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rebelliousstories · 11 days

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Vaultie

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @silverose365

Warnings: Angst, Strong Language, Fluff, Allusions to Cannibalism

Word Count: 2,119

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: If Cooper Howard had a nickel for every time he came across an escaped vault dweller looking to find her father and to change the world…

The sight of the blue Vault-Tec wandering through the Wasteland made The Ghoul let out a low growl. How many of these people were going to be popping up? He watched her wander around, trying to talk to some people, but they had just turned her away at the first sight of blue. She was not much different than the other Vaultie he had come across. Same kind of naive look in her eyes, along with hope. Hope was a commodity up here. Just as he was finishing up his last drink at the one bar within a hundred miles that would actually take his caps, this vault dweller strolled right on up to him.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you were interested in a trade.” She pitched, shoulders back and a determined look on her face.

“Sorry darlin’, not interested in a whore tonight.” Howard spoke with a low drawl. He got great joy of seeing the appalled look on the vault girl’s face.

“Oh, I’m not a- that’s, that’s not what I was offering. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to this location. I have caps.” Pulling a piece of paper from her suit, she procured a pencil as well from a separate pouch. She put those items in one hand, and she wrestled with a bag on her hip that Cooper could hear the clanking of bottle caps coming from. The paper and pencil were set down in front of the ghoul, and she got her caps ready to give away. He grabbed the paper from the table and eyed her wearily as he read the address.

“Now what’s a vault dweller like you,” he gestured to her, “doing in a place like this,” motioning to their surroundings, “and looking for a place like this?” He finished by holding up the paper.

“I’m looking into Vault-Tec. The experiment they were running in my vault, it was barbaric to say the least. And when I found out things that I should not have, I escaped to here. The people down there, they don’t know any different than their life that has been played with and manipulated.” She explained, sitting down in the chair across from The Ghoul.

“Well, that is some might fine ideas. Afraid it won’t get you nowhere up here. Every few years, someone has a great idea to save the world. But it’s just a load of horseshit.” Cooper went on, fiddling with the paper in his hands.

“Look, I don’t particularly care about that. I’m on my own mission, and I need help to navigate this place. Now, what do you say? Fifty caps for directions on how to get there?” This Vaultie was testing his patience, but fifty caps is fifty caps. Without a word, Cooper wrote down on the piece of paper all the directions she would need. After that it was up to her to interpret and follow them.

“The caps?” He held out his hand while holding back the paper. Once the bottle caps were placed n his grasp, he counted them quickly, before handing over the paper and pencil to the Vaultie. But when she leaned in close, that is when he saw it. Words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.

“I didn’t catch your name, darlin’.” Cooper prompted, tugging back the paper at the last second before she could grasp it.

“I didn’t throw it. May I please have my paper and pencil back?” She tried one more time to swipe them, but Cooper was faster than she was.

“Be warned now. You go lookin’ into Vault-Tec, you probably not gonna like what you find. It’s a whole mess of an operation.” He stated, low and slow. There was something about this girl in front of him that he just could not put his finger on.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m going to find out what they’re doing, and expose them.” Finally, she was able to get her hands on the paper and pencil in his other hand. She stood from the table, and turned to to leave when something that Cooper said caught her attention.

“You never know who is gonna be the one behind the shitstorm. Could be someone close to you. I don’t think your mind can handle the truth once you find it out, Vaultie.” Her face was thick with confusion, and then it was full of fury.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think I can and can’t handle. And I don’t know what kind of grudge you hold against us, but I couldn’t really care less. Besides, you took my caps so surely you can’t hate me that much.” And with that, she made her way out of the bar, and into the sweltering day ahead.

Cooper sat in that bar for a good long while nursing his final drink. This vault dweller was certainly different than the previous one. She could hold her own but to what end? Surely, she was not going to last long in the Wasteland. Downing the rest of the liquor, he threw some caps on to the table, pocketed the rest and set out. It was not hard for him to find her; the tracks in the sand making it easy. But he kept a distance from her, and made sure she never knew he was there.

As they traveled, Cooper saw less and less of a vault dweller, and more of a surface dweller in her. The way she negotiated, carried herself, and overall acted; you would never be able to tell she came from a vault had it not been for that blue jumpsuit. He never intervened, always waiting on the sidelines. But he did keep an eye on this determined vault dweller. The scariest part of her journey was when they came across fiends.

“Hello, little lady. What are you doin’ out here?” A man leered at her, crowding her against the side of the building that Cooper had hid behind. He watched intently, waiting to see if he would need to intervene.

“I’m just passing through. Excuse me.” She tried to move past the man, but he shoved her back. Another fiend came around to crowd her in, and another, and another, and another. She was outnumbered five to one, and was looking around in a desperate attempt to find an opening. Cooper moved his duster back and had his hand on his pistol, ready to dispatch of these men. However, that thought made him pause. What was he doing following this girl on her journey? Maybe that other vault dweller was making him soft. No, it could not be.

“Oh, she’s got manners. That’s a real sweet thing to come out of your mouth. Hopefully the rest of you is that sweet.” The leader made a move to grab her, and Cooper was ready to draw his pistol when a shot rang out.

The lead fiend dropped to the ground dead. Her gun was still smoking, and she wasted no time in shooting the four other men who tried to touch her again. By the end, she was splattered with blood and breathing heavily. She began to loot through their bodies while Cooper moved further back in the shadows. He tried to make no noise, but a rock slipped from under his feet and made the Vaultie’s head whip around to where he was standing. There was a beat of silence, but she turned back to her task at hand when she did not hear anything else.

From then on, Cooper had no reason not to trust that she could handle herself. It had been so long that he had cared for anyone other than himself. The feeling was so foreign now, but it crept in without his say so. The unknowing duo walked for days and days, until finally their destination came into view. The broken, and abandoned building stood tall even with all thee destruction around it. She made her way in, but Cooper remained outside. The Ghoul found the shadiest spot alongside the building, and stopped for a rest and water.

The vault dweller began to look around the decrepit building, finding the floor where Vault-Tec records were held, and began to climb the stairs. There was nothing stopping her now; she could see the finish line. Once she was inside the Vault-Tec office, she Egan rifling through the files on the desks. What she found, astounded her.

Hundreds of vaults, and their subsequent experiments. The depth of human depravity never ceased to amaze her. While the description of her vault made her angry, the others made her blood boil. Human lives treated like lab rats in a sick and twisted experiment for society’s so called betterment. Stowing the files in her bag, she began to look around for information from before the vaults. Files detailing how they would get people down into those vaults that they created were littered about. But the more she read, the more the was enraged. However, there was one file that caught her attention.

Pages that described the bombings in great detail, dated hundreds of years ago. And she read through everyone. She was losing daylight, but she needed to read through everything. Her eyes scanned hundreds of words, and was trying to process everything when she finally go to the page that was used as the sign off sheets for the bombings. When she read the names of those who signed off, her heart dropped. The file slipped out of her hand, and there was no feeling left in her body.

Her father signed off on these bombs.

It took a while for the feeling to return to her limbs. When it finally all hit her, a scream tore through her vocal chords before she could stop it. All the pent up emotions and memories that now felt scarred; it was all coming out now. She calmed herself down, and snatched the file from the ground. As much as she hated it, she knew it was going to be important. There was no way around it if she wanted to help the people in the vaults.

Making her way back outside the building, the sunset ahead was painting the sky in a brilliant red with streaks of purple and orange. She went to turn the side of the building and was met with The Ghoul that had first helped her with the directions that led her here. He was leaning against the building, but was quick to stand up straight when he heard her round the corner. His undead heart broke just a little bit when he saw the broke look on her face. It was so different to the determined face that she held, even in the times that she should have been scared out of her wits.

“You alright there, Vaultie?” His tone was laced with concern that was not normal anymore. Cooper stepped closer, opened his arms, and brought her in close. She tried to fight, but her arms felt weak even to her as she tried to hit the ghoul before her. Her punches did not even make a dent in the man, but he let her get all of her frustration out before he knew the inevitable drop. And drop she did. Once her energy and anger were exhausted, her legs gave way and she collapsed in Cooper.

“Calm down there, darlin’. You’re alright now. The pain’ll go away soon.” He comforted the girl in his arms.

“Did you know?” She whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Yes.” He replied.

“I know it stings, darlin’. I warned you not to go lookin’. Knew you wouldn’t like what you found.” Howard continued, now stroking his gloved hand over her hair.

“But I needed to. I need to know what is going on. It’s so sheltered down there, and people are so naive. They deserve to know,” came her soft cry. It broke his heart even further apart.

“You’re doin’ a very selfless thing here. You’re gonna be alright though. Already survived bein’ up here for this long. You’ll make it up here Vaultie.” It was comforting to hear such kind words after being on the surface and away from home for so long.

All the girl did was nod into The Ghoul’s chest. She was going to be fine, and she was going to help the people in the vaults. Her mind was alright made up; she was no longer going to be a vault dweller and apart of their twisted system. She was now a surface dweller, and really needed to get rid of her jumpsuit.

#rebelliousstories #writing #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout imagine #fallout

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thesunisatangerine · 6 months

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part five

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, angst (i'm sorry)

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.2k

Today’s the day you were going to talk to Alexia about it.

You had about two weeks left of your additional three weeks and with each passing day, your stay in Barcelona was drawing to a close and Alexia knew it, too. During the period of time you’d gotten to know her to now, Alexia’d put in the same effort in trying to get to know what you did outside of sports photojournalism. You’d told her, of course, and even showed her photos of your previous photojournalistic coverage, although you’d kept the more graphic ones away from her.

Despite the fact that she had jokingly tried to convince you to stay in sports photojournalism, Alexia had been nothing but supportive of your job. The thing was, she just didn’t know yet what it was you’d be returning to: you just got word that you–among other colleagues–were bound to head over to a conflict zone in a region going through civil unrest and military aggression. But it wasn’t like the thought never crossed your mind.

Sports photography had been a welcome reprieve from the violence and depravity that came with human conflict, a typical scene to witness while on the field. And although unplanned, Alexia had played a part in your enjoyment with this side-project–so much so that it was on top of your list for alternative careers down the line. Be that as it may, you knew deep down that you wouldn’t trade your current career for anything else.

This was what you wanted to talk to Alexia about. Well… among other things but you wanted to ease her into the conversation with a home-cooked meal and a gift. Even though it was difficult to do with Alexia around, you were able to finish making the latter a few days ago. The gift was something similar to the one she gave you: a bracelet with the colors of the flag of your country and instead of a diamond, you used a small, silver, hollow rectangular charm to represent you and your camera. And with that dealt with, you only needed to grab the ingredients for the former which brought you out to Mercat del Centre on this fine Barcelona highnoon.

With paper bags of groceries in hand, you were thinking of grabbing something from that sushi place you’d passed on the way to the market but just as you turned the corner, you saw three women walking ahead a few paces away with their backs turned to you.

They were all wearing matching tank shirts, shorts, and ankle socks but the one with the cap stood out to you and instantly, you recognised it to be Alexia. Knowing that and from the Barcelona matches that you’d been to, you recognised that it was Mapi and Patri flanking her.

Excitement filled you immediately although you wondered for a second what they were doing there until you realised that Estadi Johan Cruyff was only a few blocks away. The instinct to call out Alexia’s name and reach out for her didn’t go unnoticed by you but you managed to stop yourself in time before you accidentally did.

The both of you never really talked about where the both of you stood and there was no clear label for the nature of your relationship. If someone had asked you this when you just met her over two months ago, the answer would’ve been clear; it was merely physical with a dose of infatuation. Now, it was more than just sex to you: you wanted her in every possible way, you wanted to know and to be known by her, you wanted to be the person she’d tell about the most mundane of things to–to be the person she’d allow to fall for her because you already know you were on the brink of falling. So apart from your job situation, this question was the other half of the conversation you wanted to have with her.

Though you meant to go to the same direction, you didn’t want to risk Alexia noticing you not because you didn’t want her to or that you were afraid she’d ignore you–no, you just didn’t want to accidentally interrupt her time with her teammates. She’d come to you later anyway so you’d just tell her about this then. You were just about to turn around when something in their conversation got your attention.

“So, Ale, are you dating that photographer?” Patri asked, her question oozed of mischief.

“What photographer?” Alexia replied with a flat tone.

Mapi snickered. “You’re too smart to play dumb and when you do it on purpose you just sound stupid.”

For that, she got a punch to the shoulder from Alexia but Mapi only giggled.

“Fine, fine. And, no, I’m not.”

“Oh, come on, Ale! If she’s not, then why does she always take the best photos of you? Right, Patri?” Mapi whined.

“Exactly! Oh, remember those matches when you weren’t even on the pitch? And the way she always looks at you after a match? I’d say that’s something!” Then as if she just had an epiphany, Patri’s eyes widened, hand clapping over her opened mouth. “Wait! Unless…”

Patri didn’t even need to finish her sentence, her suggestive tone was enough to communicate what she meant by it and your ears burnt at the implication.

“Oh, shit. Are you, you know?” Mapi exclaimed, finally catching on, eyes just as wide as Patri’s.

“Keep your voices down, assholes,” Alexia growled in annoyance then she grumbled something you couldn’t quite hear. In response, the other two women just laughed.

“Love you, too, Cap,” Mapi said in a saccharine tone.

Alexia sighed. “Okay. Yes. Are you happy now?”

The other two women hooted and patted Alexia on the back.

“Ha! I knew it!” Patri exclaimed.

“Do you like her though?” Mapi’s question stilled your breath as you anticipated Alexia’s answer.

“No,” Alexia shook her head and she shrugged. “She means nothing to me.”

“Ouch! Not even considering dating?”

“I can’t deal with that right now.”

“Damn… So does that mean she’s one of your girls, then? And here I thought you finally stopped.”

“I’m not even going to answer that.”

You didn’t hear anything after that. Alexia’s words rooted you to the spot and you watched as the three of them walked on.

She means nothing to me. She’s one of your girls. She means nothing to me. She’s…

Those same words echoed in your mind in a ruthless cycle but what stuck to you the most was the way Alexia said them. You’d never heard her that cold… that detached. Your hands shook, a chill ran up your spine and you shivered while the world blurred in front of you.

You brought a hand to your eyes and felt warm tears on your fingers.

Oh.

And without even asking you got the answer to your question.

––––––

The moment Alexia stepped foot into the house that night, you grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket and pulled her down for a searing kiss. She gasped in surprise as you pushed her against the door and you took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, your fingers now tangled in her hair while your front was pressed firmly against her.

It wasn’t enough.

You bit and tugged her lower lip before you nipped a path along her jaw down to the base of her throat where you sucked at her pulse point. Her muscles responded and rippled beneath your palms when you traced their lines along her sides and stomach under her shirt while Alexia gasped and moaned from your touch.

It wasn’t enough.

By the time the both of you reached the bed, you’d stripped Alexia off her clothes. She landed on her back on the bed when you pushed her, gasping as she did so, and you immediately crawled on top of her. Wasting no time, you sucked and marked the expanse of skin in front of you: her neck, her chest, her breasts, her stomach. You nipped and bit as Alexia writhed and keened beneath you.

It wasn’t enough.

When you felt her large hands along your sides trying to tug the hem of your shirt to strip it off you, you grabbed her wrists and pinned them on either side of her head–a rejection to her offer, one that you never thought you’d do around Alexia. But just the thought of being completely naked made you shudder, and not in a good way. So you pressed a bare leg against her core to distract her to which Alexia keenly responded to by arching against you while her wetness burnt like a brand against your skin there.

It wasn’t enough.

When Alexia cried out your name while your fingers worked deep in her core, neck straining and muscles tensing, the pit in your chest only seemed to yawn wider and dug deeper.

It wasn’t enough.

When Alexia clung to you as she dozed off with her soft breath caressing your clothed stomach, tears burnt in the corners of your eyes as you watched her glow in her slumber, so peaceful and beautiful. Emotions bubbled in the base of your throat, a string of words coiled themselves tighter around your tongue, but something else burnt in your throat that you found difficult to swallow.

In your desperation to get closer–to make Alexia forget about whoever else that she was sleeping with–you’d used sex as a tool for possession not for intimacy, and the streak of shame that that knowledge left behind pained you more than you could ever thought it could. You weren’t like this. This wasn’t a person you wanted to become, especially when it came with Alexia.

But… you wanted more.

You wanted so much more.

But wasn’t this what you already convinced yourself of? Deep down, you knew all too well that this was too good to be true–too good of a love to be yours.

You brushed away a lock of blonde hair from Alexia’s temple, admiring the strong slope of her nose, the fierce slant of her eyebrows, the gentle curves of her eyelids, the elegant bow of her lips. You soaked as much of her as you could because this would be the last time you’d be able to see her like this.

It was a blur, the journey back from the marketplace to the house earlier today, and your mind was a cacophony of words but a single thought was in clarity: you needed to leave. So the moment you got back, you did two things: you emailed Derek and booked your flight home.

There were no details included in the email you sent to your brother as to why you were coming back early–it was extremely unprofessional but an apology was the only thing you could come up with. You’d never not seen a project through to the end no matter the circumstance but this was different; you felt as though you were more equipped to navigate mortal peril than this dance with Alexia so leaving was the only option.

Tomorrow at midnight, you’d be gone, two weeks ahead of schedule. You didn’t know if Alexia would get here tomorrow before you depart but that was a question for then. For now, you would allow yourself to savour this moment when Alexia was still right here beside you for the final time.

You brought one of her hand to your lips and pressed a light kiss against her knuckles.

A line from a poem fleeted through your mind.

these, our bodies, possessed by light

––––––

Everything was already packed by the time early evening came and even though the caretaker was scheduled to come early tomorrow, you made a point to check around for anything important you might have forgotten and to ensure you’d sufficiently tidied up after yourself. Finally satisfied, you went downstairs and just after you ordered an Uber to take you to the airport, a knock came to the door and the door handle turned.

Shit.

“Hey, the door’s unlocked! Look, I didn’t know what you wanted to eat since you didn’t text me back so I just grabbed us some–”

Alexia’s voice floated into the room and as she passed through the doorway with her bag of takeaways in one hand, she stopped in her tracks as she saw you and your luggage. Then her face turned cloudy, concern and a question in her eyes.

Her hair was still damp, cheeks still flushed from training, and you longed to reach out to tuck that loose hair behind her ear but instead, you clenched your fists at your sides as you watched her mouth open a few times before she seemed to finally settle on what to say.

“Is… everything alright?” She regarded your luggage for a moment longer before she met your eyes again.

“Yes.”

It was only one word but your voice trembled nonetheless, and you hated that it did. Alexia’d must have heard something in your tone because her brows furrowed even further as understanding began to seep in.

“You’re–” Alexia’s throat bobbed, “you’re leaving now?”

“Yes.”

As each second passed, you could see the way Alexia’s walls began to climb.

“You said it’s not until after two weeks–”

“I lied.”

At that, the remaining warmth in her eyes flitted away and left her hazel eyes flat and cold. Then she scoffed, hurt clear in her voice when she asked, “were you even planning to say goodbye?”

A heavy silence settled in the air; an answer in and of itself. You could feel the distance between the both of you widen as the moment stretched on, the air so thick from tension it hurt to even breathe. Then a notification from your phone disrupted the quiet and it gave you an excuse to divert your eyes from Alexia’s.

Your Uber just arrived. You sent the driver a quick message to wait, that you’d pay them for the time, before you faced the music again. Clearing your throat, you moved to get the paper bag addressed to ‘Ale’ from the counter–the one you originally planned to leave by the door once you’d left–then you stood just out of arm’s reach from Alexia and offered her the bag.

“Before I forget, here.”

Alexia’s eyes bore into yours before she eventually dragged them down to the bag in your hand. She placed the takeaways beside her feet before she grabbed the bag in your hand, her fingertips brushed against the skin of your knuckles and you fought the urge to flinch away.

You watched as she peered inside and you bit your lip as you hoped she wouldn’t see the pictures and the letters you wrote; it was bad enough she got here before you left to begin with, how much worse could this get if she saw them in front of you. Oh, how you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Once she stuck her hand inside to grab something, you held your breath. Then you saw the way her jaws worked at what she found inside. She lifted it enough for you to catch a glimpse of it over the edge of the bag: blue and scarlet, her Barcelona jersey.

Alexia sucked in a breath, ragged, before she breathed out with a trembling voice. “Oh.”

“I did promise I was going to return it.”

She looked up at you, her eyes now glazed over and you were sure with the way your eyes burnt that yours were just as red.

“Why?”

There were so many ways you could answer her question, the words because I could fall in love with you were poised at the tip of your tongue but you bit it off before they could slip out and leave you more vulnerable than you already were.

“Because… it was fun while it lasted. No strings attached, right?” The words sounded so cruel to you and immediately, you wanted to take them back. To reduce those moments with her and the memories that were now permanently a part of you to a passing fling felt abysmally wrong. You wanted nothing more than to step into her embrace, to tell her how much she’d come to mean to you, to tell her that you could fall for her if she’d just let you… but you never really had a chance did you? You knew that now and you couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t want more.

Alexia’s jaw worked again as her chin quivered, her tongue skimmed over the corner of her lips, a habit you noticed she did when she was upset–whenever she wanted to stop herself from crying.

“Is this it, then?” She whispered the question and at that, a tear fell down your cheek.

“I guess it is.”

And in the silence that followed, as if guided by an invisible force, your hand began to reach out for Alexia but your presence of mind came back to you and you quickly retracted it. Instead, you grabbed your two bags and began to head out the door. You passed by her and you were already a few steps away when you heard Alexia speak.

“Will I ever see you again?”

You knew she knew the answer to it; you knew she wanted you to say otherwise.

You didn’t turn back when you said, “goodbye, Alexia. Take care of yourself.”

––––––

The flight back home was nothing short of a fever dream: one minute you were at Barcelona-El Prat Airport nursing your head in one of the bathroom stalls as you cried, the next your plane was touching down at your home country’s landing strip.

Derek was there to pick you up and he looked like he was about to bombard you with questions but upon seeing the state of you, his gaze softened, brows furrowing in concern and there–in place of your business partner from a moment ago–was your brother.

He pulled you into a tight hug and you closed your eyes revelling in his comforting scent while you willed yourself not to cry. Although his arms brought solace to your aching heart, the ones you longed to hold you belonged to someone who was a thousand miles away.

Over the next few days following your arrival, you ignored everything and went off the grid, deleting the social media apps on your phone lest the temptations would convince you to check how Alexia was doing. So instead, you busied yourself with catching up with your mother and your friends, and buried yourself with work while Derek hovered in the background, protective and concerned but respectfully giving you time to come around and tell him what happened.

You told yourself you would–that it could wait a little longer. But you never got around to it because the next thing you knew, you, Gilda, and Jones were on air to the conflict zone for journalistic coverage. Once your plane landed, the current malaise from your personal life seemed infinitesimal for it was nothing compared to the afflictive catastrophe of war.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: im so sorry #also an extra round of apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes for this one #hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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themorningsunshine · 1 year

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Muffins

Pie - eyed over you - Chapter 3

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder, lots of fluff (gotta give the fluff before the angst for it to hurt more, yup I am evil), Steve and Sam being a menace

Word count - around 6k

a/n - So, after two delays, hell a lot of editing, and straight up changing the whole structure of this chapter and then combining it with another (hence the length), it’s finally here. Thank you so much to all of you for putting up with me. Please let me know what you guys think about this. Your kind words keep me going.

You placed the muffins in a tray for display before making a note in your diary to buy more chocolate chips when you go to the market on the weekend.

Running a bakery all on your own is a difficult job but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Even though you were not a morning person, the prospect of coming here and baking made it getting up from the bed every morning a tad bit easier.

As you heard knocks on the door, you frowned before looking up, there was still some time left before it was time to open up the bakery.

But when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside the door, looking like a complete misfit in his dark clothes and sunglasses and surprisingly, a baseball cap covering his forehead, a pathetic attempt at being discreet, you can't help the way your lips turn upward and your heart flutters.

He was here just yesterday and yet it felt like you were seeing him after too long.

Get yourself together.

It's just a crush, it'll go away.

You wiped your palms on your apron before walking towards the door to open it.

You gave him a teasing smile before saying, "You're at the wrong place. Baseball convention is another mile from here."

He rolled his eyes before stepping inside the bakery, bending a little, the door a little too short for him. "Hello to you too, sweets."

You chuckled before walking towards the counter as he took his usual seat. Everything felt like a routine. Engraved in your soul as if it had always been there.

"Gracing this bakery with your presence two days in a row. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Maybe I just missed my sweets." He shrugged as if it was obvious.

"Continue this and you are going to get diabetic." You remarked with a smirk.

"Not the sweets I was talking about, but okay."

The smirk immediately left your lips as you could practically feel your heart beat out of your chest. He didn't mean it. He's just teasing.

But no matter what you think, you can't help the way the red color crept up to your neck at his words.

Okay, this crush is getting out of hand.

"So, how's work?" You say in an attempt to change the topic.

He tenses at your words. You had asked him what he did, and he had replied that he was a mechanic. It was becoming more difficult for him to lie to you.

But maybe, he won't have to much longer.

He was pretty sure Walker was on his way to screw things up.

That son of a -

"Earth to James!!" Your voice moving and your palm waving in front of his face brought him out of his thoughts.

"I asked how was work." You said with a frown. James always got weirdly uncomfortable when you asked about work. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but you were no one to ask.

"Oh, it's been fine. You know, the usual."

"Yeah, yeah. Steve is a dorky idiot and Sam is an annoying prick. I know." You said imitating the words he had said to you not a long time ago.

Bucky chuckles. Telling you about Steve and Sam was easier. Maybe sharing something about him which wasn't a lie, made him feel less guilty.

He knew this was wrong.

He was creating a web of lies that you will find out one day.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man and he would take whatever time he has got before the inevitable happened.

Which wasn't going to be today.

He wasn't going to let Walker ruin this.

He will just sit there, hiding half of his face with the baseball cap. It would be easy. It wasn't like Walker would expect to see him here anyways.

He was just here to make sure that he didn't hurt you.

The both of you striked a conversation just like usual and you immediately felt better. You knew it was going to be a great day. Had started off on the best possible note, atleast.

The clock striked eight before you knew it and you got up from your chair to flip the sign at the bakery.

"Why don't you hire someone to help you?" James asks, sipping his coffee.

"Why, you're looking for a job?" You teased him with raised eyebrows. "Job at the garage doesn't pay enough for your baseball conventions?"

He rolled his eyes. "When are you gonna let this one go?"

"I think… never."

He chuckled before asking again, "But, seriously, sweets, why not get a helping hand?"

" 'Cause I am selfish." When he narrowed his eyes, you continued. "I know this sounds weird, but I don't like it when anybody else cooks the food. It's just never good enough."

"So, why not hire someone to deal with the customers?"

"That's literally the best part of the job." You half exclaimed. "People telling you whether they liked the sweets or not is the best part, James. Almost as good as getting to eat all the leftovers."

James chuckled before setting his coffee mug down. "There is no pleasing you."

You shrugged before walking behind the counter to get everything ready for the morning rush you were sure was about to walk through the door any moment now.

When a few people came in, some regular customers and some students hoping to get in some caffeine to start the day, you saw as James involuntarily tensed.

Bucky watched the front door with focused eyes as minutes ticked by. He knew Walker will be here any minute now.

And he was proven right as he saw John Walker opening the door of the bakery and walking in with a smug look on his face, shoving away whoever came in his path.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull him out of here, away from you and this warm place but he couldn't do that. There would be consequences, which he normally wouldn't give a second thought to, but the real nuisance would bring questions.

He watched as you greet him with the same grin on your face that you used for all your customers, saying in a soft voice, "Hey, what can I get you?" And Bucky can swear Walker doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you.

"Why not start by paying off?" Walker said with a tone harsh and loud enough that a few customers turned to see what was happening.

You frowned your eyes in confusion, "I am sorry." You were still speaking in a calm, soft voice, trying your best to get whoever this man was to calm down. You didn't want a commotion so early in the day.

"Walker." He said as if it was enough of an introduction before continuing, "And I think you have an idea of where I am coming from. You owe us."

James watched as realization dawned on your face and you stood straighter, your smile turning into a forwn. "I don't owe anyone anything."

He leaned towards you, keeping his arms crossed on the counter, speaking with a smirk, "Don't try to act smart, baby doll. Pay up and no one gets hurt."

He watches as you cringe at the nickname and almost take a small step back, discomfort clear on your face.

Bucky almost gets up from his chair, his first instinct to slit off Walker's throat with the knife he had tucked in his jacket. He would make it less messy too, but painful.

Control, he isn't going to hurt her.

"I am not going to pay you a single cent, Walker. So, why don't you take your ass out of my bakery and leave me alone?" As you speak, your hand inches towards the knife that you keep below the counter for situations like these. Even though you hoped you'd never have to use it, it was better to be prepared than sorry.

John clenches his fist as his eyes bore into your skull, "Don't make this difficult. You don't know who you are trying to mess up with. The people I work with wouldn't blink an eye before dumping your body in a dumpster. Just pay every month and we leave you alone."

"I have said it before and I'll say it again, I am not going to pay you to let me live." It's as if something switches inside you. The slight fear or discomfort that could be seen in your features is completely gone now.

Bucky watches as Walker growls in impatience before reaching for his jacket pocket.

Nope, not happening

"Listen to me, you little bitch - "

Walker is cut off immediately when a larger figure stands between him and the counter.

James shields you from him, obstructing his view.

"Leave her alone." The sound is almost a growl. And if Walker hadn't been too preoccupied he would have noticed how familiar that sounded.

"And who the hell are you?" He spat.

Bucky looks down at him and watches as all the color is drained out of his face when he recognises him.

"S - si "

"Leave her alone and if you show up around here ever again, it will be you in the dumpster, cut into more pieces than you can count."

Fear is obvious on Walker's face, as he completely forgets the weapon he was reaching for, trying to get his senses to work, confusion evident on his face.

Before he can ask any questions, Bucky takes a step towards him, with sheer coldness in his eyes as if he could slit Walker's throat right now and wouldn't blink.

You watch as the man - who had introduced himself as Walker- saunters out of the bakery with quick steps.

You frowned your eyes at whatever had happened here.

You weren't going to pay the mob any money, you knew that. But you also knew that you couldn't have overpowered that man, especially if he had a weapon hidden under there somewhere.

"You didn't have to do that, James." You said softly, in an attempt to get his attention away from the door he was boring holes in.

He turned back and you watched as his expression turned into the soft one you were so familiar with.

You walked from behind the counter towards where he was standing before explaining, "He works for the mob. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with them."

Bucky's breath hitches at that. How could he explain to you that he wasn't just involved with the mob?

"It's okay, sweets. They won't hurt me." That was some truth. They were never going to hurt him, and before Walker could utter a single word to anyone about the events of the day, he would be fired. Bucky would make sure of that.

"I know." You sighed, looking down at the floor as if contemplating something. It was silent for a moment before you looked up, "Thank you, James. It does mean a lot to me." You said with a soft, grateful smile on your face and your hand reached out to his.

"Anytime, sweets."

A moment passed before anyone of you dared to move. Your hand was now brushing his arm in slight touches.

You broke the silence, "Come on, have some muffins. They are on me." You said before turning back and walking towards the counter.

Bucky had to stand there for a moment because his skin had suddenly started to feel cold and empty. Like it wasn't enough without your touch, before walking back towards the counter and standing right in front of where you were taking out some muffins on a plate.

"So, Ms Feisty, something against the mob?" He said, trying desperately for his voice to sound joking.

You shrugged while passing the muffins to him and turning to pour some coffee for yourself. "I am not going to pay them money just because everybody else does. Why the hell do I pay taxes?"

"But the way you were standing, you don't just want to rebel, sweets. You hate them." He said, an emotion in his voice you couldn't really place. He prayed that that wasn't the case, that he had read the situation wrong and maybe you didn't really hate the mob.

"Hate is a strong word, James. I - despise them." You reply before looking up at him to meet his eyes, but he looks away, almost as if looking at you right now would physically hurt him.

"I mean, they aren't really that bad, right? It's not like I know a lot about them but I have heard they protect the city." He tries.

"Uh-huh. They are not good people. You remember that day when we met? When it was raining and I had lost my way, and you were there - "

"I remember the day we met, sweets." He interrupts. Every part of that day was engraved in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah right. So, that day I was coming back from a friend's house. She has a daughter, Ellie, about 5 years old."

He hums, nodding his head, not sure where you were going with this.

"Both of them were switching houses. Leaving their home, that they had built, to live in a one bedroom apartment in the not so respected area of the town. You know why?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Because her dad was killed." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from bubbling up to the surface. "A 5 year old lost her father, James. And why? Because of some stupid mob feud."

"What was her dad's name?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Jake"

Bucky's moments halted as images came back to his mind's forefront. He had killed that man himself. Shot three bullets straight into his chest. He had felt no remorse then. That man was a traitor. Had joined hands with the enemy, knowing very well what the consequences could be.

He had felt no remorse then because he hadn't given a moment of thought to the people he might be leaving behind. It made his work easier. Pretending that there were no consequences to whatever they did.

But now he could see the consequences. In the form of rage in your eyes at the tale and the hurt he felt in his chest, thinking about the girl. He knew how that felt. Being alone, and helpless.

"She didn't deserve that. None of them did. Nobody deserves to lose somebody they love, James. But it hits the worst when it's unforeseeable. When the people who did it are out there in the world, as if their hands aren't tainted with blood, living their life and you can do nothing about it." You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. Thinking about your friend and Elliot always brought you to tears. You tried to help them as much as you could, but there was only so much you could do.

Bucky looks into your eyes and sees tears in the corner of your eyes. He wants to hold your hand, to comfort you, to tell you that they are going to be fine. But how could he, when his were the hands that were tainted with blood, that had taken the life of that man without a second thought.

So, he just sits there, listening to you talk about the lady and her kid, even though each of your words is like a sword stabbed through his chest.

When he knows you are fine, he takes his leave, bidding you goodbye before walking out and calling Steve.

"Steve, I need you to do something."

"What's up, Buck? Everything okay?" Steve replied in a concerned voice. Even after everything, his concern for his best friend never faded.

"I am sending you some details of a lady and her kid. Send me the contacts of the person who bought their house."

"Give me half an hour. But who are these people?"

"They are going to be our responsibility, Steve."

He cuts the call and sends a quick text with all the details he might need.

He can't help but turn back towards the bakery to have one last look. He has made up his mind. He was going to tell you the truth.

he didn't care if it meant you would hate him. There were many people in the town who despised him, what's one more?

But when he turns back and his eyes land up on you, handing a cup of coffee to a middle aged lady, talking to her with a softness unique to you.

As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn towards the window and as your eyes meet, your smile grows wider. A smile that's only reserved for him, he realizes.

And he would have hated himself for how quickly his resolve fades away.

But Bucky Barnes was not a good man.

And maybe many people in this world did hate him, but he would be damned if you were one of them.

He wanted this. The weekly bakery visits, the warmth, the sheer simplicity of it all, even if it was all this was ever going to be.

And it was about damn time he got what he wanted.

Why should he apologize for the monster he has become when no one ever apologized for making him this way?

Maybe, one day you'll find out the truth and hate him more for lying to you, but it wasn't going to be anytime soon. He will make sure of that.

So, he straightens his coat and walks away from the bakery, choosing to not pay any mind to the inevitable doom that could leave the both of you shattered.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*

"James Buchanan Barnes"

He turns back from what he is doing to find you, cross armed, shooting daggers at him.

"How could you, James? It's like you're not even trying."

He can't help the smile that finds its way to his lips at the way you look. Your christmas sweater that you had deemed "perfect" for the occasion and a scarf draped loosely on your neck, trying to look intimidating, just makes you look even cuter.

You walk towards him and take the candy decoration from his hand, to place it exactly just an inch away from where he was going to, because it looked in your exact words, "more festive"

Bucky just smiles at you as he watches you ramble more about Christmas decorations.

When a week ago, he had heard you reminding Pietro that he had to come over to help you decorate, he had stepped in and offered his help. He was free that day anyways, he had told you. There was an international shipment that he had to sign off that day, but that could wait.

When Pietro had shaken his hand and thanked him for 'saving him', he didn't understand, but now he did. You were extremely particular about how each and everything had to look for christmas and was not shy to tell the other person what a terrible job they were doing if it wasn't exactly the way you had wanted.

But if the cute pout on your face and the warmth that it caused in his chest was any indication, it was worth it. The cookies whose smell reached him even in the living room was just an added bonus.

Right now, standing in the middle of your apartment, surrounded by incomplete decorations that signaled the arrival of a festival he wouldn't have cared the slightest about a year ago, being scolded by you for not hanging the canes correctly, he regretted nothing.

3 hours and a lot of debates later, all of which you won, the house was finally decorated enough for the festival.

"Here you go." You said, handing him a warm cup of coffee and placing a plate full of cookies on the table in front of him. It was your way of saying thank you.

Bucky looks around your apartment. It's just above the bakery and much smaller than the mansion he lived in. But it felt different in a way he couldn't point out.

A shelf filled to the brim with books standing in the corner, pictures adorning the walls, each telling a different story. Some soft music playing on the speaker, it was like a blanket of warmth stood over your house. A little messy, but beautiful nonetheless.

His eyes then land on you, sitting across from him on the sofa, sipping your coffee with a warm, content look on your face, your scarf now lying on the table.

As if you could feel his gaze, you turn back to look at him and your breath hitches in the throat at the way he is looking at you.

It's as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't blink an eye.

You can't get yourself to look away. So, you just raise your eyebrows, because you have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and if he didn't look away right now, you are not sure you will be able to survive longer.

He just shrugs and turns towards his coffee, as if it was a natural occurrence. As if your whole world hadn't stopped spinning for a moment there.

Bucky looks at you through the corner of his eyes and watches as red color creeps up to your neck and you try your hardest to not smile.

He now recognises the feeling.

Your apartment feels like home.

And the next realization brings with itself questions and doubts he wasn't ready to answer.

He wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩

He clenches his fist as he drags his feet towards the bakery.

It was pretty late. He knew that.

But he just had to be there.

He liked his work more often than not. The impending guilt and the danger aside, the reason that had initially brought him to this world still stood.

It made him feel something. The adrenaline of each task, the satisfaction of seeing everything that belonged to his enemies burning down till there was nothing but smoke.

The mafia world had welcomed the darkness that he had inside of him and made him one of their own, for which he will be eternally grateful.

But for some time now, it hasn't been enough.

The darkness that had surrounded and consumed him for so many years now was suddenly not enough.

Something inside him changed.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had thought twice before shooting that man today. The whispers inside him that asked him every time 'if there was any other way' had become louder now and even the noise of the bullets couldn't silence it.

He knew what was happening.

He was seeking the light.

And every single part of him knew that this could only end in disaster. In a fire that threatened to burn every single thing to the last piece.

But that didn't stop him from taking the next step. Or the one after that.

He was still walking to the one place that could silence away his thoughts and make it all go away. Like a moth attracted to a flame.

Maybe this was selfish of him. Maybe he was tainting you with his darkness.

He will think about that some other day.

When the bakery comes into view, he realizes just how late it is.

You would be about to close now.

Maybe he could catch a glimpse before you retired for the night. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. But it had to do.

As he reaches the bakery, he watches as the door slowly opens and a young boy steps out.

He frowns before walking ahead, and his eyes almost widen with who he sees.

"Peter, what are you doing here?"

Peter looks up from the book he is currently holding and his eyes widen with fear at the figure who stands before him.

"S - sir, I - I was just - "

A voice from inside the bakery calls out to him. A voice Bucky recognizes all too well.

"Peter, you forgot this."

You step out of the bakery with a textbook in your hands as you hand it over to Peter.

Peter opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. Too afraid about what was going to happen.

You turn around and when your eyes land on James, your lips turn into a grin before you know it.

"James, hi"

Peter's eyebrows shoot up as he looks between the both of you. You have a glint in your eyes as if you couldn't be happier by anything else and the man he had feared with everything he had for the last couple of years, had a softness to his features that made Peter wonder if he was somehow swallowed into an alternate dimension.

"Hey, sweets." Bucky says almost on instinct, before turning towards the boy who is still looking at the both of them as if he just saw a dolphin flying in the air.

You probably notice it too, because you then point towards Peter before saying, "James, this is Peter, and Peter, this is James Barnes."

"James?" Peter says almost on instinct, confusion evident in his voice.

"Wait, you know him?" You ask, looking between the both of them now.

Peter looks at Bucky and almost crumbles with fear by the warning glare he is shooting towards him. But there is something else there too. Something, he can swear he has never seen in the mob boss' eyes.

There is fear in them. A tiny flicker of it. He fears the answer he is going to tell you. Whatever it was, it was too important for him.

"No, no. I don't think we have met before."

"Oh, okay." You say, confused as to what had just happened here. "All the best for the test and tell MJ I said hi," You give him an easy exit from a situation he was clearly uncomfortable in.

You watch as a small blush spreads across his cheeks before he bids you goodbye and glancing at James once, takes his leave.

"He is a nice kid." You break the silence after Peter walks away, out of earshot. "Pretty smart. I was helping him with his test tomorrow."

Bucky looks back at you and shrugs in response. "Good for him."

"By the way, it's closing time, James." You say with a teasing voice and he is relieved that you don't ask any further questions.

"Come on, sweets. You could make an exception for your favorite customer."

You roll your eyes before replying. "What about this? You help me clean up, and I get you something special I made today."

"Help you clean up?"

"Aww. The prince doesn't like to get his hands all dirty?" You smirk.

"This special treat should better be worth it, sweets." He huffs before walking inside the bakery.

You walk in behind him while giggling.

"And that's it."

You look at him with a smile and silently clap your hands together with an impressed look.

If any of his men would see him right now, wearing an apron with a bunny on it, hands covered in flour, working in a bakery with soft music playing in the background, their eyes would pop out of their heads. But he couldn't care less.

"Great job for a first timer, Barnes. You have earned yourself a serving of something special."

Bucky smirked before replying, "Something special, you say?" He leans in and sends a wink your way.

You roll your eyes before turning towards the kitchen, hoping that it wasn't evident how flustered you were.

You take out something from a box and place it on a plate in front of him.

Bucky looked at it closely with a frown. It was clearly made of chocolate and was shaped like a dome. He could swear he had never seen it in your bakery before.

"Come on, give it a try. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it ages ago."

He picks up one and after a moment of close inspection, takes a bite.

As the taste of chocolate invades his senses, he moans and puts the whole into his mouth.

You watch as his head falls back in delight.

Once he is done, which is faster than he would have wanted, he says, "Sweets, that was the best damn thing I have ever had."

You chuckle, "You say that every single time, James."

"And I mean it every single time."

You just smile at him before putting another on the plate.

As he devours that one quickly too, he inquires, "What is it called?"

You smirk before replying, "James."

"Yeah?"

"James. That's what it is called."

His eyes widen and he takes a moment to reply, "You named a sweet after me?"

"Well, technically, you were the inspiration for this."

He frowns. "How so?"

"Well, It's full of chocolate and exceptionally sweet. It's exterior is hard but its insides are so soft, they practically melt in your mouth."

Bucky looks at you, baffled and you look away, unable to meet his eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something, but is suddenly shushed by you.

"That's my favorite song." You whisper, as if not wanting to obstruct the soft melody.

Bucky listens to the sound coming from your phone.

Wise men say

"Only fools rush in"

But I can't help

Falling in love with you

He looks back at you and at the way you have a soft smile on your face, your features highlighted by the soft glow of the kitchen light.

You look at him and with a teasing smile puts your hand forward, indicating to him to take it.

He looks between your outstretched hand and your face with a frown.

"Dance with me." Your voice is so soft, he just can't get himself to say no. But, who is kidding? He will set the whole world on fire and watch it burn with a smile on his face if you asked him to.

He slowly places his hand in yours as the music continues.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help

Falling in love with you

The both of you stand in the middle of the kitchen, the moonlight sweeping its way through the windows.

Everything is brightened in a warm glow but you know nothing will ever shine brighter than the way his ocean blue eyes do right now.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

One of his arms finds its way around your waist while the other holds yours.

You place your free hand on his shoulder and he gently pulls you closer.

The both of you stay like that for the rest of the song, swaying slowly to the music.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You don't know who leans first but before you know it, the distance between the both of you starts decreasing.

You hold your breath and your gaze move from his eyes to his lips.

You would be lying if you said you had never thought of this before, of how his lips would feel against yours, how he would taste like.

This man had occupied your thoughts since the day you had met all those months ago and you were pretty sure he had no idea of the effect he had on you.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

Just as the song is about to end and there's nothing but an inch of distance between the both of you, the door to the bakery was suddenly pushed open with a force and the sound of the bells invaded the comfortable silence that had covered the room in a blanket.

The both of you took a sudden step away, and you needed a moment to calm your heart which felt like it was about to beat its way out of your chest, before looking up to see who it. was.

You squinted as two men, one blonde and the other dark haired, stood at the door, looking comically too big, having no idea of what transcribed in the bakery before they had not-so-smoothly barged in.

The blonde one speaks, breaking the silence, "I knew we'd find you here."

You watch as he steps towards James, who looks at him with sheer annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, punk?"

The other man looks at you and forms a smirk before stepping towards you. "So, this is where you always sneak off to? I guess I understand why."

James huffs in annoyance and with a sten face stops him, "Shut up, Wilson."

You look between the men who looked like they were in a staring contest when realization hit you. "Steve and Sam?"

All the men look at you at the same time and you feel like a deer caught in headlights before you stand up straighter reminding yourself that no matter how intimidating the situation was, this was your bakery.

"And you must be y/n l/n. It's great to finally meet you, Ms l/n" Steve says, smiling.

"Please, just call me y/n."

"Or we could call you beautiful." Sam replies before stepping forwards, stretching his hand to take yours for a shake.

You let out a chuckle before shaking his hand. "Y/n is fine."

"What are the both of you doing here?" Bucky speaks up, shooting daggers at Sam, his fists clenched.

"There's an emergency. We need to go." Steve replies, a serious expression adorning his face.

Sam interjects them "What's the hurry? I have heard so much about this bakery. We could eat something before leaving."

Bucky spats at him, "This bakery has closed, Wilson. Time's up. Get your butt moving."

Sam pouts and you chuckle at the antics of these grown men, "Why don't you come here some other day, Sam, I have something that I think you'll like."

Sam looks at you, a childlike smile replacing his pout, "I like her already."

Bucky steps forward towards Sam, pulling him away. "Don't listen to him, sweets."

Steve and Sam turn their head towards him so fast. you are sure they will get a sprain later. Sam raises his brows with a smirk on his face, while Steve looks at him with a smile on his.

James then quickly bids you goodbye before pulling the both of them outside the bakery.

Once they reach the car Steve and Sam had driven in, they both look at him with amused grins.

"Back off, the both of you. What's the emergency?"

Steve's expression turns serious as he replies, "Our shipment from Iran has been stopped at Morocco and they are refusing to comply."

Bucky narrows his eyes at the information. Who would dare to stop their shipment and risk getting on his bad books? "Who is it, Steve?"

"It's Alexander Pierce."

Bucky lets out a breath before looking in the direction of the bakery once more and then turning towards Steve and Sam.

"Get in the car. We need to leave right now. This is going to be a long assignment."

Next part

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sunkissed-zegras · 22 days

Text

✧.*NHL MASTERLIST !

♡ fluff ✪ angst ✧ suggestive

𝐀𝐔'𝐒

⇨ delicate | jack hughes x singer!fem!oc

⇨ jump then fall | single!dad adam fantilli x nanny!oc au

⇨ zegras' have more fun | zegras!sister au, luke/jack hughes x fem!oc

𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦 𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬

⇨ trevor zegras¹¹

soft launch ♡ instagram!au | y/n soft launches her and trev's relationship. |

friends (with benefits) ✪♡✧ | trevor had always hated your guts. you never knew what for, maybe it was your close friendship with his best friend, or maybe it was because he was jealous of you. that was until, he kissed you, of course. |

sloppy kisses ✧ | request: "CONSENSUAL recording with Trevor because they’re long distance? 🩶 " |

⇨ jamie drysdale⁶

butterflies ♡ | no one has ever made you feel the way jamie did. every day, jamie convinces you more and more that he loves you in different ways. |

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬

⇨ adam fantilli¹¹

lets compare hands! ✧ | adam fantilli with a size kink |

⇨ kent johnson⁹¹

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐣𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬

⇨ jack hughes⁸⁶

everyone wants you, but i don't like a gold rush ✪✧ | y/n had always been in love with jack since she was a kid, but he had always chosen everyone else but her. |

in losing grip, on sinking ships, you showed up just in time ♡ | when you and jack had parted ways, somehow you both knew you'd meet again somehow. |

⇨ luke hughes⁴³

betty ✪ | a small incident at luke's draft party causes a whole lot of drama you never expected to happen. |

worst (best) first "date" [requested] ♡ | request: kind of have a specific request 🫣 im an ohio state fan so it also kinda pains me that i love luke hughes since i hate umich 😭 my request is reader being an osu student and long term devils fan, so when she goes to a devils game in columbus her friends dare her to make a sign for luke during warm ups that says something along the lines of “can i trade you a hat for a puck?” so when luke gives her a puck, she throws him an ohio state hat w her phone number on it. and he finds it really funny and actually ends up messaging her (and then you can end it how you want. fluff, smut, wtv) thank you <33 |

stress reduction [requested] ✧ | request: "shower s-x with luke hughes help" |

⇨ nico hischier¹³

olive theory ♡ | you and nico have only been dating for 6 months but both of you are convinced you've found the one, and a certain theory proves you right. |

𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬

⇨ quinn hughes⁴³

you are in love ♡ | 3 times that quinn wanted to tell you he loved you, and the 1 time he finally did. |

cowboy like me ✪ | you and quinn were destined to fail from the beginning. |

the big C [requested] ✧ | "quinn hughes x equipment manager reader smut? maybe it’s the start of the season so the reader is helping him get all his gear fitted and situated and she’s calling him “cap” and “captain” and he ends up feeling some type of way" |

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬

⇨ andrei svechnikov³⁷

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supercap2319 · 2 months

Text

"Not that it matters or anything, but Peter and I were wondering who's the top in your relationship? I mean, no offense, Steve, but have you seen Mr. Barnes's metal arm? Like....shivers." Y/N said to the two super-soldiers.

Steve and Bucky trade looks before smirking. "None taken. Bucky's always been the one knows charge. Not that I mind. You're right, Y/N. His metal arm is great. Especially his fingers."

"What about you, Doll? Who dominates in the bedroom between you and Peter?" Bucky asked.

"Depends. There are times when Peter acts like the cheapest, sluttiest whore on the street, pardon my language, Cap. Other times, he likes to tug on your hair and fuck you senseless against the wall with webs." Y/N smiled.

"Maybe you'll let us see it sometime." Steve smiled.

"Sure. We'll show you our tricks if you show yours."

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #peter parker x male reader #peter parker #tom holland x male reader #tom holland #stucky x peter x male reader #stucky x male reader #stucky #steve x bucky #chris evans #sebastian stan #captain america #winter soldier #spideman

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tightjeansjavi · 4 months

Text

Catfish | Chapter 1

🫧Filet O’Frankie🫧

A/N: this is my first ever Frankie fic and while I’m excited, I’m also a little nervous since I have never written for him before 😭 be prepared for lot of corny ocean/fish innuendo’s and Frankie being an ass because why would he just admit to the reader that he’s attracted to her? Nah, that would be too easy!

~word count: 3.0k~

Summary: a fisherman walks into a bar..you again with the damn umbrellas in his drink.

Pairing | fisherman!Frankie Morales x bartender f!reader

Warnings: fluff ,teasing, banter, reader has thoughts of jealousy and feelings of insecurity, language, sexual tension, mutual pining, implied smut (not with the reader) mentions of alcohol, ouid, mean!frankie, grumpy!frankie, is really just a big ole softy!frankie, close proximity, no fish fingers..I swear, no age gap, readers nickname is Starfish, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni

A fisherman walks into a bar..you again with the damn umbrellas in his drink.

You’ve been working at the town bar right along the harbor where fishermen and tourists would parade down the wooden docks like a flock of seagulls.

Instead of throwing yourself head first into figuring out your career after graduating with your masters in publishing, you decided to take a year off and return to your roots. You grew up in this little beach town, and it would always be your home.

Then there was him; Frankie Morales. A local fisherman that you used to attend highschool with..except, you lived in two completely different worlds. Frankie’s parents owned a small fishing business that Frankie attended to. And once his father could no longer hold down the business on his own, Frankie took over the business entirely.

Now, here’s where your two worlds finally meet. The bar you work at? It’s owned by your parents who gratefully hired you to be a bartender. The catch? (literally). Frankie gets drinks and food on the house simply for the fact that he supplies fish to the bar. It’s a fair trade, and even though he frowns upon some of the trendier menu items, business is good so he really has no room to complain.

Unless..that complaint is directly rooted back to you.

Frankie Morales can’t stand you, and those stupid little multi-colored umbrellas that you insistently put in his beer, every. Goddamn. Time.

Other than those stupid little umbrellas, you’re an alright person. Pretty, bubbly, chatty with everyone that crosses paths with you. Your infectious energy can be described to be similar to a Golden Retriever or a Husky. Whereas for Frankie? Well, he’d agree that he has black cat energy, and not an ounce of Golden. (You’d beg to disagree).

Sure, he’s a bit offstandish, mean at times, but man, is he handsome. Handsome to the point where you want to giggle and kick your feet anytime you see him. He’s mean, but you can’t help the way that you feel. Maybe he’s so grumpy all the time because he’s out at sea from morning to evening, and he smells a bit, well, fishy.

You remind me of a starfish. He said completely out of the blue on one particularly hot summer day while you were pouring his first beer after a long day out at sea. Just down the dock, the water was glistening under the bright sunlight, shimmering like a million diamonds.

Because they’re pretty? You set his glass down between his hands where they were resting along the bartop. Before he could take a sip, you placed a hot pink umbrella stick into his glass.

He grumbled, like he always did, before he adjusted his usual baseball cap on his mess of curls. Sometimes you wondered if he ever washed that damn hat.

No. Not because they’re pretty, but because they suction themselves to everything. He said casually while gingerly plucking the umbrella from his glass and tossing it to the side.

You glare at him while you feel your heart clench inwards like a tight fist. “Well, if I’m a Starfish, then I’m going to start calling you..Fish Filet.”

His brow raises in mock amusement at your little nickname for him. “Fish Filet?” He scoffs, “how original.”

You want to stomp your foot and tell him that he’s really being an ass, but that voice inside of your head reminds you to refrain from stooping to his level. “It’s either that, or Catfish. So, I suggest you pick one, Morales.” You quip.

He grimaces as soon as the words “Catfish” leave your lips. His face scrunches inwards like he has just gotten a taste of something sour, revolting. You can’t see his deep brown eyes as they’re hidden from your view by his sunglasses, but you imagine he’s glaring at you now too. “Do not call me Catfish ever. Call me Fish Filet or whatever, but not Catfish.” His words are firm, straight to the point as he brings the rim of his glass to his lips and takes a large sip.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Fish Filet.” your middle finger slowly rises upwards, but before it can be fully extended, he reaches over the bartop and swiftly interjects with his hand.

His palm is warm, and albeit, a tad sweaty, but that doesn’t stop the sparks from shooting up through your arm from his sudden contact.

He says nothing, scoffs, assumably rolls his eyes before he retracts his hand.

He’s so mean, but your heart skips a beat whenever he’s near.

“I don’t get what you see in him honestly. Sure, he’s a good looking guy, but he’s such fucking dick to you during every interaction i’ve seen.” Your coworker, and close friend says to you while fixing up another drink. It’s happy hour at the bar and the tourists are in full swing tonight.

You laugh, because you know she’s right, why continuously bat your lashes at a man who wants nothing to do with you? Is it the chase that excites you? The coursing adrenaline firing through your veins. The close proximity?

There was that one time that you believed Frankie almost was attracted to you. It was during a little beach bash that ended up with you and a few friends making a drunk decision to skinny dip in the ocean. You caught Frankie trying to inconspicuously sneak a peek, but you caught him in the act, and you had never seen a man’s face turn so red.

“Yeah, he’s mean, he’s an asshole.” You agree, “but, June, look at him. He’s a dreamboat, literally. I think he’s just a big fat grump all the time because he’s forgetting to wear his sunscreen, and he faintly smells of fish. I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty pissed if I kept getting nasty sunburns and smelled..fishy.”

You know that Juniper is just looking out for your well-being and just wants the best for you. But she just can’t seem to grasp why you were so attracted to a man who seemed like he could frankly give two-shits about you, and your existence in his life.

“I wouldn’t exactly call Frankie Morales a dreamboat in my books, but I just think you’re a total catch, and any guy would be lucky to just breathe the same air as you.” Juniper said while she expertly lifted a tray of freshly made shots to deliver to her table.

When she walks away, that's when you notice the devil himself with another tourist who’s wrapped tightly around his finger like a worm on a fishing wire. Frankie doesn’t have to try very hard to get his dick wet practically every night. He just has to smile, run his fingers through his curls, and look in their direction before they’re ensnared. You used to think he was like a shark, swimming in the depths of the ocean, targeting his prey when they least expect it. But now, he reminded you of a Barracuda. Calculated, precise, and almost always successful in his ‘hunts.’

You never considered yourself to be jealous in nature. Not even in past friendships or fizzled out relationships with mediocre guys that you spent your college days with. These feelings didn’t begin to breach the surface until Frankie Fucking Morales showed up on your radar

Your fist clenched tightly around the little paper umbrella in your grasp while you watched Frankie work his magic. He made a point to freshen up before heading to the bar. He’s wearing a clean shirt, and that same stupid baseball cap. His jeans fit snugly on his waist and thighs. What you wouldn’t give to slip your hands into the stitched back pockets of his jeans.

He leans in close, whispering something into the female tourist's ear that elicits her to throw her head back a little and giggle. Her hand slides up the expanse of his chest where he’s left two buttons purposely undone for this exact reason.

You can see the sliver of exposed skin glistening under the fairy lights strung along one of the wooden beams. His skin is tanned, bronzed, and you imagine dragging your tongue between his pecs, tasting the tang of the sea, and of him all in one swipe.

His hand rests along the lower back of the woman, fingers sliding down further to rest along the curve of her ass. She’s wearing a flowy sundress, one that you’ve seen in a boutique in town. She looks beautiful, and even though you know you shouldn’t compare yourself to others, you can’t help but feel like you look frumpy next to this stranger.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the scene that is unfolding in front of you even if you tried. It reminds you of the feeling while watching a really bad movie or tv show, and feeling like you probably should stop, but the small part of you is dying to know what happens next. You watch closely as he leans in, lips brushing the shell of the woman’s ear in a teasing fashion. You wonder if he popped in a few breath mints, and spritzed on some cologne. You were so used to him wearing the sea on his skin, that it was hard to picture him smelling any different.

Wanna get out of here, beautiful?

She nods, and he reels her in, just like he did with the last one, and the one before that. He was the enticing bait on a hook, and they were the unsuspecting, curious fish that just had to go in for a taste.

You hear his warm laughter that echoes through the hot summer night air as he entwines his fingers through the woman’s hand and leads her to the bartop with nothing short of enthusiasm in his step.

“Evening, Starfish. Mind hooking up my lady friend and I here with a couple shots of tequila?” He’s dropped her hand now and rests his bare tanned elbow along the sea glass countertop. His other arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. His small grin is enticing, tantalizing and sending the butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach. On the outside, you remain calm, collected, and professional.

“Good evening, Fish Filet. Sure, you want salt and lime on the side as well?” You smile politely at him and his catch of the evening.

“Fish Filet?” The woman giggles, dragging her nails across his bicep as she leans into his strong grip around her waist. “Is that your nickname, Frankie?”

He chuckles, ignoring her for a moment to focus all of his attention on you while he pulls out a five dollar bill and places it in the tip jar. “Salt and lime on the side as well. Thank you, Starfish.”

He usually never bothers to tip you, and it’s not expected given the arrangement, but you think that maybe he’s just doing it all for show so that his lady friend believes him to be a chivalrous man.

“You got it, Catfish.” You shoot him a wink before he even has the chance to open his mouth to spit something back.

Your face heats up at the realization of what you just called him while you turn your back swiftly and grab the nearest bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

Yeah, dollface. It’s my nickname because y’know, I’m a fisherman. He’s leaned in close again that the woman can feel his hot breath fanning her cheeks and parted lips.

Well, you don’t smell like a fisherman, Frankie.

His hand moves from her waist and slowly ascends upwards, drifting across her exposed cleavage before settling at the base of her throat, feeling her pulsepoint quicken and jump from his lingering touch. He presses a hidden kiss to the spot where the base of her ear connects with her jaw. His patchy, uneven beard tickles her skin as she lurches forward for even closer contact.

No, I don’t. He agrees, But I fuck like one.

Her knees nearly buckle in on themselves from the tone of his voice and the way that every word drips from his lips like warm, sticky, sugary sweet, syrup.

“Two shots of tequila on the house.” You announce, breaking through the building, palpable tension like a hot knife on a pad of butter. You can hear the sizzling sound now.

“Thanks, Starfish. You wanna take one too?” He offers, knowing that you’ll decline his invitation.

“Can’t drink on the job, Frankie.” You think about saying thank you, but for what? You don’t really owe him that either.

He shrugs, unfazed by your immediate choice to decline him as he returns his attention back to the woman beside him.

“You ever taken a tequila shot before, cariño? Goes down nice and smooth with a bit of salt and lime.” He slides the shot glass of shelf Tequila to her with ease while he grabs the two lime wedges and the salt shaker.

“No, I'm afraid I've been taking tequila shots wrong this entire time.” She might be lying, but you can’t really tell just based on her tone.

“That’s alright, beautiful.” He reassures her. “I’ll show ya how to do it properly.” He licks the back of his left hand before sprinkling a bit of salt on it. “Licking the salt before you take the shot really minimizes the burn on its way down.” He explains.

“Care to do the honors?” She asks while holding her hand out towards him.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the scene playing out in front of you, but that would give yourself away. And you’d be damned if Frankie ever knew how you really felt, so you busied yourself with wiping down the same glasses you had cleaned off earlier in the evening.

In your peripheral you see Frankie drag his tongue across the back of her left hand, his eyes flit upwards towards her face so she can get a mental image of exactly what he’ll look like when his face is buried between her thighs–

He pours a trail of salt granules on the outside of her hand and his own. “Now, we lick the salt, cariño, then immediately take the shot, and finish with the lime. It really brings the flavor of the tequila out.” He grabs his own shot glass and lightly taps it with hers before he licks the back of his hand, throws the shot down his throat, and grabs the lime wedge. He sucks the citrus juice from the fruit expertly just as she’s taking her own shot. Before she reaches for her own lime wedge, his hand drops to her waist, pulling her flush against his chest before he kisses her deeply. She’s surprised, but eager as her arms loop around his neck in the heated kiss. She can taste the salt, tequila and the lime juice on his tongue as he licks greedily into her mouth.

Get a fucking room, Morales. You say to yourself internally. The jealousy burns deep and is stoked at with a hot iron that scorches your insides.

That’s how a real man kisses, and I'll never know what it's like.

He pulls away from the bruising kiss just for a lick of air. His lips are slightly swollen, and now coated in a light pink shimmer from her pretty lipgloss. Her fingers are toying with curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him back in for another kiss. “I see what you mean about the salt and lime now, Frankie.” She purrs.

His eyes meet yours across the bartop, brow raised as he waits to see if this will be the night that you finally snap and show him that his attraction to you hasn’t gone blindly unnoticed. That maybe you’ll stop him from taking this woman back to his boat, stop him from fucking her till her legs shake, and the only name she’ll remember on her vacation is his; Frankie Morales, the fisherman. Whereas come morning, she’ll be gone, and he won’t even remember her name, just like the rest of them.

Instead, you stand there, eyes meeting him in an even-toned gaze. There’s no indication given on how you feel towards him, or that you wish it was you he was taking back to his boat. You simply smile, give him a small nod before you return to wiping down the glasses.

Only when his back is turned towards you, and you hear the scraping of the bar stool, and the light jingling of his keys being pulled from his pocket does your face finally fall, and your mask loses its place like loosened strings on a violin that hasn’t been properly tuned in a very, very long time.

His arm stays wrapped around his catch of the night as he leads her down the dock where his boat is gently bobbing with the evening current. He kisses her again, calloused hands from tugging coarse rope, and fastening fishing lines, now bunches up the fabric of her dress in a haste.

Through the open window at the stern of his ship, you can hear her breathy high-pitched moans, and his deeper, more prominent groans as he drills his hips into her pelvis over and over again, imagining it was you instead.

It’s an hour past closing time for the bar when his catch of the night finally stumbles from his boat, heels clutched in one hand as she wobbles up the dock. She’s close enough that you can see her face, and her wild mess of hair and swollen lips, and that post-fuck glow to her skin as she passes by you without a glance.

Frankie emerges minutes later, shirtless, boxers hung low on his lips, baseball cap on his mess of curls. In one hand he holds a cheap beer, and in the other, a joint and a lighter held between his middle and forefinger. He sits along the bow of his boat, sparks up the joint, before he lays on his back and gazes up at the starry night sky longingly.

banners made by the lovely @saradika

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#fic: Catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #frankie morales angst #francisco morales #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales au #pedro pascal characters #mean!frankie morales #fisherman!frankie #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader

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saintmuses · 3 months

Text

❝𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨, 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚𝙣❞

Pairing:

Thomas Shelby x Michael’s Wife!Reader

Summary:

Y/N couldn’t stand Thomas Shelby, she could see him for what he was. A devil in disguise despite her heart went pitter patter with lust rushing in her veins whenever she saw him.

Warning(s): SMUT. Mentions of religion. Infidelity. P in V. Deaths. Slight possessive!Thomas. Minors, dni! Note: Y/N’s maiden name was Buchanan.

Word Count: 2k

Summer, 1930

She wanted to press the nuzzle of the hand rifle gun to his smooth forehead hidden by his peaky cap. She wanted to pressurize the cool metal to its skin until it caved to mold around the circular imprint.

She wanted to pull her index finger backwards until there was an echoing sound of the bullet going straight through his brain. She would've loved to see the blood splatter all over his three pieces suit and a white collared buttoned shirt as he fell backwards until he was no more.

Thomas Shelby.

A businessman who was a member of parliament with decorated military history from the Great War, and her family-in-law who was and always had been a gangster dabbling in illegal trades.

Her red painted lips curled back in disgust, before the edge of the cigarette laid between, and she closed her lips around it to inhale the tobacco.

Something was not right with him. Even if he was the best businessman, the leader of Peaky Blinders in Birmingham where they live, even if he was attractive.

Something was odd about him.

She noticed his eyes flickered to her as he stood by a couple coming into their seventies, conversing with them.

Her heart thrummed loudly when his gaze trailed down to her lips that held the cigarette.

Her lips curled into a form of a smirk when his pupils dilated enough to take over his blue irises.

She'd never admit to anyone but herself that she loved his icy eyes.

Her fingers pulled the thin rolled tobacco filled paper away from her mouth as she inhaled enough to fill her lungs before pushing the excess out into thick humidity air while she stared at him in return.

"Honey," a voice clear its throat behind her. She could see Thomas’ eyes narrowing at the presence behind her, and she nearly chuckled at the sight of his jaw clenching enough to see tendons straining against his skin of his neck.

What a lovely sight. She thought haughtily before turning her head to see her husband, Michael standing near her, hands in his pockets.

"Yes, dear?" She knew Thomas had issues with his cousin ever since he came back across the pond with her in tow.

His dark eyes flickered to her before jerking his head towards the door of the car a good amount of distance, "it's time to go."

"I will get in the car after I talk to Thomas," she turned her gaze to the driver's seat with a pointed look. Her husband's face flushed with acknowledgment before he nodded stiffly, then walked away.

Outside, he held all the power to their dynamic, but behind the closed doors, she had all the power in her hands, and her husband could have all the whores and snow he wanted as long as he was respectful towards her in their marriage.

Quite frankly, she did not give a damn.

She waited until the sounds of her husband's footsteps shuffling against the tall spineless grasses faded, then she turned around just in time to see Thomas sauntering over to her.

"It is a good afternoon, is it not?" He looked down at her with a smirk gracing upon his face. His voice was sinful, with a hint of accent as it rolled over certain letters.

The top row of teeth scraped the bottom lip of hers, enough to ignite a sting of pain in the flesh. Irritated, "yes. I enjoyed the...lecture you gave about how we need to be discreet. After all, you are a mastermind of deluding people into thinking you are just a politician." She all but snarled at him, flicking an unfinished cigarette in the grass, ashes still burning.

His tongue slipped out, lightly wetting the bottom lip of his. "Miss Buchanan," his voice purred softly at her maiden name, "I am not a mastermind." His eyes held amusement as he spoke a false truth they both know it was a lie.

"Mrs. Gray." She corrected him flatly. She didn't even want to know how he found her maiden name when she and her husband moved to England from the Empire state of New York a year ago. She was still irritated as she withdrew a fresh stick of tobacco from her purse, holding the filter to her lips as she lit the end with her metal pocket lighter.

He waved it off, snatching the burning cigarette from her fingers with his leather gloved fingers before she could inhale the cigarette, "it’s the all the same to me."

She was pissed at his lack of etiquettes.

Once a thief boy, always will be a thief man. She thought to herself.

"I will be watching you," her upper lip curled, revealing the threat as she stared up at him coldly. "You better not do anything...out of the line."

She found out she was the only one who could talk to him like that and got away with it as well.

His eyes flashed in return, not with anger but with pure unadulterated lust. Dear God, something unraveled in her stomach at the sight of the animalistic feral look in his gaze, just like the first time she saw him a year ago, and he was already watching her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said lowly, his voice rasped after he exhaled the smoke from the cigarette before she glared at him and turned her body to walk away.

"'Y/N-"

"If you're going to fuck a whore, then go ahead." She sighed as if she was tired. Sitting at the kitchen table, looking at her husband with a small smile. "You do not need to hide your infidelities from me." She said shrugging with indifference, observing the way he stared at her, unblinkingly before he reached for the door handle, nodding slightly before stepping out of their place.

She never loved Michael. Well, not in that way, but they only married to hide his shenanigans in the states especially when he held onto the stocks when the economy collapsed, and quite frankly, she wanted to leave that godforsaken city in America. Away from her father who loved her but was smothering her, and away from her mother who was unfaithful towards her father by messing around with men whose pockets were filled with banknotes.

She blinked when she heard the door shut.

I wouldn't dream of it.

It’s the all the same to me.

Maybe she'd fuck him out of her system then she would be able to see him clearer rather than an attractive man with an aura of danger surrounding him.

They were all going to hell, every single one of them. She just didn't care for the technicalities.

She moved her husband's heavy coat out of the way, only to flinch when there was a loud clang of metal hitting the wooden floor.

She glanced down to see a small hand rifle, and her heart stuttered at the sight of it lying there so innocently before bending down to reach for it.

She stared down at the small metal weapon in her pale palm as she stood back up, her fingers gripping the wood as if her life depended on it. In a way it was, but only for the others.

She inhaled before opening the front door, grabbing her purse along the way, stepping out in the light drizzle as the sky started to roll in heavy blue.

The sound of the door slamming behind her brought the sound of the echo of the bullet she would aim.

The Cross that was hanging on the wall, shook violently against the plaster as she threw her head back in the darkened room.

"You're going to Hell." She gasped the words out of her mouth.

Her hips were tightly holding onto the body of Thomas who had his fingers digging into the walls. He was physically stronger than her by anatomy differences, but she was relatively small.

"And I will be dragging you down with me," he groaned breathlessly into her ear as his hips swiveled into her. Giving her a knowing look, and her blood froze. She sincerely hoped he did not know what she was planning to do.

"Oh God." She gasped into the air as the blood rushed through in her veins when he gave her a bruising thrust.

"You said my name wrong, sweetheart." He rumbled before pulling her away from the wall with his hands wrapped around the curve of her legs to keep her against him.

He walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the wooden bench and stumbled onto it. Y/N already curled her fingers into his hair, pulling as she pushed her hips in a downward movement onto his cock.

"Just like that," he grunted, gripping her hips and she could feel how tight his fingers were pressing against her skin.

She gasped, throwing her head back as his lips latched onto her throat.

"Mine," he rumbled into the curve of her neck.

She nodded empathetically, "yours." She agreed. In twenty-seven years of her life, she wandered through life like a ghost. As if she wasn't there. Thomas was the only one who made her feel something.

It was also filled with regret that she had every intention to kill him. Like him, she did a little digging of his past, and found a lot of atrocities she could not let it pass or forgive.

"I wanted you ever since you showed up with Michael introducing you as his wife, and when you looked at me for the first time...I knew you saw something," he groaned, looking at her as his hips pushed upwards into her, "saw right through me as if I was an open book for you to see the sins I've committed. That's when I knew I had to have you." He gripped the grooves of her back through her shirt. "Unlike the others who were charmed by my façade, you just knew before I was introduced to you." He rumbled before withdrawing away from her neck.

She swallowed inaudibly, inhaling the heady but addicting scent of his as her eyes rolled back into her head when he'd hit a certain spot in her.

It wasn't love. It was lust filled with affection for him. The monster hiding in a sheep's clothing.

It wasn't pretty.

Her eyes then flickered to her fallen purse, with the moonlight casting through the arched windows, the metal glinted under the bright light.

Her walls clenched in response, and she noticed his thrusting patterns became irregular. She then reached over to her purse without distracting him, and quietly drew the gun out of the crack of her purse.

Before he could turn his head, she pressed her lips to his. His fingers tightened even more in response as his lips caved and melded with hers in a passionate frenzy.

"In another life, if we'd met under different circumstances, I would've loved you." She whispered into his mouth, and she heard him exhale onto her lips. "We would've been each other's."

Before he could thrust into her for the final time, she sneaked the gun between them, and when he got to the ending with a guttural groan, she pulled the trigger as she barely laid the nuzzle in front of his heart.

Flinching when there was a bang echoed in the empty space of the church.

She then gasped in pain, pulling back from his face to look down to see a lone knife laying in his hand, with red liquid seeping onto his hands and trousers, but she knew what he did. She could see it in her sight, blood pooling around the clean but ripped hole of her dress shirt where her heart was at.

She was in shock, turning her gaze back to his eyes. A mischievous but all-knowing look glinted in his icy depths. Her hand shook as she dropped the weapon. It clattered on the wooden pew next to them.

"Oh, I knew all about your plan to kill me. I could see it in your eyes." He smirked, his voice strained, and his blood staining the spaces in his teeth as the red liquid gurgled in his lungs. "I was going to let you, but I was not going to go down without takin’ you with me."

It wasn't love. It was lust, and it wasn't pretty.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby smut #cillian murphy

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onlyonetifosi · 11 months

Text

The sun shone brightly as Y/N and Max prepared for the momentous race. Max had spent countless hours teaching Liam and Luca the tricks of the trade, instilling in them the determination and drive to succeed. The twins eagerly put on their racing suits, beaming with anticipation. Today was not only their race day but also their birthday, and YN wanted it to be extra special.

As they arrived at the karting circuit, their friends and family were waiting with eager smiles and cheerful birthday wishes. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the familiar scent of burning rubber and the sound of engines revving in the distance.

"Good luck, boys," YN said, giving each of them a reassuring hug. "Remember to have fun and enjoy yourselves."

Max joined them, his eyes reflecting pride and anticipation. "Happy birthday, my little champions," he said, tousling their hair. "Make this race one to remember."

YN watched with pride as her twin boys, Liam and Luca, prepared for their championship race, the young boys had inherited their father's talent and passion for racing, following in the footsteps of their F1 World Champion dad, Max Verstappen.

The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as the race began, Liam and Luca, driving their sleek Red Bull-branded go-karts, skillfully maneuvered through the track, displaying remarkable talent and a competitive spirit worthy of their father's legacy. The crowd watched in awe as the young racers fought for every inch of the circuit. YN nervously clutched her hands together, her eyes never leaving the track. She couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension as her boys maneuvered their karts expertly, showcasing their skill and determination.

Y/N stood on the sidelines, cheering for her boys, her heart filled with pride. Max, wearing his trademark Red Bull Racing cap, stood beside her, his eyes gleaming with a mix of joy and nervousness. He knew his sons had the potential to conquer the race, but he also understood the unpredictable nature of motorsport.

As the race progressed, Liam and Luca displayed their innate talent, battling it out fiercely on the circuit. The crowd erupted with cheers and applause as the young drivers skillfully overtook their competitors. The twins' eyes sparkled with the joy of racing, fully absorbed in their own world of speed and adrenaline.

Time seemed to stretch as the race reached its climax. Liam and Luca were neck and neck, battling for the lead. With each passing lap, their skills became more apparent. They were destined for greatness, just like their father.

Finally, the checkered flag waved, and Liam crossed the finish line in first place, followed closely by Luca in second. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, recognizing the incredible talent displayed by the Verstappen twins.

YN's heart swelled with pride as she rushed towards her boys, embracing them tightly. "Happy birthday, my champions! You've made us all so proud," she exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down her face.

As the boys climbed out of their karts, they were greeted by their father, Max Verstappen. A wide smile adorned his face as he scooped his sons into a warm embrace. "I knew you could do it, boys! This victory is the best birthday present you could ever ask for," he said, his eyes gleaming with pride.

After a moment of celebration, YN led the twins toward a surprise waiting for them in the paddock. As they turned the corner, their eyes widened in amazement. Balloons, streamers, and a beautifully decorated table adorned with a Red Bull-themed cake filled their view. A chorus of "Happy Birthday" erupted from their friends and family, who had gathered to celebrate their special day.

A Red Bull-themed cake took center stage, capturing the essence of their family's racing heritage. Max smiled, his heart brimming with pride. He knew his boys deserved to be celebrated.

Following the cake cutting, Max surprised Liam and Luca with a shower of gifts. Customized helmets adorned with their names, the latest racing toys, brand-new game consoles—each gift more extravagant than the last.

However, as YN watched the boys unwrap gift after gift, a mix of gratitude and concern welled up within her. She approached Max, gently taking him aside. "Max, I appreciate your love and generosity, but this is a lot. I worry that they might become spoiled," she expressed, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Max smiled affectionately, placing a hand on YN's shoulder. "YN, my love, these boys are my everything. They're talented, hardworking, and deserving of every bit of joy and celebration. What good is all this success if we can't share it with our loved ones? I want to give them the world because they are my world."

YN's eyes softened, understanding her husband's perspective. She took a moment to absorb his words and then nodded, a warm smile forming on her lips. "You're right, Max. These boys are incredible, and they deserve the world. I'm grateful to be on this journey with you."

They rejoined the celebration, surrounded by the love and laughter of their family and friends. In that moment, YN realized that their racing dreams, birthday surprises, and heartfelt gestures were a testament to the bond they all shared, a bond that no amount of gifts could replace.

This are the inspiration for the cakes i got :)

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #max verstappen fanfic #dad!max verstappen #max verstappen #formula one x reader

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

Text

Wide Open Spaces

Travis takes you on the annual Kelce family camping trip, your first opportunity to make a good impression with his family, or so you think

Dedicated to @princessmermaid1289 for their birthday!

"I don't think you're putting it together right, Travis." You flipped the white instruction pamphlet around in your hands, squinting your eyes at the diagrams on the page.

"Let me see this." Travis stepped out of the nylon tent, dragging it along the ground with him as he stood up. You passed him the paper, giggling to yourself as you watched the gears turn in his head to no avail. He let out a frustrated huff, throwing the posts down on the ground.

"Travis was never good at the whole reading instructions thing." Jason walked into the campground, placing his and Kylie's bags with the rest of the provisions. "Come to think about it, he's never been good with reading either." Travis flipped Jason the middle finger, earning a hearty chuckle from his older brother. Kylie filed in behind her husband, struggling to hold the cooler in her arms.

"Here, let me help you, Kylie." You shuffled over to grab one end of the plastic container, helping her place it atop the picnic table.

"How is she holding up?" Jason asked Travis just above a whisper, once you were out of earshot. Travis removed his baseball cap, wiping the sweat from his brow. "So far so good."

It started a couple of years ago. Things were going really good for Travis in pretty much every area of his life except dating. He was at the top of his game in football, and his popularity garnered him many a endorsement and brand collaboration. It also meant that women flocked to him in a way they had never before, and he wasn't sure who he could trust, and who was in it for the potential money and fame that came with dating him.

Jason suggested a test, a way to see if the girl was really interested in Travis for who he was and not what he could provide for them. They each were invited on the camping trip for the weekend, and Travis and Jason would put up bets to see how long they could last.

At first it was just some silly competition between brothers, but they quickly realized that it was a solid way to see who was in it for the long haul.

Travis was really hoping you passed the test this weekend. He was head over heels in love with you, and he really saw a future together.

****

You finally got the tent up just as the sun started to set, a cool breeze moving through the campsite. You slipped on one of Travis' hoodies before heading over to the picnic table to help Kylie with dinner prep. Travis and Jason already had a couple of beers in them, the cans collecting by the fire pit as they traded some funny childhood stories.

"Y/N, did Travis ever tell you how he wet the bed until he was 12 years old?" Jason hiccuped as he downed the last sip of his IPA, crushing the can in his hand. You could make out Travis's blush of embarrassment through the haze of dusk. "Oh my god, I stopped when I was like nine!" You let out a belly laugh as you cut up a few carrots. "You say that like its so much better." Jason continued to joke at his brother's expense.

"Why don't the two of you go get us some more firewood?", Kylie suggested, earning a loud groan from the two men. "Let's go man. I gotta take a piss anyway." Travis walked into the woods, Jason stumbling behind him.

****

Kylie looked up at you from her spot, giving you a gentle smile. The two of you had gotten really close over the last couple of months, and you considered her a friend. "Are you having a good time?" You nodded as you rubbed your arms, trying to warm yourself. "I am. I used to go camping all the time with my dad growing up, it was our own little tradition like what Travis and Jason have."

"I'm sure they didn't account for that." Kylie scrunches her eyebrows, letting out a quiet chuckle.

"Didn't account for what?", you asked.

She sighed, wiping her hands on her pant legs. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I really like you, and I think that you and Travis have something. This weekend is a test."

You shook your head, not completely understanding. "A test? What kind of test?"

"A test of your relationship", she continued, "see if you could handle roughing it. I had no idea at the time, but Jason put me through the same thing when we were dating." You felt your stomach drop, your throat drying up. You really cared about Travis, but you didn't think he needed you to prove it. Was he unsure about your relationship?

Kylie placed a hand over yours, offering you comfort. She could see the worry flash over your face. "I know its not what you were expecting, but I get why they do it. All the money and the fame comes with a lot of fake people. They really are good guys. I hope this doesn't make you hate Travis."

"Hate, no. But I am a little pissed." You admitted, letting out a humourless laugh. "I was expecting a relaxing weekend, and instead I find out my boyfriend is trying to test my character."

"If you're up for it. I think I have an idea of how we can give them a taste of their own medicine." You spent the next couple of minutes planning your revenge with Kylie.

****

The last embers from the fire were beginning to die down, exhaustion from the day starting to weigh on you.

"I think I'm going to head to bed." You yawned out, patting Travis on the shoulder as you passed him. "I think I'll join you."

"Actually, Kylie and I were thinking we'd share a tent, and you could bunk with your brother. Just for tonight, we realized we could use some girl time."

"Are you sure?" Travis grabbed your hand, stopping you before you reached the tent.

"Yes, good night." You gave him a quick peck on the lips before walking away.

Travis tossed around in his sleeping bag, groaning as he propped an arm behind his head. He had gotten maybe 10 minutes of sleep before Jason started snoring, a sound that rivaled a bear's growl. Shoving him in the side did nothing to stop the torment, only giving him a few seconds of silence before the snores started again.

The woods were silent aside from a rustling in the trees. Travis listened intently to the sounds around him, his eyelids slowly closing.

****

They shot open to a booming sound, as if something had fallen from the trees.

"Jason. Jason." Travis whispered aggressively, trying to wake his brother up. "What?" he finally groaned, scratching his stomach.

"Did we tie up the food? I think I hear a bear outside."

"Yeah, I made sure of it. There is no way a bear is gonna wander into our campsite. Go back to sleep", Jason remarked as he turned over.

The next sound was much louder, as if some branches had fallen.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason sat up, running his fingers through his hair.

"I thought it was NoThInG?" Travis mocked, sitting up as well. "My wife and your girlfriend are probably fighting for their lives right now in their tent, and you want to mock me?"

"I'm sure they're fine. Like you said, we tied up the food. It was probably just an owl or something." Travis searched for his phone as Jason got up. "I'm gonna go check on them." As he reached for the entrance zipper, the tent began to shake violently.

"I'm getting the fuck out of here!" The Kelce brothers hustled out of the tent, only to be met with a splash of water to the face. "Gotcha!" You billowed over in laughter, watching Travis try to catch his breath, his clothes drenched.

"What the hell was that for? We thought you were in trouble." Travis wrung out his t-shirt, "That wasn't funny, babe."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "No Travis, you know what's not funny? You inviting me here under the pretense that I was going to get to enjoy a weekend with you and your family, but really it was a test to see if I was a gold digger." You thought the whole situation didn't bother you, but as the words rolled off of your tongue, you realized you were truly hurt. Jason made eye contact with Kylie, mouthing 'what the hell' are her.

"She deserved to know, Jason. I really like her." Kylie shrugged her shoulders.

Travis took a step toward you. "Listen, baby, I can explain." You stopped him before he could lay a hand on you. "Just don't. I'm going back to bed, I'll see you all in the morning." You excused yourself from the group before Travis could get another word out.

****

You were wide awake for most of the night, running the last couple of months of your relationship with Travis through your mind, trying to pinpoint if there was ever a time when you had given the impression you wanted more from him than just him. Resolving that you weren't going to get any sleep, you got out of the tent, adjusting your eyes to the bright light of the morning. The campsite was empty, the sun barely visible over the horizon.

"Good morning", you jumped at the sound of Jason's voice, his hands full a tackle box and two fishing poles as he walked over to you. You stayed silent, kind of pissed at Travis' accomplice in all of this.

"Ah, the silent treatment. I know it well, Kylie gives it to me all the time." You let out a quiet chuckle at his joke, tight lipped otherwise. "There she is. I could use a partner for my fishing, makes the whole experience a lot less boring." Jason held up his tackle box, a proverbial white flag for his part in this weekend.

"Don't you think you should ask Travis?" Fishing really wasn't your forte, and you didn't think you'd be a good companion in your current mood.

"Uh, Travis, no. He's never been one for fishing. Besides, I think I owe you an apology for yesterday."

****

You sat on a rock while Jason set up your fishing pole for you, effortlessly flinging the line into the river before handing it to you. "I always said that if I wasn't in the NFL, I'd want to be one of those professional fishers. Just me, Winnie and Baloo on the water all day." Jason hummed as he casted his own line, leaning back on his forearms. You gave him a soft smile, pulling your arms into your sweater sleeves for warmth. You both sat in silence for a moment, listening to the water crash off the bank.

"My dad loves fishing, we used to spend pretty much every weekend either camping or fishing together. It was a big part of my childhood." You reeled your line in a bit when you thought you had bite, recasting when you realized you had just gotten caught on a branch.

"I had no idea." Jason adjusted his hat. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me." You let out a humorless laugh.

"You're right", he nodded, looking over at you. "And I owe you an apology. I really am sorry for misleading you this weekend. Travis has had his fair share of interesting girlfriends, and with everything that has happened in our career, I'm just very protective of him." Jason knew it probably didn't mean much coming from him, but he thought you at least deserved an explanation.

"I really do care about your brother, Travis. I'm not in it for the money or the fame." You swallowed, your eyes beginning to water. You let out a shaky breath, wiping your face with your sleeve.

"I know, I know. You two are really good together. I should have realized a long time ago that you were different. Hell, you're probably too good for my brother." You both chuckled. "Thank you, I accept your apology." Your moment was interrupted when you felt your fishing pole tug in your hands, your line starting to run away.

"Grab it, grab it." Jason instructed, guiding you as you reeled in your line. "Whatever it is, its gotta big huge if its giving you this much trouble!" You used all of your strength, handing it over to Jason when you lost your grip. As the last few meters of line came in, the giant catch was revealed: a tiny fathead minnow, probably weighed no more than a couple ounces.

"Ha!", you called out, allowing yourself to laugh and let the worry from earlier leave you. "You're welcome for breakfast this morning."

****

Travis' eyes lit up when he saw you walking back from the lake. He stood up, wringing his hands together in nervousness.

"We'll give you two some privacy." Jason and Kylie walked off to the car while you approached Travis. "Hi, did you sleep okay?" You could see the bags under his eyes; he probably got as much sleep as you did last night.

"Uh, no. I kept myself awake thinking of ways to apologize to you." You took his hand, your gaze falling as you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles. "Travis, there is no need to apologize. I know why you did what you did. You're not sure who you can trust now that you're Travis Kelce, best tight end in the league." You gave him a genuine smile.

"That's no excuse. You're not like any of the other girls I've dated."

"People keep saying that, but I don't know what that means." You climbed onto the top of the picnic table, Travis settling down next to you. "I just mean, I didn't have any doubts about you before we got here. You mean the world to me, baby."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that, Travis. I really care about you too." Your eyes dropped to his lips, Travis lifting your chin to meet his lips, your kiss soft and gentle.

"Good, the two of you have made up. Now we can all eat breakfast." Jason and Kylie returned with some bread, peanut butter and jelly for sandwiches.

"Wait, you guys didn't get any fish when you went out this morning?" Travis questioned, jumping off the table.

"Nothing was biting this morning, we'll try again tomorrow." Jason gave you a wink as he handed you a plate.

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#travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce #traviskelce #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce imagine #nfl fanfiction #nfl fanfic #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine

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starboyshoyo · 9 months

Text

A Beloved Tradition

Pairing: Luka x reader

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This piece is a bit more worldbuilding-heavy than the others I’ve done! I enjoyed writing it though, so I hope you like it too!

A paper marriage in Belobog isn’t the only way to show off the love between a couple.

According to the laws of Belobog, a marriage would have to pass through the Bureau of Civil Affairs in the administrative district before it could become official. But as history would have it, those in high places would often ignore the needs of those below. The Underworlders of Belobog, fed up with having their marriage requests delayed or even outright denied, came up with their own ceremonies to acknowledge the love between couples in their community.

A traditional Belobogian Undergrounder’s wedding consists of preparing and seasoning an olm frog, roasting it over Geomarrow ores, and sharing the meal in the heart of town.

- Excerpt from The Heart of Jarilo-IV: Belobogian Customs and Traditions

+++

“I don’t think this is what anyone had in mind when they said to prepare the olm,” you laughed, shaking your head.

Your boyfriend and soon-to-be husband Luka grins at you. “What, you’ve never seen a frog wear a hat before? Expand your mind, sweetheart! This is gonna be the prettiest roasted olm Boulder Town has ever seen.”

In his hands is the main ingredient to a traditional Belobogian miners’ dish- an olm frog. He fiddles with a napkin, folding it into a cap to put on the amphibian’s head.

“Well, he certainly is a handsome olm,” you concede with a fond grin. You lift it up, surveying Luka’s work. Despite the seeming unwieldiness of his mechanical arm, Luka had been able to fold the napkin into surprisingly neat creases, balancing it delicately on the frog’s head. “Still, he’s not as handsome as my fiancé here.”

“Awww, you flatter me~”

A gag from behind you interrupts the sweet moment. Seele and Natasha stand a little ways back, the former holding tongs and turning pieces of geomarrow ore in the stove, keeping it red-hot. “Get a room,” she gags, “You two are sweet enough to make me barf.”

“What Seele means is that it’s good to see the two of you so in love,” Natasha adds, with a meaningful glance towards her adopted daughter. “But we shouldn’t keep your guests waiting. The other dishes are already done- only the olm is left.”

“Sorry, Natasha,” Luka apologized, but it was clear that he wasn’t abashed in the slightest.

“No worries,” Natasha replied. She smiled warmly at the two of you. “I don’t think anyone would blame you for wanting to drag on the festivities for a little while longer. Goodness knows we’ve had little else to celebrate since the blockade”

The four of you were silent for a moment. The halt of trade and transport between the overworld and underworld was a touchy spot for Underworlders- some of them wanted to maintain their pride and wait it out, while others proposed they fight back against the tyranny of the Supreme Guardian in the streets above. The divide caused a lot of trouble for Wildfire, who struggled to keep the peace between two sides.

“… It feels selfish to be celebrating in a time like this,” you admit self-consciously, breaking the silence. “There’s so much else to be thinking about; to be fighting for. But here we are, taking up Wildfire’s time for something that isn’t official business.”

Luka nods, echoing the sentiment. “It feels a bit weird to be off duty for the first time in months. I hope it’s not too much trouble for you.”

“Of course it isn’t!” Seele shakes her head. “We wanted to be here for you guys. Don’t get all sappy on us now, just because we’re being nice.”

“Everyone was so excited for you guys when they heard the news,” Natasha confirms. She takes the tongs from Seele, turning over the geomarrow in the belly of the stove. “Wildfire takes care of our own. And besides, it isn’t just for the both of you. Morale has been high ever since the planning began. It’s good for everyone to see that life goes on, even when times are hard.”

Between Seele’s fierce encouragement and Natasha’s kind words, it’s hard to stay doubtful. “Thank you, both of you,” you say to them, and you mean it.

+++

“Gather round, everyone! Master Oleg would like to say a few words.”

The settling murmur of guests around you roils in your belly as you sit at a table set up in Boulder Town’s square. Luka is lounging beside you with his normal arm flung over your shoulder. The roasted olm rests on the table between you, no longer sizzling hot but still pleasantly warm.

“How much longer before we eat? I’m starving,” he whispers to you with a grin. You nudge him back, shushing him as Oleg begins to speak.

“I’ll try to keep this short, seeing as the groom is getting a little impatient.” He shoots a smile at Luka, then coughs once before clearing his throat. “It’s great to see you all here today, in support of two of our dearest members of Wildfire. There’s a lot to be said about the state of the Underground right now-“ Oleg waits for the murmurs to pass through the crowd to continue. “But I think it’s safe to say that this union between our happy couple is proof that life goes on, both on the surface of Belobog and below. No matter the circumstances, we will find ways to thrive.”

Oleg nods to you. “On behalf of Wildfire and the entire Underground, we wish you two a happy and loving marriage.”

That’s your cue. Picking up the fork from beside the roasted dish, you use it to tear a piece of juicy meat from the side of the olm and hold it out to Luka. He grins and does the same with his own fork. You exchange them, taking the bites off of each others’ utensils- sharing your first meal in the town square, just as couples did for hundreds of years before you. The crowd erupts in whistles and cheers- and just like that, you’re forever bonded to the love of your life. Luka pulls you in for a kiss and you reciprocate, smiling into his lips as he leans his forehead against yours.

Roasted olm is said to taste like chicken, but there’s no way for you to make that comparison. After all, as an Underworlder you’ve spent your entire life by the glow of a Geomarrow furnace. You didn’t have the luxury of the sun or the sky or a grand Overworlder’s wedding. But today has proven that you don’t need any of that to thrive- or to love.

Taking your new husband’s hand in yours, you look around at the people surrounding you. Miners and their families, Natasha, Seele, Oleg and the members of Wildfire, residents of Boulder Town, Hook and the Moles- and of course, Luka.

“There’s more than enough food here for everyone. Please, join us! Let’s eat!”

How very loved you are.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr luka #luka x reader #hsr luka x reader #belobog #luka strongarm #luka strongarm x reader

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8bitscarlet · 1 year

Text

Sun To Me

Summary: You don't remember a single winter where you weren't either stuck outside in a blizzard or stuck inside during a blizzard. Neither was ever fun to be in. But just this once, the blizzard may be the thing you always hoped for.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff (mention of alcohol, alcohol consumption, suggestive moments, mention of strip poker)

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: SURPRISE! I carved out some time between doing work things, (neglecting work things) for a day and wrote out a little bit of this series. This weekend I have absolutely nothing to worry about for work so I've decided to sneak in this "little" chapter of AOP. Definitely not little, consider it reconciliation for being away (tho I am leaving again). Happy Reading everyone! 💕 And Happy New Year!

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

___________________

"Can I borrow your phone?"

A hand glides across your shoulders, your eyes slowly rising up from the words you read. You guide a fork of food up to your mouth as you see the redhead notice the steaming cup of coffee you made for her. She peeks over at you with a soft grin,

"I forgot to plug mine in last night."

You hum unconvinced, pointing noiselessly to the counter as you chew on the breakfast she made before jumping in the shower. You flip to the next page of the newspaper, knowing that you plugged in her phone after she passed out halfway through the season you were watching. She just doesn't want to make the short journey back to the room.

She mutters out gratitude as she walks past you and as she leaves your sight, you feel your throat close. Choking on the food you were trying to swallow, you jump to your feet as you try to yell at her to wait.

As you turn, hacking up a lung and blinking away tears, you're too late. Wanda stands there, shaking your illuminated phone screen at you. Your eyes lock on the photo from when the two of you were undercover during a Brazil summer, you never experienced humidity like that before. You look like a tourist in your sweaty tank top with an incredibly loud and unbuttoned shirt flowing above your board shorts.

The smile on your face was real, you could see the crinkling around your eyes as your peace sign showed up behind Wanda's head. She was leaning against you, acting exhausted. Which you both were, bloody knees and covered in dust and mud, but you were both alive.

"I give Cap a run for his money in that photo," you clear your throat as you try and play off your sudden jumpiness to get some juice.

Wanda narrows her stare, "If anyone looks that good in the photo, it's me."

A chair scratches out behind you as you let out a casual chuckle, but you stare inside the fridge as you feel your heart beating heavy. You take down an entire glass, keeping your eyes away from Wanda as you pour another.

"Speaking of, Nat and Steve are still in the clear. This incoming blizzard is probably helping that,"

You nod, almost forgetting that the two of you were out in the middle of nowhere for a mission. You were supposed to be the chauffeur once Nat and Steve got a hold of some plans Yelena needed to do some black market trade on information for Strucker. It was a boring mission and easy to forget, especially when those green eyes were always across from you. They were all you could think about.

Turning, those eyes sit across the table as you take your seat. She has her legs curled up onto the seat, cabin socks pulled up high onto her calves and her cheek leaning on her knee with a soft grin as she watches you. Her eyes almost seem to brighten when they catch yours. You can feel a warmth on your face but you take a sip of the juice in your hand.

“What demise have you planned for me today, Maximoff? Monopoly? Clue?”

She chuckles, flicking aimlessly through the sports section she took from your newspaper, “Seeing if you noticed the poison.”

You glance up at her, “I did. That’s why I’m eating it.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, finding your weather app and staring at the radar, “How long do we have until that storm comes in?”

“According to my calculations,” you stab your fork into the paper, “Should be picking up within the hour.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to be out there.”

You make a face, “Oh yes, because I enjoy just sitting here and listening to those static radios all day.”

Wanda slides your phone back to you, floating over the last pancake on your plate to her hands. You clench your brows but she starts to talk before you can steal it back, “Don’t be a party pooper just because you suck at card games.”

Your mouth falls now, first the pancake attack and now an attack on your pride. Standing up, you throw your plate away and start to wash the breakfast dishes, “There is no way you got to UNO so quickly,” you mutter the last of your words beneath your breath, “I’d win if it was strip poker.”

She stands up and bumps you out of the way, making you dry and put away the dishes, “And what’s your definition of winning? Having the most clothes or having no clothes?”

You shrug, leaning back against the counter as you spin your towel covered hand inside a cup, “Depends on the company.”

Wanda chuckles, “I’m sure it does. And today, you can play it by yourself. While you go get more wood.”

You groan and extend your arms out across the table, pressing your cheek against the newspaper.

“You’re the one who’s always cold. You get the wood.”

Green eyes flash to yours, cocking her brow as she takes her fork and softly jabs it into the center of your palm. You clench your brows together, feigning excruciating pain and let out a whisper of a scream. Peeking through one of your shut eyes, you see her nose scrunch and eyes crinkle with her smile.

“Didn’t know torture was a hobby in your kingdom, princess.”

The fork digs ever more into your palm and you cringe at the stinging, wrapping your fingers around it and yanking it from her grasp. Wanda leans back into her seat,

“You should see what I can do with a spoon,”

Standing, you throw all the dirty dishes into the sink, “Pretty unoriginal if you just scoop out my eyes.” Peeking out the window, you see the clouds starting to darken. If you were going to refill the logs for the fire, you’d have to work double time.

“Promise you’ll think of something less boring by the time I come back,” you start to slip into all your layers, trying to get your foot into your boot.

“Only if you promise to also not be boring,” The words mutter out from the side of Wanda’s lips.

You frown, slamming your foot down into your boot, “I’m going to lock you outside in that blizzard.”

“I’m not making hot chocolate tonight,”

The grip you have on the back door tightens and you can hear the metal creak and dent beneath your fingers. Slowly, you turn and close the door to the whistling wind.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you narrow your stare as those green eyes narrow back at you,

Wanda shrugs as the steam from filling the sink, “Try me.”

With a sigh, you place your hands on your hips and watch her for a moment. Casually scrubbing plates and cups.

“I’ll bring the wood for your fire,” you give in to her soft glances and grin that teases at the corner of her lips, “And I guess I’ll make it too.”

As you open the door, you feel the warmth of something land on your face. Glancing over, you feel the same warmth as Wanda flicks water at you.

“Don’t take too long,”

You give a snarky grin, “You’ll miss me?”

“Ha! No, I’m cold and that fire is way too low. If you take too long, I’m going out there to make sure you weren’t mauled by a bear.”

Waving away her laughs, you make your trudge out into the blistering cold. You let out audible grumbles but you have a smile that spreads along your burning cheeks and warmth through your body that you hope stays.

__________________________________

You huff out as you trudge through the snow, chuckling to yourself as you watch your breath escape in a frozen cloud in front of you. Bending down, you pick up another fallen log and add it to the sack of other logs you toss over your shoulder.

“Y/N, are you laughing right now? Do you realize how cold it is and how far we are from warmth?”

Adjusting the bag to your other shoulder, you start to jog forward with a grin, “I can see the house from here. And you wanted to come help.”

Wanda groans as you pass her with a laugh, “Because you kept letting all the cold air in when you left for wood. God, it’s so cold. My feet are frozen!”

You stop, dropping the firewood into the snow and trudge back to her as you slip out of your jacket. Throwing it over her shoulders and buttoning it to stay, you feel the cold run down your spine as you quickly snatch the bag up again.

“You’d be absolutely terrible to go out on a lam with you know? Thank god you’re a hero.”

Trudging forward, dragging your feet along to try and make a walking path in the snow for the slow poke behind you, you hear complaining noises behind you.

“Can’t you carry me?”

You whip around, “Carry you?”

Wanda nods, adjusting some of the wood in her arms, “Aren’t you plagued with super strength. Just throw me over your shoulder.”

“What am I, Santa Clause? You’re the magical being here. Fly back to the house.”

You hear her let out a humph as the wind starts to pick up now, howling around you as you pick up your pace. You get to the door and rush inside, brushing off the snow from your now soaked through sweater. Ripping it off, Wanda stumbles through the door and lets out a violent shiver.

“How you doing? You okay?” You ask and she looks at you, knowing that tone, “Ten minutes in the elements. You need your last rites?”

“I want a towel, that’s what I want. You ass,”

You grin and take the little logs she managed to bring in and carry them over to the rest of the wood you had been gathering. Deciding Wanda will stay alive for the next five minutes, you go back to your room and quickly change out of your soaked clothes. The dry fabric instantly warms you as you tuck your sweatpants into your socks. There’s a loud creaking in the piping and you stop, kneeling down and pressing your hand against the vent.

Slowly letting out a breath, you don’t feel any warmth blowing out onto your hand. This will certainly be a fun announcement, you think and wonder how Wanda is probably gonna set this whole house on fire to stay warm. You peek your head into the den and let out another sigh, there’s still no static coming through. You tried already to knock some snow off the antennae, with mixed results on your descent. This blizzard’s already knocked out vital equipment and it hasn’t even hit full force.

Trudging down the hallway, you come around the corner with an amazing slide on your socks. Opening your mouth to let Wanda know the situation, you stop as you hear Wanda whispering in front of the fire. Feeding it more wood as she tells it to grow bigger and warmer.

“Are you talking to-?”

“I’ve seen how stroking your ego makes your head bigger, figured it would make the fire bigger.”

You point at her but let her have this when you see her teasing grin, reaching out for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. Tossing a towel at her, you start to pour some of the amber liquid into the coffee mugs you had this morning. Wanda squeezes the water from her hair as you hold up one of the mugs,

“This should keep you warm.”

Wanda hums and floats the mug towards her outreached hand, the warmth of her magic tickling up your arm, “And make bad decisions.”

You shrug, “I won’t let you run out into the blizzard naked.”

She scoffs as you slowly make your way to her, never taking your eyes from hers. You stop at the back of the sofa, eyeing the wood and wondering if it’d be better to move it all to a bedroom. A smaller space to warm.

“Why am I going to be naked? Is that why you’re keeping your distance?” She glances at how you’ve sat awkwardly against the couch edge, “Or was it cause you’re afraid of me for talking to the fire? I’ve heard being sociable is wildly attractive.”

You glance down at your whiskey as you swirl it around after a small sip, “I’m sure people have a lot of reasons to think you’re wildly attractive.”

There’s a soft silence between you, forcing your eyes to rise and see a playful grin on her face, “Does the alcohol reach your brain that fast?”

“Is that how you always sit on a chair?” you counter, seeing her sitting on the arm rest, as if she’s prepared to take off at any moment.

You both stare at each other, sipping from your mugs together and grinning. The wind howls outside and snow swirls around the windows but inside, there’s nothing but warmth. A comfort. You would never admit it, but you’re thankful for this blizzard. An unexpected lengthening of the mission. Wanda lets out a hum as she slithers into the seat, curling her legs up.

“What,” you chuckle, “I didn’t plan this. And I didn’t sign that mind reading waiver.”

Wanda sips on the whiskey, “You’re telling me you can’t control the weather?”

“Innocent,” you hold up your one free hand as you follow Wanda’s move down into your own seat, “Get Natasha on the radio right now, she’ll tell you. Well.. you could if the storm didn’t knock out our comms.”

Her brow rises slightly, seeing that you’re still hiding something. You take another sip of whiskey and hide behind the mug, “And our heat.”

“Oh yes, I see. Far too much work to alter the atmosphere, cut off all our communication and have our heat taken away. I’m not important enough to go through all that trouble?”

You breathe in carefully, “You…,” leaning forward onto your knees and feeling the warmth of the alcohol running through your limbs, “Have no idea how important you are.”

Wanda places down an empty mug, “Don’t I?”

You grin, a confidence she always hid running off of her, “You are more important than that North Star.”

Her green eyes widen, a slow breath filling her lungs as she rolls one of the rings on her fingers, “You paid attention.”

“To you? Always,” you have your eyes follow your movement as you place down your mug, “Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

Clearing your throat as you try to get a chuckle out, you massage the stiffness from your fingers, “I’ve heard of another way to get warm.”

Wanda raises a brow, “With how you’re talking, I’m a little worried.”

“I read in a book once,” you start jokingly, and Wanda turns her head, covering her mouth to keep herself from mockingly asking that you can read and looks at you with gleaming eyes, “It’s easier to pass body heat when there isn’t clothing interfering.”

“How about we use that as a last resort, after your beloved strip poker. Because you can make a fire in here,” Wanda laughs as you watch her walk off to the bedroom, the wood floating behind her. Your chuckle falls short as you make a face at the scene. Wondering why she didn’t do that out by the shed and bring over all the wood. You shake your head but smile like an idiot to yourself, knowing she just wanted to be there.

Leaning against the doorway, you watch her try to set up the logs. She’d been watching you for the past week, asking questions and being so close her touch and smell intoxicated you more than the whiskey ever could. Wanda’s fingers set up the twigs and rolls the newspaper as she floats the light up to her hand and starts to try and get this fire roaring.

Working your way inside, you watch her in silence and grin at the seriousness on her face. Moving the logs to the holder, you hobble after one that rolls away from your grasp. You watch it get engulfed in an iridescent red glow and slowly float towards and then past you.

“Why are you limping?”

You tie up the bag of extra logs and toss it in the corner, “What?”

Wanda watches the fire for a moment and then looks back to you, “You’re limping. What did you do?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug as you try to hobble quickly out of the bedroom and to the kitchen in an escape. She calls out your name but you’re fast on this throbbing ankle. But as you reach the kitchen and push up the sleeves of your shirt, Wanda is already there. She runs her hands down your arm and gently looks at the scratches on your hands.

“What happened?”

You sigh, “I climbed to fix the comms this morning. And it was really icy up there,”

“You fell off the roof?!” she exclaims, smacking you for not telling her before. You swat away her hands before they actually hit one of the forming bruises on your body.

“The snow doesn’t provide much padding, I’ve learned,” you grimace out as the soreness in your shoulder is finally appearing as you lift the filled kettle.

“Jesus,” Wanda whispers and yanks you away as the water starts to heat up, “Come here,”

Her yanking is insistent. She’s not asking permission to shove you down into the chair. And she’s certainly not apologizing for making you shout out in pain when your weight falls onto your hip.

“That hurts!” You flinch away from her touch as she tries to look you over for some probable internal bleeding. A damp towel floats into her hand and the warmth is soon dabbing at the swollen scratch on your cheek that was hidden from the redness caused from the wind whipping outside. Her leg rests on your thigh, providing her support and you can feel the pressure slowly start to turn into pain. That was where you landed directly on a camouflaged tree stump and buried your face into the frozen ground to muffle your yell.

But you have no frozen ground to muffle this yell, “Ow!” you shout directly in her face.

“Well dammit, Y/N! What doesn’t hurt?!”

You look at her, “Why? You have some voodoo magic? A Sokovian old wive’s tale you swear by?”

She raises a silent brow, telling you in a simple stare to watch your tone. She didn’t make you fall off the roof and she didn’t cause the embarrassment you’re feeling for no reason. With a sigh, you lean back into the chair and point towards your shoulder, “Here,”

Wanda rolls her eyes and mockingly kisses her hand and presses it against the throbbing shoulder. You can feel the warmth without seeing the muted red that escapes her palm, “The building isn’t that high.”

“The ground is that hard. Here,” you point to the top of your head. Her lips press softly against her glowing palm as she gently pulls off your beanie and presses the warmth against the injury free part of your forehead.

She leans close, your breaths merging together as you can still smell the whiskey on her breath. Her eyes glance over you, searching for hidden scratches. Gliding over your stare and finding their way to your lips. She pulls in a deep breath, fingers gently running across your neck,

“How do you feel now?”

You watch her eyes find yours again, your hands resting on either side of her thighs. Feeling how gently she sways, how close she lingers. Your body is warm, as if every square inch of you is being massaged out of every kink and knot. It comforts you in a way you’ve only found from this witch. A comfort that’s only grown more addicting with each passing day, each passing moment.

A violent whistle explodes through the house. Both of you jumping and any thoughts of finding more comfort ends. You lean back into the seat as Wanda glances back at the screaming kettle. Leaving your side to silence it, you push off of the seat and limp around her.

There’s nothing but silence between the two of you as you work in unison. Handing her mugs that already have each of your favorite tea’s tossed inside. Wanda pouring in the boiling water as a floating spoon puts in the exact amount of required sugar. It was a perfect concert of movement and thoughts you’d never expected to share with anyone. And as you look over at the red head, you know she hasn’t read a single mind in your head. All of this being simple subconscious, your conscious thoughts racing with other contemplations.

_____________________________

Blankets are thrown and a hood is pulled taut around your face. Feet are slammed into slippers as you shuffle quickly across the floor and a hiss follows after you.

“I’m keeping the fire going!” you call back to her, as you quickly stack the logs to keep the fire fed for hours to come. The bedroom is warm everywhere the orange glow touches but the cold fingers of the dark close in as the evening continues. Threatening to make your breaths reappear.

“You’re letting all the cold air in!” Wanda rolls herself in the loosened covers as you climb back into the bed. You yank the stolen sheets back to you, dragging her closer to you as she doesn’t dare let go of the warmth.

“I should’ve just moved my own bed in here, blanket hog,” you mutter and try to hibernate your whole body beneath the blankets.

But cold has snuck its way in as you feel a sharp chill on your bare arms, vulnerable after you shoved up your sleeves so they didn’t burn with the fire. You jump from the chilling fingers that wrap around your arms.

“Wanda,” you shiver out and yank down your sleeves, “Where are your freaking mittens?”

“I lost them in the snow, stop moving the sheets!” she yells through gritted teeth and pulls more of your sheets, surprising you with this hidden strength.

You groan, moving with the yanking and flipping yourself over onto your other side. Taking your hands from your hoodie pocket, you wrap your arms around her. Wanda tenses, rolling away and shoving you back to your side.

“What the hell are you doing?” her green eyes flicker around your face, her words coming out nearly breathless.

“Do you want them to find us frozen to death in here? It’s just getting colder.” Wanda narrows her stare as you continue, “Or I can keep these little hand warmers to myself.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “You ass,” flipping back over and pulling your arms back around her. You rub the hand warmers together before pressing them against her, feeling how cold she had been even with all these blankets. She lets out a quiet moan and you're silenced as your breath catches in your throat. Slowly, her body stops the beginning of its shivers and her chattering teeth have stopped.

“Thank you,” she whispers as she scoots herself further into you, your arms wrapping ever so slightly tighter around her.

“What letter plan is our last resort? L? Q? Cause if we die of hypothermia I’m going to blame you,” you mutter into her neck and she shivers a little bit.

She knocks her shoulder back into you, “Don’t do that,”

“What. I’m just talking, Maximoff,” you breathe out heavily and watch the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Before you can pester her more, she whips around and presses you down onto the bed, her fingers wrapped tightly around your hoodie.

“I’m going to murder you before the cold does,” Her hand smashes you down into your pillow,

You nod your head side to side for a moment, “That’s smart. I could be a good food source. I’d eat through the leftovers we have first, though.”

“Shut up,” she says and when you look up, you expect her rolling eyes and her to flop back onto the bed. But neither of those things happen. Her grip on your hoodie has softened, the palms of her hands resting lightly on your body. Wanda rests on top of you, her eyes flashing down to your lips and up to your eyes. You clench your brows, fingers creeping up to her wrists, “Just…”

“Just what?” you chuckle nervously, unable to read what’s happening in front of you, nothing but complete seriousness on her face.

The palm on your chest now hovers over your face, her thumb tracing along your face. You breathe calmly, finding her studying eyes as her thumb slides carefully across your lips.

“I think you should just kiss me,”

You feel the shock first. Your body nearly falling limp as all of your senses explode. Feeling exactly how she rests on top of you, where each of her fingers presses down onto your body. The smell of firewood smoke and lavender wafting off of her and into your nose. The flashes of firelight that show how wide her pupils have exploded in her eyes.

It’s a quick paralysis. The part of your brain you’ve had chained finally getting the permission it’s long been waiting for. You grip the back of her neck and slam your lips against hers. She straddles your lap as you press yourself up against the headboard, lips moving in unison. Her lips are as cold as the air around you but you can feel the warmth of her breath as her lips part in a sigh.

Pulling apart, she rests her forehead on yours as you both pant out into the darkening evening. You feel her fingers grip onto your hoodie tightly, pulling herself towards you, closer than you thought could be possible. And you watch the grin on her lips form ever so softly.

“We should’ve done that sooner,” she breathes out with a chuckle, but you don’t chuckle with her.

“Wanda-,” she presses her fingers to your lips.

Her lips gently find yours again as your hands glide across her thighs. You're intoxicated every moment she touches you, any discipline you had all these months forgotten with a single kiss, a single glance. Your hands rest at the edge of her sweater, pushing up the fabric and your lips parting for only a moment as it rises above her face. Your fingers trace along her silk skin beneath the long sleeve she has under. Her fingers grip your hair tightly as you guide your lips down her neck. Spending time at the tender pulsing point under her skin, listening to the quiet moan that escapes her lips.

“I swear to god,” she sighs out but pulling you closer, “If you give me a hickey, I’m-,”

“Uh huh,” you mutter, “Ripping my limbs off.” You peck her lips, “Blah,” and again, “Blah.”

It’s nearly cold enough to see each other’s breaths perfectly as you pant out into the darkness. You don’t mind the chill. Both of you undressing until there’s barely anything left but the electricity coursing through your veins.

The fire burns brightly behind you now. The glow curling around in a comforting warmth, lighting up the woman in front of you. Cupping her face with a careful touch, you part yourself from her lips and listen to the whining moan that comes from her.

“You’re not supposed to stop. We’ll start thinking,” she warns you, but doesn’t yank you back to her.

Your eyes study her, the flickering of the flames and the glowing of the moon that comes through the waning clouds. Staring at her now, there’s a feeling of weightlessness inside of your chest as your limbs begin to tingle. Your fingertips explode with sensations with each trace down her arms you drag.

“Are you-,”

She can see the worry on your face, the thoughts you hide and the desperation in your eyes to not let this be a one time thing. But it’s a secret you try to hold, yet you know how well she can read all of them. Her green eyes wash over you, memorizing you with each slow blink. You don't want this to be like all of your other times. Animalistic and feral, ripping clothes off. You’d rather it never happen at all then to happen like that.

“Yes, Y/N.” she whispers, “Are you going to kiss me again or do I have to do it myself?”

You grin at her, “Yes ma’am.”

Those green eyes become hidden as you press a soft kiss onto her lips Her fingers grip your hair tightly as you softly guide your fingers down her neck, admiring each curve and line on her body. Not wanting to miss a single mark on the woman in front of you.

You hook beneath the straps of her bra, as you guide your mouth down her soft skin. Kissing along her collarbone, you plant a long kiss against her shoulder. You know that these shoulders hold more than just these straps every day and you hope to help her slide it aside. They've carried the memory of her family upon them. The world that thrives because of what she’s done, what she’s sacrificed. She holds everything so effortlessly. Never a complaint to the world, but you’ve seen the weight nearly destroy her. You know her. If you can, you’ll help take it all away for just a moment.

She arches towards you, running her nails down your back before she grabs your face and brings your lips back to her. You sit up to work at the final layer on your body but she grips you tightly, her eyes begging you to stay close. To look into her eyes and see her.

And you do.

You hover over her as her fingers slowly unbutton each button with her delicate fingers. As you look into her eyes, you don’t want to hide anymore. One by one, they come undone just as you come undone in her eyes. You know these eyes have seen your insecurities, your fears. One by one, they showed themselves to her.

Slowly, she slides the soft fabric down your back, feeling the way your muscles clench against the cold touch. Nails turning white as you grip her tighter, not letting her stray from you.

“Drop it, Y/N.” she whispers as she pulls the fabric from your hands. You clench your brows softly as she runs her hand down your back again, “You’re not just carrying the weight of that button down.”

You breathe out carefully, slowly lowering yourself as you wrap your arms around her. Pressing kisses against her lips. Not feverishly and forceful like before. You aren’t desperately grasping at this moment to keep it from slipping away. You’re holding on deeply to have it last.

Gripping the blankets the two of you were fighting over, you throw them over your bodies as you grip Wanda’s waist. Guiding your kisses down her body, you cover every inch of her sweet body with your lips. Caressing her curves with the tips of your fingers as you soak in her beauty. It feels like you’ve waited all your life for just this single moment, an inescapable feeling of being whole.

You were constantly reminded that nothing was perfect, everything has its flaws. But as you memorize every part of the woman in front of you, how soft her skin is beneath your fingertips, the lavender that wafts from her and intoxicates you, how her fingers hold you so close, to her quiet sigh, you realize something. That if nothing was perfect, then she was absolutely nothing.

“You’re so warm,” she sighs out, her fingers reaching for you. You intertwine her fingers in yours as you climb up from her thighs, slowly kissing her jaw.

You freeze, hovering just above her lips and wait for those green eyes to flutter and rest on yours. She smiles when she sees you there, her hand resting on your cheek.

“You’re…” you breathe out a heavy sigh, grinning over how she’s taken away every ability to be irritating. “You’re gorgeous. You have no idea how beautiful you are.” you tell her, pressing a deep kiss onto her lips. Wanting to stay just like this.

Her hands hold onto you tightly and her sighs fill you with a warmth you’ve not felt in years. A brightness that you swear you can see shine from within her. And you wonder, if this was the only time you’d ever be able to let that light shine without messing it up. How each of these moments together has been in darkness. Can you only feel her in the darkness? Were you still hiding?

You remember a time where you lived in the light, but now you’re worn out. Scared of what that morning light could bring as it swept away the darkness of the night. The night that you could hide behind. You knew that she’d be there through the night, a single bed and a fire made it certain. But when the morning light came, nothing would hold her there.

You could be everything she needed in the night but for her to stay in the morning and for you to exist beside her, your hope couldn’t reach that high to lie and say it was possible.

“Y/N,” she whispers against your lips and you feel your chest constrict as she speaks your name in such a way. Your palm pressing against the cold skin of her stomach, listening to how she gasps at your warm touch. “Don’t leave.”

You stare down at her and swallow tightly, would she wait for you to wake from the darkness? You take your hand and glide the back of your fingers across her cheek, stroking away a fallen tear.

“Wanda,”

“When we get Sturcker. Don’t leave. Stay.” her voice barely reaches your ears, but when it does, it’s like a jackhammer on your chest.

Looking down at her, you see her. You’ve always seen her. Sitting outside your cell, she was never a witch. She was the woman with emerald sea eyes that peered so deeply into you. You’ve seen her and you know her. Every physical inch of her and every emotional inch.

She knew this, she bared her fears and vulnerabilities to you. And you’d done the same. You see everything you need right here. You realize that you don’t care where you are, as long as you’re with her. That’s all that matters to you now.

You shake your head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

She sighs and closes her eyes tightly, the slightest grin forming on her lips.

“Hey,” you whisper to her gently, pressing against her dimple as you wait for her to look at you, “Wipe that grin off your face and kiss me.”

____________________________________

You hear the soft beeping of your alarm. 535 in the morning. It was time to start your day and you could feel a tightening in your chest that was never there before. You’re terrified to open your eyes. Wondering if she was still there. If wanda laid there still next to you or if it was all a cruel dream.

As you reach out for your water to quench the dryness in your throat, you feel a weight on top of you. Unfamiliar to any other time you’ve woken up. Opening your eyes slowly, you see that Wanda lays across you. You eye the completely empty side of her bed with a grin. It was warm inside the bed, you could stay in here a little longer before you face the blistering cold. The day would keep moving so you stay anyway.

Arms are tied around each other and your legs are numb as hers wrap tightly around your knees. The sun sneaks through the window blinds onto her face as you look down at her. You grin, grateful for the rising sun that burned against closed eyes and woke you a second time. If only to see this.

The sunflower intricately weaved into the chain around her neck. She truly was the sun itself.

The sun that shook the frost from you. That had you not acting so angry all the time. Or keeping it all inside. You try so hard to tell her how much you care for her everyday but you don’t even know what that means. That you care for her. You don’t have any words yet, as you reach forward and swipe a stray hair from her face.

She sighs in her sleep, scooting closer but her grip loosens. Freeing you to finally get the day started but you continue to stay there, for just one moment more. Every breath you take with her reminds you that each day is now yours. A hopeful thought as you rise out of the bed, ensuring the blankets keep Wanda nestled in their comforting warmth in your absence.

Sneaking back inside, you hear her starting to wake up as shake the chill from your bones and the snow from your feet. The smell of coffee fills the house and you ensure her coffee is made exactly to her liking. As the fire begins to reawaken with the logs you feed it, you place Wanda’s mug onto the bedside table.

“Are you still alive?”

There’s a muffled groan and a half asleep voice comes from within the pillow, “Depends who’s asking,”

You crouch down in front of her, swirling the coffee underneath her nose. She scrunches it, much to your amusement.

“I’m asking.”

She grins, trying to hold down her giggle, “Then no,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh come on. I see that little grin. You’re not even trying to hide it!”

Wanda looks out through one eye at you. She grins at your smile, the first sight of the day and you feel the warmth it sends through your chest.

“Oooo, coffee?”

“Yeah, you know. To hide the morning breath,” you grin as you take a sip of yours.

Her hand comes from beneath the sheets in a sneak attack, slapping your arm, “Yours is way worse.” That attacking hand reaches out again, this time grabbing your shirt and pulling you to her, “C’mere.”

You quickly place your mug on the bedside table before you’re both burned and you get lost in her kisses. You chuckle into her lips as she rolls to try and keep her lips on yours as you climb over her and clamber back underneath the covers. You flop onto your stomach, still halfway on top of her as she lazily runs her fingers around the back of your thigh.

“You fixed the heater, didn’t you?”

You make a noise of affirmation, eyes feeling heavy in this warmth. She runs her cold hand up your shirt, a perfect contrast as you feel her fingers trace the scars on your body.

“Wasn’t it cold?”

You shrug and then tense when you feel her lips touch your skin. Her kisses press against your scars all along your body.

“If I could,” her breath brushes against your skin, “I would kiss these all away.”

Wanda presses a kiss against your cheek and her hair falls over you in a soft curtain as she lays next to you.

“I’m glad for them,” you murmur into the pillow, your eyes still closed as her nose gently strokes yours.

Her brows clench softly, “Really?” she whispers and you slowly open your eyes.

“They got me here,” you say and see her grin, fingers stroking down your face, “Good morning.”

She raises her brows, “Indeed. How’d you sleep?”

You hum out, feeling her kiss your nose, “Did I snore?” Wanda nods and you feel it. You chuckle, “Then I slept perfectly. It was a long night though.

She chuckles and sits up, wrapping herself in the hoodie you laid on the comforter for her and you open your eyes to her sipping on her coffee.

“Last day on mission,” she whispers, blowing against the steam of her drink.

You make a noise, disappointed that it’s the truth.

“How do you think everyone will take it after hearing about this?”

You sigh, “I say we just don’t say anything. How about that?”

She nods, staring into her coffee, “What happened in a snowed in cabin stays in a snowed in cabin?”

“Oh no,” you chuckle and squeeze the pillow, “I think we have a few things to talk about,” Your voice was light and joking but Wanda’s fingers stopped tracing along your arm, her eyes looking straight past you.

Wanda breathes in carefully, “Jokes aside, we do have to talk this through don’t we? I… I meant it when I said you can’t leave.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips against her fingers, “I told you I had nowhere to go. But we’re already having the talk?”

She rolls her eyes, “You know, I don’t think you blaming being a mercenary for making you single is true. It’s just a talk, coward.”

You sigh, feeling her leg rest on top of yours, “I just slept with the strongest Avenger. I’m impervious to your insults.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you out of this.”

“But,” you grin over at her, “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” And you’re right, your grin growing as you watch her nose scrunch and her cheeks grow red.

The way she looks at you, the shock that jolts through you each time you see her and the flipping of your stomach when you hear her voice. It feels like it should be obvious what you should be feeling right now. But something feels wrong. Something inside of you is keeping you from latching onto her with no regrets and complete devotion. Something pushes you away and as she looks down at you, you know she can see it. She can see you.

With a silent nod, Wanda brushes back some of your hair, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now,” Lips press against yours as you breathe in deeply, “Thank you for fixing the heater.”

You hum out, feeling her fingers start their tracing once again and start to lull you back into a comfortable sleep. They trace over your scars and you just sink deeper into the bed, knowing you’ve told her about almost all of them on your body by now. But her finger runs against a rather new, raised gash. Over and over again, inspecting it with a careful stare.

“That’s the one I gave you isn’t it?”

Chuckling, you glance behind your shoulder and point to a jagged gash on the side of your thigh, you remember your thigh was ripped to shreds that mission, “I’m surprised you didn’t go for this one.”

“Please,” Wanda rolls her eyes, “I’m humble.”

You hum, “That’s the one. A little to the left and you would’ve caught my artery. Talk about messy.”

She makes an intrigued sound but leans over to kiss it before sliding beneath the covers, “I thought about it.”

“I’m sure you did,” you press a soft kiss to her lips as she squeezes the pillow to her liking, “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

“So am I,” she whispers, but you know there’s no period at the end of that sentence. There’s something eating at her still as her hand glides down your arm and the other settles beneath her head. Her fingers gently wrap around yours and your thumb slowly strokes along the top of her hand, an action you don’t even think about until you’re already doing it.

You stay silent. Raising your brow gently, waiting for her to speak. You hope it won’t take long because you can feel yourself sinking into the bed as you let out a quiet yawn.

“Do you hurt?” she whispers and you stare, waiting. “I don’t mean pain but your past. Does it hurt you?”

Taking in a deep sigh, you ponder for a moment and glance away with a burning feeling of shame for how you’ve lived your life, “Now that I've truly looked at it, I suppose it does.”

“Do you regret it?”

You pick your eyes up and stare into her, finding no judgment in those emerald eyes as she offers you more time to think, “Being a mercenary?”

You breathe in slowly, jaw clenching and grasp on her hand growing ever so slightly tighter. “It’s hard to regret something you didn’t choose. This… it was all I knew.”

“But if the choice had been yours, what would you have done instead? Could learn any trade? Would you be a farmer?” A smile expands on her face as she realizes something, scooting closer into you, “An astrologist?”

You chuckle, remembering the chilly night on that cold bench, “Maybe I could find the Little Dipper.”

Wanda laughs, a sound so heavenly and sweet but her eyes intently wait for your answer. And you give her one.

“But if I ever thought of being something else… Something that… I’m not. It happened so long ago. I don't remember.” Your voice is getting lower as your eyes grow heavier. Your body is so calm. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly relaxed as much as you have in this moment, “Did you dream of being a hero?”

Wanda thinks for a moment but soon the answer finds her, “I didn’t have much choice either.”

You turn your head more towards her, letting out a soft sigh, “Did you always want a family like this?”

“I lost my family,” her green eyes glance away from you, thinking of what could’ve been, “And I found another but… I dreamed of becoming important to someone. One day.”

The battle has been lost as your eyes fall, a hum coming from deep within your throat. A chuckle gently pulls you back for a moment,

“Do I bore you?”

You open your eyes slowly, seeing the humor in Wanda’s eyes. You grin, eyes closing once again when you see she isn’t angry, “Of course not. I’m just listening better.”

She laughs, fingers just skimming your arm and leaving behind a radiating feeling with each pass, “Have you ever been in love? Been important to someone?”

You sigh, clutching your pillow tighter as you wonder if this would be the moment, “I thought I was, That scar on my chest is… well, I thought wrong. And the knife proved it. Never could let my guard down again.”

Wanda hums quietly, brushing the hair from your face and resting her hand on your forearm. Seeing just how much of your guard was let down right now, on a mission of all places. Gently, you open your eyes and look at her. A soft stare as her blown out pupils look to you, fingers running down and over the scar you mentioned. So vulnerable, she could kill you without a single thought. But all you feel is warmth. And you wish to let her know.

“Before we met, my days were planned down to the hour. They were calm. My nights were restless, gathering enough energy to go get through the day. Sleeping on floors,” you grin lightly but her eyes haven’t left your half exhausted face, “But now, my days…”

The world around you is losing physical form as your consciousness starts to slip away and so does your control on your tongue, “… You’re important to me.”

As you start to relax into dreams, you can feel a cold touch on your skin. Running across your forehead, you relax the wrinkles between your brows as the chill touch slides down the bridge of your nose. It rests on your jaw, a soft caressing along your cheek as you let out a soft sigh. Warm breath washes over your face and you feel the smallest grinning kiss press against your cheek.

“The past has passed,” she whispers against your skin, “Let’s stay in right now.”

As her fingers trace along your body, it’s just you and her, and there’s nothing more you want. She’s everything. And you know exactly why your heart flutters each time her eyes find you, why your skin burns every moment her cold hands touch you. Whenever she’s near, you were right where you needed to be. And right now, it all became crystal clear.

You didn’t need the night to be alive anymore. You could live on your own. But Wanda in the morning time makes you glad you’re still alive.

———————Chapter 17

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #accidentally on purpose #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda fluff #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda mcc

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holdupjack · 5 months

Text

The Captains Princess Pt.2

——————

Part 1

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirates and Royalty

WARNING: SMUT 18+/MINORS DNI

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

November 24th, 1655

Hermione sat at her desk as sea shanties were muffled by the closed doors behind her. Her eyes darted around the map she was given by her captain earlier today.

They had stopped at one of the fishing towns in the American Colonies to resupply and trade for various items the crew needed. Y/n said they had been here multiple times before, and decided to wake Hermione in the early morning when they arrived.

Hermione had to keep her head down for the most part during their journey around the world. It quickly spread about what had happened in her home country, and an enormous bounty had been set on Y/n's head.

Well, a bigger bounty at least.

It had been barely three in the morning when she was awoken, Y/n smiling as she whispered about taking her around the town before anyone competent was awake.

Hermione was out the door when she was given the 'go ahead' by the Captain to see the foreign land she dreamed of.

Y/n chuckled as she grabbed her bag of coins from the shelf near the door, and jogged after her.

"Are you sure? Do you think it's safe for me to go off ship?" Hermione asks as she slips on her coat, looking over the sleeping town. Y/n hummed as she greeted Draco and switched head apparel with him, much to his dismay.

The Captain's hat was smaller on him, but he knew Y/n couldn't go out looking like her description. So, he begrudgingly gave up his dark grey bandanna.

"As long as we don't bring any attention to ourselves, then we'll be fine." Y/n hummed as she watched Hermione put her hair into a tight bun.

"Are you warning yourself or me?" Hermione asks with a smirk of teasing as she watches the seasoned leader walk onto the board and hold out her hand.

"Depends, do you plan to join me in some hijinks?" Y/n asks as Hermione takes her hand and travels onto the dock with the Captain.

"What kind of hijinks, Cap?" Hermione asks as their hands drop, but Y/n is quick to hold out her arm for her to take.

"Might pickpocket the wealthy, charm a few women...who knows what this night will entail?" Y/n says as Hermione takes her arm as they walk down the dock. The young former Princess hummed softly as the lanterns guided their way onto the mainland.

"Can we explore a little before we are run out?" Hermione asks with a chuckle as she let her eyes roam the buildings that stood near the bay.

"For you, Princess? I'll be on my best behavior" Y/n says as they walk further into town, the road seems to be deserted, but the houses have soft lighting shining out the window.

"I know you said you wanted a life with adventure, but do you ever think about settling down in the future?" Y/n asks as their eyes peered into the home to their left, a man and woman were asleep on the couch as their child lay between them.

"Maybe, depends if I find someone worth settling with," Hermione says as they walk by, before looking back at the emptiness of the street in front of them.

It was silent for a block before Hermione retorted with the same question.

"What about you, do you ever see yourself giving up the helm?" She asks to which Y/n gives her a flirtatious smirk and pulls her closer.

"Only for you" she states to which Hermione rolled her eyes and looked back in front of her. Their 'relationship' had been changing slowly but surely, both of them getting more comfortable as time went on.

"You are saying that just to get a rise out of me" Hermione chuckles softly as they walk down an empty alleyway when a couple begins to approach them.

"Is it working?" Y/n asks as they walk out onto another sidewalk, Hermione just pats her stomach.

"If that helps you sleep at night" she responds as they watch a horse-drawn wagon go by with a young boy sleeping in the back, newspapers all around him.

(A/N: Newspapers were invented in 1605)

"What about kids?" Y/n asks as they start walking toward the town square. The sky was getting brighter, but the sun had yet to show itself. The black sky was turning to blue above them.

"Kids? I never gave it much thought until marriage was being put upon me" Hermione mutters as her fingertips brush the Captain's wrist.

"Not one Prince piqued your interest? Made you wonder how pretty your kids would be with them?" Y/n asks with a grin as the former Princess huffs in annoyance, pinching her forearm in silent protest.

"No! I was sixteen when they started spewing about marriage and 'carrying on the lineage'." she states as they walk past a big courthouse, they have announcements posted for weddings this weekend. Ironic.

"Ah, you were thinking about what to name your new pony and what kind of dessert you wanted for your birthday party" Y/n teased as Hermione reached up and smacked her forehead.

"I said sixteen, not six" Hermione says with a roll of her eyes as Y/n snickered as they stopped in front of a library across the street. The Captain would see the intrigue in her eyes, and couldn't help but bump her shoulder.

"Want to explore inside? It says it's open" Y/n says as she begins to pull Hermione with her, who was trying to put her feet on the ground at this point.

"Are you crazy?! What if someone recognizes us?" she whispers as the stronger girl pulls her towards the library. Their hands interlocked as Hermione was tugged across the street, Y/n had a grin on her face.

"You know how to run, don't you?" she replies with a grin as they slip through the front door, Hermione grasped the back of Y/n's shirt with her other hand in pure nervousness.

The librarian didn't even bother looking up as she wrote down something in a journal, the two quietly walked down the aisles, Hermione's eyes sparkled as she let go of Y/n's hand. Yet she kept a hand on her though, not letting the sneaky captain out of her orbit.

"Too bad I can't take them all with me" Hermione whispers as her free hand skims along the spines of the books.

"Steal one" Y/n whispers with a smirk and Hermione rolls her eyes, a smile of her own being revealed.

"You haven't rubbed off on me yet" she chuckled as she pulled Y/n with her down the row.

"You haven't let me yet do that yet..." Y/n grumbled as Hermione smacked her stomach again.

"Rubbed off, not on" Hermione flushed with a harsh whisper as Y/n snicked again, enjoying making the well-mannered girl blush.

Hermione mumbled small curses as she pulled Y/n down the row, feeling the sensation of the Captain staring at the back of her head.

"Stop staring" Hermione states as her face fights the redness away from her cheeks. Y/n quietly snickered as she ran into the back of the Princess when she wasn't looking.

They stumble slightly as Hermione places a hand on her chest as she peeks around the corner.

The sheriff stood near a bulletin board, nailing a wanted and missing persons poster on it.

WANTED:

Y/N Y/L/N

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE

REWARD:

$50,000

"Dammit, the news made it here too" Hermione whispered as Y/n wrapped her arms around the girl's waist.

MISSING PERSONS:

HERMIONE GRANGER

PRINCESS OF ICELANDIA

BROWN HAIR

BROWN EYES

5'5

145 POUNDS

REWARD:

$5,000

"Why are you worth more than me? I'm the Princess!" Hermione grumbled as Y/n rested her chin on the brunette's shoulder and peeked around the corner.

"It was added on, it was forty-five thousand before" Y/n whispers as the Sheriff walks away, they can hear the opening and closing of the front doors.

"We need to get back to the ship, this is bad" Hermione mumbles back as she slips from Y/n's grasp and carefully steps down the small walkway on the other side of the shelves, out of the librarian's sight.

"You worry too much" Y/n whispers as she follows nonchalantly, while Hermione tries to be as inconspicuous as possible. Which just made her stand out more.

"You need to worry more!" Hermione whispers back as she hides around corners, while Y/n simply walks past her and toward the bulletin board.

"Y/n!" She called out softly as the Captain simply walked up and quietly ripped off the posters. The Librarian didn't even bother to look up again, she wasn't paid enough to care.

Y/n threw out the posters, but when she turned around, Hermione grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her out of sight.

A little too hard actually, because Y/n ended up slamming into her, knocking them both to the ground. They land with a loud thud, Y/n landing on top of Hermione with a soft 'huff'.

"Is everything alright?" The librarian calls out, but from the sound of her voice, she still didn't give a rat's ass.

"Yes, just dropped a book!" The Captain replies as the librarian just hums in response. Hermione covered her mouth as she fought back some laughter, Y/n looked at her with a smile as she loomed over her.

"Are you alright Princess?" She whispers as Hermione buries her face in Y/n's shirt to muffle her embarrassed giggles.

"I hate you sometimes, you make me do the most idiotic things" Hermione whispered against her neck when she turned to unmute herself. A shiver ran across Y/n's spine as her breath wafted over her skin.

"That 'hate' of yours isn't strong enough to make you walk away" Y/n replied as she mumbled against her ear, she felt Hermione's grasp tighten on her shirt.

"Yet" she whispers back, but that only makes the Captain chuckle softly.

"Don't lie. Princesses don't lie" the Captain says as she hears the soft hitch of a gasp from Hermione's throat. Y/n pressed her nails into the wood of the floor next to the girl's head, fighting the urge to do something...'impolite' as the former royal would call it.

They stared at one another, the threat of getting caught growing more and more by the second.

"Hermione..." Y/n whispers as their lips brush, and a chill runs down the brunette's spine, her own nails digging into the captain's shoulders when she trailed her hands up to them.

"Sometimes I ask myself if you're a Siren in disguise... controlling my very self with your beauty and song" Y/n mumbled at her eyes hooded, teasing another kiss. Hermione bit back a gasp as her body began to burn.

To burn for her Captain.

They soon heard the front doors open again and more voices. It looks like their moment has to end. For now.

"Come on my lovely Siren, it's time to leave" Y/n whispers as she stands up and helps Hermione to her feet, who looked like she was ready to burst with flames from her cheeks.

Their hands intertwined as Y/n quickly zigzagged them through shelves upon shelves of literature. They eventually made it to an unlocked back door, they slipped through without anyone at the wiser.

There was a stairway that led back down to the town, their feet tumbled into a back alley. Hermione looked at Y/n as she looked up and down the small back street.

Hermione could feel her pulse point thumping against the skin of her neck. Her body felt like it was on fire. Her mind was screaming for something they couldn't do here.

Kisses. Touches. Love.

"Y/n" Hermione whispers desperately as the captain pulls her down to the crossroads, their hands squeeze for a moment.

"Yes?" Y/n replies as they look up and down the street, it is still pretty empty, but it won't be for long now that the sun is beginning to peak over the horizon.

"We have to get back to the ship" Hermione says as Y/n pulls her quickly down the street, they could see the crow's nest of the Morrigan, its black flag waved them home over the rooftops.

"Don't worry Princess, I'll get us to safety" Y/n chuckled as they sped through the alleyways and behind businesses.

Suddenly Hermione yanked her back, and Y/n stumbled backward, running into the brick wall behind a barber shop. The sun now peaked out enough to shine a sharp shadow just under Hermione's eyes.

Her irises shined like cinnamon under a lantern.

The Captain's breath got caught in her throat, their eyes caught in a gaze that was just pure yearning.

"My captain...you've done it" Hermione whispers as she kisses the corner of the sailor's mouth, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Done what?"

Hermione let her lips trail down Y/n's jaw, her teeth nipped and brushed against the sensitive skin, she seemed to be fighting back to urge to bite.

"You've finally broken my stance. My feet are no longer dug in the ground. I want you. I need you.

Y/n grasped the royals hips, nails digging slightly into her skin, but she didn't mind. She liked it.

"Siren..."

That nickname again. Why did it sound so good coming from her? Where is the 'my' in front of it?

"Yours. If you're going to call me that, at least stake your claim" Hermione whispers as her kisses trail down to the leader's neck. The sun was getting higher in the sky, and the alleyway wasn't going to hide their activities for much longer. They could hear horses, people, and wagons starting to fill the streets.

"Apologies, my siren" Y/n chuckled as she brushed her nose against the princess's cheek, capturing her attention.

A small kiss was shared. It had been their first kiss in months ever since the night they met. Life was going by too quickly already.

Hermione can't let herself live this new adventurous life without taking a chance on the flirty seawoman.

Their eyes met, staring intently at one another as if they could read what the other was thinking.

A loud pop echoed from the docks, causing the girls to widen their eyes. A gunshot. It could be nothing, or their ship is currently a sitting duck.

"We have to go" Y/n says as she grasped Hermione's hand and dashed down to the bay. Another gunshot was heard, their hands squeezed, and nervousness racked through their bodies.

They ran for a few more blocks until they reached the harbor, a large group of civilians stood at the seam between the wood and earth. They murmured to themselves as yelling was heard from one of the Weasley twins.

"You sir, are as attractive as the underside of my sack!"

"That's rude. Are you saying my sack is ugly too?"

"We're not that identical Freddie"

Y/n squeezes through the crowd, and Hermione follows suit as their hands drop from one another's.

The whole police force was standing guard around the ship. Their own vessels making their way towards the Morrigan.

They didn't have much time. Soon they would be surrounded. Y/n turned to Hermione and leaned down to whisper her in ear.

"Swim to the other side of the ship and climb up the ladder. Hide in our living quarters." she says in such hushed tones, that Hermione almost missed it.

"What? No-"

"Hermione. This isn't the time to argue. Please."

The Princess looked at her, forgetting for a moment that they were surrounded by more danger that she wouldn't truly realize until later.

"Alright"

Y/n pushed her back into the crowd and turned toward the swarm of officials, a drip of anxiousness fell into her stomach, but she just flexed and loosened her hand before walking towards them.

Hermione sped toward another strip of dock and climbed down the ladder that sunk into the cold water.

"Fuck!" she whisper as goosebumps raised over her skin, her clothes moved within the water as she swam to the other side of the ship. Pansy was already waiting for her, almost like she expected her to come this way.

Did Y/n already get back on the ship?

As her hands grabbed the ladder that was carved into the side of the ship, another gunshot went off, causing Pansy to look over her shoulder.

Yelling and clanks of swords started to grow, Pansy looked back at Hermione and widened her eyes.

"Come on!" she yells as she holds out her hand.

Hermione climbed quickly as she grasped the raven-haired girl's hand, getting yanked onto the deck of the ship.

Water dripped onto the wood as she watched as a few of the boys blocked the boardwalk from letting law enforcement get on the ship.

Pansy grasped Hermione's forearm and pulled her into the captain's quarters, she could hear a few Colony men calling her name. They asked if she was 'okay'.

Okay?

She'll be 'okay' once her Captain is in her view again.

Hermione was left in the room, the door locked behind her as the sound of fighting got even louder.

Water continued to fall from her clothes, her body shivered from the cool air. She listened intently as she grabbed the sword mounted above Y/n's cot.

Hermione pointed it at the door, her breath steady as she leaned against the captain's desk. Y/n had taught her how to fight, how to fire a gun, how to sword fight.

But, Y/n swore to her that she wouldn't let those skills ever be used by her while she was still breathing.

Now, Hermione had no idea if her protector was even alive. She looked over her shoulder a moment, they were moving.

She scrambled to the window in front of her desk, watching as bodies lay in the water and dock. None she recognized, but she couldn't see past the lawmen who still stood on the wooden pathway.

Fighting was still ongoing out on the deck, she turned back towards the door, almost like she thought someone would have snuck into the room without alerting her.

There was no one.

Her eyes flew back to the window, there were two Brigantine ships from the Continental Army following after them at full mast.

Hermione crumbled. She hides under her superior's desk. Tears clouded her eyes as she kept the sword at her side.

She felt herself go back to being a scared little girl. The one she hated. The one that almost made her stay back to live a miserable life.

Cannon fire started to fly past the ship, making her cry harder as she hugged her knees.

The princess felt like the little girl who cried when she thought her life would never be the same when the volcano had killed more than half her kingdom.

What a sorry excuse for a 'pirate'.

——————

Hours had passed. Y/n stood on the deck as they escaped through the dense patch of fog that headed out further into the ocean.

They were safe. No one was lost or injured. The Captain let out a sigh of relief as she stood next to Draco at the wheel.

"Once we're out of this fog, head east" she mumbles as she placed his grey bandanna back on his head and held her hat in her hand.

"Aye-Aye" he replied as Y/n walked back onto the main deck and watched as Ron and Harry tossed the dead bodies overboard, praying for forgiveness quietly.

Y/n sighed again as she walked towards her quarters, Pansy unlocked it for her and handed the key back.

The Captain thanked her softly as she walked in and closed the door. She looked around for her royal passenger but didn't find her. Panic.

"Hermione?" Y/n called out as she started to check every corner. Did someone take her?

Impossible! The door was locked-

"Here"

Her voice was soft, too soft for Y/n's liking. She walked around her desk and noticed the sword next to a curled-up Hermione.

Y/n slowly moved her chair and sat down on the floor, looking at her with a soft smile. She noticed the red dryness in her eyes, and a part of the Captain's heart chipped because of it, she pushed away the sword.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asks as Hermione looks over at her, resting her head against her knees.

"Yes"

Y/n sighed softly as she scooted under the desk, forcing Hermione to laugh softly as she was smooshed against the wood.

"We're nothing not both going to fit!" She says as Y/n is still halfway peeking out from the small space.

"You're right" the Captain hums as she thinks for a moment before pulling Hermione onto her lap and scooting completely under the desk.

"Y/n!" Hermione whispers with a laugh as she grasps the front of her superior's shirt, her face going back into the girl's shoulder like it did in the library.

"There! We can be gloomy together!" She chuckled as Hermione relaxed against her, feeling her hands travel up and down her back.

It's quiet for a while, only the creaking of the ship is heard as they sit under that desk. Hermione's hand landed on the space below Y/n's ear, her fingernails gently scratching the baby hairs on the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry" she whispers as her nose brushed against the other side of Y/n's neck.

"Sorry? For what?"

"Hiding"

Y/n pinched her brows in confusion. This was a common response when something like this happened. Also, this was Hermione's first real brush with death. They hadn't been in any danger while Hermione had been with them.

The crew called her a good luck charm. Y/n had to now agree after seeing how they escaped by the skin of their teeth.

"I told you to hide" Y/n whispers as the ship rocks back and forth. She placed her foot on the side of the desk to stop them from moving too much, but that only seemed to press Hermione against her even more as Y/n's knee took up more of the limited space.

"I'm part of this crew-" Hermione started as her legs straddled the sides of Y/n's waist.

"And I'm the captain. I gave you an order and you did exactly what I asked" she replied as they looked at one another.

"Y/n-"

"Siren"

Hermione sighed and laid her forehead against hers, she knew there was no use fighting the stubborn girl. That stupid nickname also quieted her down fairly easily as well.

"Why won't you just let me wallow in self-pity and hatred" Hermione sighed as Y/n just chuckled softly and kissed her cheek.

"Because you're not a pirate, you're an adventurer! There's a difference" Y/n explains as Hermione kisses her cheek back, and just hums in dissatisfaction.

"There really isn't," she says as Y/n presses her lips against the girl's jaw, causing a shiver to run down her spine again.

"Just listen to your dear old Cap, okay?" Y/n hums as Hermione sighs, but nods anyways. There was really no use in arguing.

"Fine...but I'm going to wallow for a bit more" Hermione says as she tries to get out from under the desk, but Y/n quickly pulls her back.

"No, no, no, no" she whines as she buries her face against the princess's neck. Hermione flushed as she was (happily) held captive by her leader.

This was the ruthless Captain that took a princess and stole more money than she would ever need...

That same Captain was now begging the said Princess to stay cuddled up under her desk...it was like night and day.

"I have to figure out where we are, and where we should go next," Hermione says as Y/n groans unhappily and hugs her once last time.

"Fine, fine...how about a kiss for the road since we were so rudely interrupted earlier" she says with a devilish grin, but Hermione just rolls her eyes as she pulls away from her leader's grasp and stands up.

"The moment is gone, but nice try Captain" Hermione chuckled as she grabbed the map from her desk and walked away.

"Siren!"

Y/n was left alone as she sat under her desk with an unhappy huff.

——————

It was now late into the night, the ship groaned softly as they sailed through a small rainstorm. Y/n lay on her cot as Hermione slept on her own in the corner on the other side of the room.

Y/n's eyes burned into the ceiling as she thought about what had happened this morning. So close. So close to showing her favorite Royal how much she'd crumble without her.

Hermione was also awake. Her own gaze locked on the wall in front of her as she kept her back towards Y/n, afraid to somehow show how much she had been replaying their encounter from this morning.

Her thighs squeezed together for a moment as a certain fantasy flashed through her mind. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Damn, that sultry captain!

Hermione slowly sat up, turning her body towards Y/n, who was still staring at the ceiling.

"Y/n" Hermione whispers, to which the Captain immediately looks at her with a raised eyebrow. The Princess had to grasp the bedsheets to stop herself from entirely running over to her in a pathetic, desperate, needy nature.

She was better than that.

"You...you are the Devil in disguise, aren't you?" Hermione asks as Y/n smirks and sits up in her own cot, her arms placed behind her to hold up the top half of her body.

"The Devil? That's high praise coming from you" the Captain replied as her eyes dragged around Hermione's body, causing the brunette to puff her chest out of nervousness.

"Most consider that an insult"

"Are you saying it with disdain?"

"...no"

Y/n chuckled softly as Hermione stood up and hid her flushed face in the darkness of the room, but she knew Y/n could sense her anxiousness.

"Why with the sudden compliment, my Siren?" Y/n asks as her gaze follows the girl's silhouette as it moves around their desks and stops only a few feet away. Fucking nickname.

"You know why" Hermione replies as she sits down on Y/n's desk, her legs crossed over the other.

Y/n stood up from her cot and slowly walked toward Hermione, her footsteps were quiet, but it still made an impact between them.

Hermione felt her heart begin to pound against her ribcage, the twilight of the night hiding the passion both of them stared at one another with. The navigator made the first move, her hand reaching out as her legs uncrossed.

Y/n felt herself be guided by a gentle tug of the front of her shirt, her hands landing on the wood on either side of Hermione's thighs.

"If we do this, it won't be just a forgotten night to me" Y/n whispers as her hips spread Hermione's legs apart, a soft breath was taken by the brunette. Their faces were a few inches apart, and a moonlight-filled backdrop spilled through the window behind Hermione.

Enough light came through for the Princess to see Y/n's eyes. They were filled with something she used to think was just flirtation. What she thought was simple teasing from her leader.

No. It was devotion.

Y/n didn't just want her for a night of passion, she wanted her for every moment they could have together.

"I know" Hermione whispers back as her hands grasp the side of Y/n's face and pull her in for a kiss.

When their lips touched once again since earlier in the morning, a burning warmth filled their chests. Y/n's hands grasped Hermione's waist, her fingertips pressing down enough to hold her still.

Their bodies pressed closer as they chased after kisses, both not wanting to give up the heaven-like feeling that their emotions poured out silently.

Hermione nightgown was making her feel confined. It was an obstacle she hadn't thought was going to annoy her so much.

Off. It needed to be off. Now.

"Y/n" Hermione whispered as she felt the euphoric kisses start to trail down her jaw, then to her neck.

"Shhhh..." Y/n hushed against her skin as she moved careful hands down Hermione's nightgown, they landed on the space between her knees and the hem of her clothing.

The brunette gave a ragged breath again, her head bobbing back as she placed her elbows down on the desk below her. Y/n leaned down with her as she softly teased the skin of Hermione's neck with a playful bite.

Y/n's hands slowly grazed up her thighs, slipping under the nightgown as once again, another sharp breath was taken by Hermione.

It sounded as if she was having the wind knocked out of her by her sailor's simple touch. A moan escaped her lips as she felt Y/n massage her thighs tenderly.

Hermione took one of her hands and brought Y/n's face up to hers, sharing a kiss that had her heart squeezing and punching out of her chest.

Slowly her undergarments were pulled away from her hips, falling to her ankles. This was it. She was giving herself to the woman who took her away from her miserable life.

But Y/n suddenly stopped, looking at Hermione with a small bit of hesitance laced in her stare. The brunette grasped her face and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"What is it?" she whispers, a pang of anxiety shot through her stomach. Did she read this wrong? Did she read everything wrong?

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Y/n asks quietly, to which Hermione's eyes widen as she immediately nods her head.

"Yes. Yes, please say you want the same" Hermione whispers as she kisses Y/n's nose, feeling the girl's head vibrate as she chuckles.

Hermione didn't like how desperate she sounded, but then again, she didn't think she could explain her want any better.

"I do" Y/n replied as their lips touched again.

The former royalty couldn't take it anymore. She needed to feel Y/n on her skin. The heat from her nightgown was suffocating. Maybe it was just in her head, but she didn't care.

"Darling, please" Hermione begged softly when their lips parted, she felt Y/n's fingertips trailing up and down the paths between her thighs and stomach.

Y/n smirked as she helped Hermione out of the thin fabric, watching as the girl's body seemed to relax as the cold air hit it. Her back arched as her ribs showed from under her skin, every deep breath protruded her breasts for Y/n.

Hermione felt Y/n kiss her collarbone as she shredded her own clothes, kicking them somewhere behind her.

Their skin touched like fire to ice, if Hermione could see better in the dark, she wouldn't be surprised to find steam clouding up the room.

"Hermione" Y/n whispered as her forehead rested on the brunette, capturing her attention immediately.

"You're more than a navigator to me" she says.

Hermione knew what this truly meant. Y/n has never been good at showing her feelings in a detailed way, but that just meant Hermione learned the secrets behind every sentence she uttered.

"You've always been more than a Captain" she replies quietly as her arms wrap around Y/n's neck, pulling her down for another kiss.

She could feel Y/n's hands run along the insides of her thighs, causing her to shiver as a result. This was heaven on earth. There can't be anything better than this, and if there is, then it has to be because Y/n is in that moment too.

Y/n's hand crept closer and teased Hermione's folds, tracing them with her fingertips as the poor brunette shivered with every touch.

Hermione's lips found solace on Y/n's chest, letting her touch slowly glide over her lover's sensitive bud. To hear a soft moan leave the Captain's throat was like listening to a holy choir, and Hermione couldn't get enough.

Her breath hitched as Y/n's two slender fingers sunk into her slowly, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She arched her back, silently begging for more. Y/n's fingers moved skillfully, her every movement producing a dirty groan from Hermione's mouth.

"Yes" she breathed as she kissed Y/n's neck, feeling her pulse point bumping against her tongue.

As their bodies moved with a rhythm only they could create, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at the way Y/n's touch ignited her body. Every brush of their skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through her veins, leaving her breathless and craving for more.

She could feel Y/n's fingers slowly pumping within her, spreading her deliciously and methodically.

Y/n's lips explored every inch of Hermione's body, leaving a trail of wet kisses along her neck, collarbone, and down to her chest. The gentle graze of Y/n's teeth on her sensitive skin made Hermione gasp, her nails digging into Y/n's back as she arched with pleasure.

"My Captain, please-" Hermione begged, wanting the agonizingly slow pace to end. Her legs spread more silently submitting to anything she had to offer her body.

Y/n kissed farther down her body, leaving a few marks in her wake as she went down further. She felt Hermione's hands grasp her hair, pushing her closer to the neglected bud that was waiting to be touched.

Hermione stared at the ceiling as she felt her lover's slick tongue glide against her clit, making her back arch and her head hand off the other edge of the desk.

"Oh fuck" she moans as her hands held Y/n's head in place. Her eyes were blurry as she looked out the window, watching as the moonlit water was now upside down from her position.

Their passion intensified, creating an undeniable chemistry that seemed to consume the room. Y/n's fingers moved slightly faster, causing the dirty sounds of Hermione's entrance to get louder in their shared room.

The brunette felt her body tremble for a split second as Y/n began to suck on her sensitive nerve. Her moans got more frequent as she felt Y/n's other hand reach up and play with her chest. Light pulling and flicking.

"This...this can't be...possible" Hermione gasped out as her mind tried to wrap around the indescribable pleaser three parts of her body were experiencing simultaneously.

Every touch, every whisper, brought her closer to a blissful climax that only Y/n could make her reach. Her body started to shake as she tried to raise her head to look at her Captain, but it was no use.

"So close" Hermione moaned as her nails dug into Y/n's scalp, but the sailor paid it no mind as her mouth nibbled on the bundle in front of her. They melted into each other, becoming one entity in the darkness as their bodies quivered in unison.

Y/n's fingers quickened again, sending more pleasure through Hermione's body. She could feel her peak getting closer with every thrust.

Hermione's mind was consumed by a whirlwind sensation as Y/n's skilled fingers continued their rhythmic dance against her body. Every touch, every stroke, sent waves of pleasure cascading through her. Her skin burned with an electrifying heat that seemed to ignite every nerve ending.

As Y/n's mouth expertly explored the most sensitive part of her, Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. The sailor's lips were like velvet against her skin, teasing and tantalizing her with every flick of the tongue. It was as if Y/n possessed an innate understanding of Hermione's desires, knowing exactly how to push her to the edge of ecstasy and back again.

In the darkness surrounding them, time seemed to stand still. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, synchronized in a dance of passion and desire. Their moans mingled together, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the room.

Hermione's grip on Y/n's hair tightened, her nails leaving faint crescent marks on the sailor's scalp. The pain mixed with pleasure, heightening the intensity of their connection. They were lost in each other, their identities merging into one as they reveled in the raw, unfiltered pleasure they shared.

Y/n's fingers quickened their pace, driving Hermione closer to the edge. Every thrust brought her closer to that blissful climax she yearned for. Her body trembled under the weight of her mounting desire, aching for release.

The world outside their bubble of pleasure ceased to exist. There was only Hermione and Y/n, two souls entwined in a passionate embrace. The rest of the world faded away, leaving them to bask in the intense pleasure that consumed them.

And then, with one final surge of sensation, Hermione's body shattered like glass, her release crashing over her in a tidal wave of pure bliss. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, leaving her gasping for breath as she rode the waves of ecstasy.

Her body trembled and jolted as he bit back a scream of pleasure, a part of her didn't need the relentless teasing from Pansy the following morning.

But, that was quickly thrown out the window when Y/n kept up her attack. Hermione felt her lover's hand leave her chest and pin her stomach down.

Hermione was squirming from the overstimulation, her body instinctively trying to release herself from Y/n's mouth and fingers.

Yet, the Captain wasn't letting her escape that easily.

Gasps and moans slipped from Hermione's mouth as her nails dug into the forearm that was pinning her down around her stomach.

"Ah!" she hissed out as her thighs continued to shake. This was Y/n's ruthless side coming out, her selfishness that only happened during intense moments.

She wanted more from Hermione and the brunette could do nothing but happily oblige.

Her fingers disappeared, causing the Princess to finally raise her head, their eyes met as Y/n placed her other hand onto the girl's hip to keep her in place.

"What are you-"

As soon as Y/n's tongue slipped past her entrance, she crumbled back into a moaning mess. Her arms shook as she held up the top half of her body, her chest rose and fell rapidly with every brush within her.

It wouldn't be long until she peaked again.

"My love, please" Hermione begged as she ran her fingers through Y/n's hair, their eyes never breaking contact.

The night went on like this, climax after climax was given to the princess with barely any breaks in between.

The morning began to break when Y/n was finally satisfied with her work and took Hermione to her cot. They lay together as Y/n held her tightly in her arms, kissing the back of her neck comfortingly as Hermione tried to calm down.

As they lay tangled in each other's arms, their bodies glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, Hermione turned in her embrace and looked up at Y/n, whispering softly.

"You've become my anchor, my safe haven."

Y/n smiled, tracing patterns on Hermione's bare skin.

"And you're the compass that guides me, Hermione. With you, I've found a love that transcends any better pleasure out there."

They shared a soft smile as another kiss was shared. Then another. And another.

In that moment, there was no doubt that their love would navigate any storm, no matter how fierce. Together, they were unstoppable, destined for a lifetime of passion, adventure, and unending love.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff #smut

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