. touya seemed content to just walk side by side, his gaze flickering from the snow-laden trees to the sky, a soft smile on his face.

if anything else, he looked at peace, wrapped in the quiet simplicity of the winter morning. there was something oddly charming about him at this moment, something so soft. the wind caught a few snowflakes, whirling them around his head like a silvery crown.

curiousity strikes out of nowhere, and you glance at the todoroki. it was only for a moment, but you noticed so many subtle details on his face in that short moment.

despite the cold, a light flush dusted across his pale cheeks. touya’s eyelashes, unusually thick for a boy, were dusted with flecks of white, catching the sunlight. his precious white hair, windswept and messy, clung to his forehead, giving him a boyish, almost vulnerable appearance.

his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and every so often, he would huff out a breath, creating a tiny cloud in front of his mouth. each exhale was accompanied by a small, barely perceptible shiver.

“you’re really pretty for a boy, y’know?”

touya’s cheeks blossomed a field of red roses in this cold winter, and he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

“pretty?” he mumbled, eyes flickering anywhere but your face. “guys aren’t supposed to be pretty.”

despite his awkward and flustered expression, there was a hint of bashful pleasure in his eyes. it was clear that he wasn’t used to compliments, especially of this nature.

your fingers dived into the pockets of your winter coat, the tips brushing against a small leather notebook as you looked down at the snow beneath. “i know, touya. but you grow even more beautiful every winter.”

the boy’s cheeks reddened further, turning an almost cherry red. he was clearly unused to such blatant praise, and it seemed to leave him flustered and at a loss for words.

“i— well…” he stuttered, his usual reserve crumbling in the face of your compliment. his ears had taken on a similar hue as his cheeks, and he seemed unable to look directly at you, his gaze darting to the snow-covered road instead.

“thank you, i guess,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, and it made the corner of your lips curved upwards just a little.

silence engulfed the air for a moment as you both walked along the snowy roads. not long before, you decided to break the silence again.

“do you like poetry?”

he shakes his head in denial. “no, but they’re sometimes nice to read though,” touya looks over at you. “don’t you write poetry? have you written a piece for anyone?”

you bit your lip, clearly contemplating touya's question. your face was a mix of hesitance and curiosity, as if you were warring with yourself over whether to share something deeply personal.

“i’ve written a few,” you admitted, voice almost inaudible over the sound of the wind. “mostly just.. thoughts and observations. nothing really significant, i guess. they’re also messy metaphors that make almost no sense.”

you paused, fingers still tracing the worn leather of your little notebook in your pocket. “but to answer your question... yes. i have. for one person, specifically.”

“oh? who’s the lucky person?” touya raises a brow, and you flushed a shade of wine red. suddenly, the snow beneath your feet looks interesting. your gaze flickered to touya’s for a moment, a mix of vulnerability and shyness in your pretty eyes.

you swallowed hard, hand clenching and unclenching nervously at your side. it was clear that admitting this was difficult for you, but you seemed resigned to doing so.

“it’s you,” you said softly, the word barely above a whisper, as if you were afraid someone else might hear.

the boy blinked twice, or it was many. either way he couldn’t tell. he was quite baffled that he is your subject of muse for your poetry.

“me?” he questioned as a chuckle emitted from him.

your cheeks were a vibrant scarlet now, gaze firmly planted on the ground. you nodded almost imperceptibly. “yeah, you,” you scratched your cheeks with a finger. “it’s silly, i know. i just... there's something about you that makes me write, y’know?”

touya kicked a pile of snow as you both continued to walk along the streets. he then looked over at you, noticing your undeniably adorable flushed cheeks.

“can i read your poem? that is, if you’re okay with it.”

“uh—” you trailed off, swallowing some gathering saliva in your mouth. the idea of someone reading your most private thoughts was terrifying, but there was also a small flicker of hope in his eyes, a glimmer of the prospect of being understood through the beauty of your words.

you nodded slowly, voice still soft and tentative as you looked up at him. “okay. you can read it,” you replied in a whisper. “but touya... promise me you won’t laugh, alright?”

touya would never laugh at you, gosh, he never will. not when his heart swells at the idea of you writing about him and he gets to read it.

with a deep breath, you braced yourself and fumbled with the zipper of your jacket. then, a worn leather notebook from your pocket was extracted. the cover was slightly frayed at the edges, evidence of many hours spent flipping through the pages.

you held it out for touya, hand trembling the slightest bit. “here.”

he took it and gestured to a bookmarked page. seeing you nod confirmed that the page was the poem about him. as touya’s turquoise eyes scanned the words scribbled in your handwriting, he could feel his heart fluttering.

your emotions were laid bare on the page— the joy, the trepidation, the deep admiration and more. it was a raw, unfiltered confession, each line a direct window into your thoughts and feelings. you watched him with a mix of anticipation and fear, waiting for him to judge you in any way. pessimism seems to storm your mind at this moment.

once the written poem has been finished reading, the first thing touya did was look at you, a brow raised.

“what?” you immediately asked, the fear growing more prominent. all he did was simply chuckled as he said, “you’re a romantic, aren’t you? ‘your lips, my lips, apocalypse’, hmm? is this one of those messy metaphors of yours that doesn’t make any sense?”

he teased, and if not for your prominent blush, it could have your skin grow even warmer than it already has. you’re so flustered and to the angels of heaven above does touya adore the sight of you that stands out from the winter snows.

before you could utter a reply or anything that might spill out from your lips, he looked at the small notebook, a smile slowly carving its way at the corner of his lips.

“i love it. the way you write, the way you describe me. every word, every messy metaphors… it’s perfect.”

to hear his words sent a wave of relief and emotions throughout every inch of your soul. it seemed to warm you up in this cold winter wonderland, providing you with comfort.

“i’m glad you think so,” you chuckled. “i was worried it was too cliché or sentimental.”

“oh believe me when i say this, it is cliché, not sentimental. but it’s those stupid romantic clichés,” touya shut the notebook and handed it to you, watching as you kept it in your pocket, down into the coat it goes.

“stupid romantic clichés…” you repeated, allowing your mind to wander and ponder upon his words. as your conscious mind pays a visit to wonderland, he paused in his tracks, leans down, and collides his lips with yours.

your footsteps came to a halt, eyes widening ever so slightly as his warm hands moved to hold your chin. his lips kissed your top lip, then your bottom lip. at last, a final peck, and another one on your nose.

“there. your lips, my lips...”

“apocalypse,” you smiled.

TAGGING ★ @solvisun @seumyo @angeliicheartt @heartkaji @syverse @rueclfer @suksatoru @poetlus @elssero @redvdress @poemeater @dem1verse @haunted4kent @luvlyycy @skiiyoomin @leahrintarou @bbluefllame @ryescapades @bysarahada @sepptember @sahrii @reocidal | read teenage winter tenko here !

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westanleovaldito · 2 months ago

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Nosferatu

(Implied early seasons) Spencer Reid x gn!eader

Summary: upon seeing the book on his shelf, you offer to take him to the new Nosferatu movie. You were, however, very in the dark about the plot.

A/N: kinda short, been a bit since i wrote something (or watched the movie) and my brother gave me this idea so credit to @ericthebarbaric and yall know i love early seasons Spence, so technically counts as a modern au?? Fuck if i know. Also very self endulgent and Nosferatu spoilers :)

All you wanted was to go on a date. A nice one too. You saw the old, worn, clearly loved copy of a book on his shelf, and recognized it as the movie that recently came out.

Naturally, you reached to look at it. Squatting down as you looked at the inside summary.

"Oh, do you want to borrow that copy?" He asked as he entered the livingroom, still wringing his hands. "You can read it if you want?"

You, knowing borrowing knowledge was his love language, only shook your head as you stood. "It's ok. I just got an idea though." You smile, cocking your head.

He mirrored you, waiting for you to continue.

"There's a remake in theaters," you start with a grin. So, so proud of yourself for doing something he'd like. "We can watch it together if you want?"

His face flushed. He wasn't used to people flirting with him- especially not pretty people. You had been dating for about three months now, and you had just accepted that his shell would be hard to break.

"Do you- do you know what it's about?" He asked, raising a brow.

You shrugged, humming softly. "Lonely victorian girl summons plague-y vampire?"

"Sure." He let out a soft chuckle, nodding as a knowing grin overtook him. "It'll be fun."

"Hell yeah it will!" You smiled, setting the book back.

The morning was lovely. Sunny with a colder breeze. Bagel and coffee in hand, you walked down the street with Spencer, playfully pushing his shoulder with your own as you teased him. It was great! Even as you sat in the empty theater, whispering and giggling to eachother.

The lights dimmed fully, signaling the advertisements and trailers were completely done. You gave a final whisper to him, grinning as you leaned a little closer.

You were still hyper aware of his quirks, touch aversion, germaphobia, and his need to take things at what felt like snails pace- which you were patient with! Today, you felt like holding his hand, but you were unsure of how he'd react and-

Oh right, the film.

The image of a lonely victorian girl, praying for company made you chuckle slightly. "That's just me when you leave." You whispered to him.

It looked a little like his face had flushed, he always blushed when you spoke closer to him. Still, he nodded and help back a giggle.

Something about the knowing smirk on his face, like he was the one making a joke this time, it made you happy and suspicious at the very same time.

You looked back to the screen to see the main woman writhing and moaning, suspended in the air. "Huh..." you vocalized in a clearly shoked tone. "Id she possessed? I wasnt- Is she orgasming?!" You whisper yelled in mild horror.

There was soft, restricted giggle beside you, followed by the crunch of popcorn. You looked over to see Spencer, face bright red, just before he looked away.

"Did you know about this?!" You asked, knowing the answer.

You knew he adored classic literature, but you forgot classic literature got... modern, in ways. Was there even smut in the book itself? Dr. Spencer Walter Reid read vampire smut?!

"I don't know what you're talking about" he grinned after gulping. His eyes were fixed on the bottom left corner of the screen, clearly flustered.

"Are you getting back at me for all the subtle flirting?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about" he repeated with a flushed giggle, shoving more popcorn in his mouth.

The entire rest of the film was full of your shock, Spencer trying not to look at anything and the both of you stifling laughter.

At the end of the film, at the final sex scene, when the evil vampire (who was horrifically bullied by you) screamed as the sun hit him, you grinned. "Post nut clarity" you whispered, much to the dismay of the one other woman in the theater, since the man next to you let out the loudest laugh of the day.

This, ofcourse, was followed by the most disgusted "ewugh!" Either of you had ever made at the sight of the last shot of the movie.

"So, did you enjoy it?" Spencer asked at the end when the lights came on. You finally got to see the full extent of his reddened face.

You paused, attempting to find the right words. "It was scarring" you smile and nod, much to his amusment. "I think i would've enjoyed it more if i was prepared for the, uh... graphic nature"

He nodded, tossing the popcorn bucket away and gesturing for you to link arms. "I just wanted to see you flustered for once."

"You could've done literally anything else- maybe do something spontaneous or-"

Before you could finish, he grinned. Leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Li-like that?" He asked, clearly in horror of his own actions. Initiating physical affection was something he was trying to do more of, and you would be proud of him in a moment.

All you could do was pause and blink like the windows loading screen. "Uh... y-yeah" you nod, looking to him with a growing smile. "Exactly like that"

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #shy spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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kirietown · 2 months ago

Text

Star Burster | Part III

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: a cute first date takes a bit of a bad turn.

Content: period typical sexism

18+

[chapter two] … [chapter four]

Word count: 2.6K

a/n: we’re going to collectively pretend that cars were mass produced & available during this period…

Despite his clumsiness, Clark was a good driver. He picked you up at one o'clock sharp, and led you into his family's automobile with a bouquet of lilies in hand which you had to rush inside with and find a good vase before you headed off. The ride itself was only about a half hour, which was relatively short for the old rural town. Smallville might have been small, but it wasn't that ideal for walking, not unless you expected to get somewhere by nightfall. The ride had been quiet, though not unbearably so, as it was more of a calm quiet with Clark humming a tune here and there. You'd hardly noticed his vehicle had been parked until you heard the thunk of his door opening, and his hurried footsteps rushing over to your side and opening up your door. A classic gentleman, he was.

"I- I know that it's a little early i-in the day, but I thought you'd appreciate not having to deal with no crowds," he said sheepishly as he led you by the hand out of the lot and to the ticket booth. You hummed in response, your eyes latching onto the various booths and attractions.

"Oh!" you cried. Clark's head turned to you in surprise as he shoved the various tickets he'd bought into his pocket. "Oh Clark, we have to see the acrobats!" The sign outside the massive tent showed an imagining of what looked to be a Romani couple and a young boy soaring through the air, the bold elegant writing below titled them The Flying Graysons. It looked as though their next show wouldn't start until tomorrow however, and you felt your excitement flatten.

As if sensing your sadness, Clark spoke calmingly. "Not to worry, I- I just know there has to be other fun events going on today."

…

He'd been right as the two of you went all around the fair, looking at new trinkets, and seeing all sorts of fun tricks. There had been a man who swallowed an entire sword in one go! That one had been by far the most impressive if not for the escape artist, Mister Miracle, who could escape from anything he put his mind to.

“Oh this one looks new,” you paused. It looked like a typical strength testing game, with a scale and a hammer to match. The difference from all the rest being the giant wooden cut out of the Superman standing tall next to it. The owner of the game beamed when he noticed your concerned look, likely mistaking it for intimidation.

“How’s ’bout ya let ya man take a swing at this, huh?” He chortled, a deep laugh as though the thought of Clark winning a strength based game was hilarious. Clark stood at six feet, and about extra five inches, yet despite his height, many assumed him to be some sort of wimp due to his demeanour.

“Why’s it gotta be my man?” You asked curiously. “You don’t think I could win your little game?”

The man laughed even louder, “a little lady like you?”

“I’m hardly little,” you replied. Your brow quirked up as he continued to laugh, tears practically falling out of his aged brown eyes.

“Now, I don’t think you’re giving my fiancée a fair chance,” Clark chirped up. You angled around to face him, noting his lips were screwed up as if he were holding back from saying more.

“Alright alright,” the man finally relented. “Hand me ya tickets and I’ll let the lady have her shot, but I don’t call this the Superman for nothing, ya hear?” He turned to you, his face in a sneer. “So don’t start crying if ya don’t getcha prize in the end.”

You merely scoffed in response before lifting the hammer, doing your best not to let your nerves show. The hammer was a heavy wooden one, and you were careful not to let it give you splinters as you walked over to a better position near the trigger you needed to hit. You noted Clark was standing quite close.

”Careful now, Clark,” you said. “I don’t wanna accidentally get your foot.”

Your fiancé only offered a small smile. “I trust you,” he said. “Now let’s show him?”

Those words led you to take a deep breath, and you shut your eyes before you reopened them and drove the hammer down onto the trigger. You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but it almost felt like a strong gust of wind came crashing down with you as soon as the hammer hit the trigger. You watched as the little ball rose all the way up the beam and struck the bell signalling that you had won the game.

“Damn!” You said gleefully. The game owner cussed at the same time.

“Ain’t nobody’s beaten this game ever, and somehow a little lady did?” He cried in shock. “Well, ain’t that a lesson for me…”

“If no one’s won it before, surely that’s a sign to make the game a little easier for fairness sake?” Clark spoke, a half smile quirked on his face. “Unless you’re our little superwoman right here, of course.” You blushed at his words, still riding off the high of your win. Sometimes, you liked to hear Clark when he spoke to others. He never stuttered as much, it was as though that part of him was reserved for you funny enough.

“This here’s a business, not some charity,” the owner laughed, handing you a teddy bear.

“Speaking of,” you said, accepting your prize. “Did ya get permission to use his face for your game here?” You continued, pointing towards the painted wooden face of Superman.

“What’s he gonna do, sue me?” The man replied with a roll of his eyes before ushering the two of you away.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh, thinking about your victory.

“Looks like all my years helping out on the farm have really made me super strong, Clark,” you said.

“You certainly showed him,” he responded with a goofy grin.

You'd had a lot of fun playing the other games the fair had to offer, as you soon learnt that Clark had good aim despite his usual lack of coordination. However, it did land you into a few disputes with the respective workers because they swore he had to have cheated somehow. Indeed, you defended Clark from the likes of them as if your life depended on it. They were just a bunch of no good scam artists! After that, the two of you, along with your many stuffed bears, decided to make your final destination the beautiful ferris wheel ride.

"You were right about the crowds, I remember coming by the fair one summer with my ma, and it felt like I had to wait hours to get on this damn ride. But we're already at the front and it's barely been a minute," you praised. Your eyes glued to Clark's arms, making sure that if he dropped any of your beloved teddy bears from today he'd earn an earful. So far he'd been good, but you still kept your eye on him, counting all eleven of your new babies.

"Well, so-sometimes, when y-you're a kid, well, time goes by slow, don't ya think?" He replied. The bears shaking as he spoke, causing a giggle from you. "That sound," he said. "I can't get enough of it."

His voice, void of the meekness, void of the stutter. For a second, for a brief moment you felt something deep inside you turn at the deepness. It felt familiar, but it was easier not to question it, especially when it was now your turn up into the ferris wheel. You bounded on, the worker letting you adjust in your seat as you watched Clark approach, before he suddenly came to a stop, as though he heard something. Clark stilled for a moment before he approached you timidly, he bent over as though to tell you a little secret.

"Gee," he said. "S-seeing it up close, I-- I don't think I- quite con-conquered my fear of heights. I- I think I-l'll put these little guys in the automobile, and wait for-for you once the ride's over." He turned quickly then, barely waiting for a response from you as he walked away still clutching onto those teddy bears like his life depended on it. You continued to watch his back as the ride whirred to life, your body floating higher and higher into the sky, but your eyes still focused on the giant man until you lost sight of him amongst the crowd.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed. After all, ferris wheels were supposed to be romantic, weren’t they? Nonetheless, you tried to enjoy the view, taking in the sight of the perimeter of the fair. It really was large, and from this height you could see that you hadn’t gotten a chance to see a small farmer’s market that had been set up along the western edge. Maybe you could ask Clark to give it a stop before your journey home. If he refused, it would sour your date considering his fear of the ferris wheel, but you doubted he would.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the ferris wheel lurching to a halt. You sighed, assuming it was just rusty, until a sound of screeching reached your ears and suddenly you felt as though you were sliding onto an angle. People’s screams echoed through your skull as the riders around you panicked, their shaking caused the hinges to loosen more.

You held your breath, gripping onto the handles of your seat. You steadied yourself, and shut your eyes. Your mom had taught you that during these moments, it was important to pray, and you’d be safe. But, the man you prayed to surely wasn’t the one she had in mind. No, certainly not, as you might as well have prayed to the devil in her eyes if she knew of your coupling.

No, you had shut your eyes, and whispered, as if knowing he’d hear, “Superman,” and for a moment there was nothing. It frightened you because you realized the screams had stopped and you didn’t know why. That was, until you felt a strong pair of arms wrap themselves delicately around you.

“You called?” He said as he lifted you into the air. The sound of the ferris wheel creaking.

“We have a lot to talk about,” you said. Your eyes were still shut, refusing to open them, knowing that currently you were suspended in the air and the only thing keeping you afloat was the man who been running through your mind since the day you met him.

“Indeed we do,” he replied, and you shivered as you felt how close his lips were to your neck. A sudden warmth flooded in your gut at the memory you shared. “I’ll visit you tonight, but I can’t show favouritism right now… I also have a bad guy to catch.”

You opened your eyes, sensing yourself being lowered slowly.

“What about the other people on the ride?” You asked, suddenly worried. He only gave you a half smile in response.

”I’ve already gotten them all down to safety, I didn’t think it would hurt to take my time with you.”

“I thought you couldn’t show favouritism,” you replied in a snarky tone. His feet were now on the ground, and he let you go as a crowd instantly formed around the two of you.

“Sometimes,” he whispered. “I suppose I can break my own rules when it comes to you.” You didn’t reply, as the crowd all gathered, displacing you amongst them. You watched for a moment, a bright smile on his face as mothers’ brought their children close to him. It looked as though he cared deeply, you knew then that he loved doing what he did despite how the people suffocated him. He said his apologies and then took off into the sky and towards a nearby tent.

He had said something about bad guys before he left you, and suddenly you came to the realization that perhaps the ferris wheel malfunctioning wasn’t no accident.

…

It took you ages to spot Clark amongst the giant crowd that had formed, especially as the sheriff and his crew had also turned up to grab the culprits that Superman had left behind for them. You weren’t sure why he didn’t stick around, though you assumed he had other people to save considering you knew that he’d been spotted all over the world. You felt he had a particular soft spot for Smallville. Perhaps it was your own bias but you believed anyone who came to Smallville had a soft spot for the town and its people.

“Are you alright?” Clark asked when he saw you. “I— I didn’t k-know what to think wh-when I saw the big crowd, and why, I- I nearly fainted when I heard something ha-had to the ferris wheel.” He breathed a deep sigh. “I- I should’ve stayed with you,—“

”It’s alright, Clark,” you said lightly. “Let’s head on home now,” you smiled. That feeling of guilt had once again returned, though not for your previous actions. But in the fact that it was Clark you had to comfort just now, it was Clark you had to reassure. You felt resentment bubble over in you, but it didn’t come with anger, instead it came with guilt.

You felt guilty because he was a good man, and a small part of you wished he was an even greater man. The date had gone well, it really did. But the thought at the back of your brain that resented Clark for leaving you alone in the first place had you a bit bothered.

It wasn’t his fault, of course it wasn’t and you knew that, and you felt like an awful person for thinking this way.

“I didn’t know you were scared of heights,” you said quietly after you had stepped into his automobile together.

“I— I suppose I didn’t either until I— I came face to face with the ride,” he replied, his eyes downcast. “I- I hope you don’t think less of me after today,” he murmured.

“I think… I think I was just disappointed, that’s all,” you replied. “But I suppose it’s for the best, after all, it wouldn’t have helped your fear had you been on it when the accident happened.”

“I suppose not… But it wasn’t right of me to leave you alone,” he replied. His tone was earnest. He turned to face you, his hand hesitantly opening to offer you assurance. Gracefully you placed yours in his, welcoming his warmth and softness. “I promise never to leave you like that again, I— I was cowardly, dear, a-and just the thought of you terrified all alone up in that ride until he came, well, I— I don’t know how I can sleep tonight…”

Your heart ached at his words, suddenly aware of how you truly had given into your negative thoughts about Clark just as he had suspected. It wasn’t fair for you to judge him for this, it hadn’t been fair that he left you all alone, but it wasn’t like he could have saved you had he been there.

“I want you to sleep comfortably, Clark,” you replied before taking his hand up and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I always want you to sleep comfortably.” He offered a squeeze back in response, his eyes obscured by his curls but the red of his cheeks as visible as the sun on a hot summer’s day.

“Thank you for today,” you mumbled, and pressed your lips against his hand once again. The first kiss was reassurance, and the second was an apology for whatever would happen tonight behind the closed doors of your bedroom once he said his goodbyes. You kissed his knuckles again, and realized you needed to kiss his hands until the day you died to make up for your sins; past and future.

Was it possible to let a good man come between you and another good man? If so, well, what did that make you?

#kirietownwrites #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent x reader #dc x reader #superman fanfic #superman x reader #dc fanfic

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