#i need to stop self projecting onto her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

biibini · 4 months

Text

modern!mizu pt2 sfw + nsfw

a/n: brain continues to rot 😵‍💫 i thought i would focus more on ur relationship w mizu & ur dynamic with her

note: nsfw at the bottom!

ok so ab u two hehe

sfw ☆

modern!mizu gets into a playful mood w u from time to time

usually when she gets bored from hw or takes a break after coming back from the gym, she’ll come out of the zone and bother u

she loves to press ur buttons especially when it’s the two of u alone

modern!mizu is a tease. next headcannon.

“Mizu. Stop.”

“Stop? What would I be stopping?” she would say in a teasing manner.

“You know what I mean-“ you say as she continues to squish your face with her left hand. A small but undeniable smirk starts forming on her face.

however, when u are both out, she’ll keep the teasing to a minimum

at least tries to (the voices r strong but shes stronger most of the time)

her hand might just slip down by ur waist and squeeze it at times to get a little reaction or gasp out of u

(but that’s an idea for me to elaborate on later)

modern!mizu prefers u to hold her arm than her hand

she’ll take either but she feels more secure knowing ur holding onto her

she def likes it when u lightly squeeze her arms to stay close

modern!mizu likes joining in on ur care routine before going to sleep (this is kinda nsfw)

at first, she was curious as to what products u were using on ur face

she initially saw the facial ice roller as a new toy ngl

it’s not one of her proudest moments

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You were in the bedroom finding your pajamas, not even guessing what she would ask you next

“You bought a new toy?” Mizu yells from the bathroom.

“I did?”

She comes out with your facial ice roller in hand.

“Baby-“ you start speaking.

“I mean I know you said you wanted to test out temperatures in bed one time but…”

“Miz-“

“Just how… exactly do we use this? I know this part is the handle but where does the ice go?” she asks as she holds the handle sideways, staring at the product and analyzing its usage.

You start to giggle a little as you take the roller out of her hands.

“I’m being serious. How does it work?”

“Mizu, it’s for my face.”

She starts blanking out as you begin to roll the cold icy part on your cheeks.

“It’s supposed to help with puffiness.”

“Oh…”

self care along with her nightly tea became a comforting ritual in her bedroom

she was intrigued by the amount of skincare products u own

it’s not a lot (jk)

mizu totally didn’t build a whole shelf for ur products (she made sure it fit everything)

modern!mizu is ur guinea pig, and vice versa (sorta)

if u wanted to try a new product, she would try it with u

if she had a new creation/projected she needed to test out, u would be the second person she would call to check on production

u used to be the first until the “incident”

one time she called u in at the dead hour of 2 AM to come to the auto-shop and see her creation

it was a makeshift turbine for a solo project and all u had to do was turn it on to low fan speed

u ended up turning it on the highest speed somehow and broke the fragile engine

mizu froze as she watched her project get quickly chopped up by the fan

however she starts running to push u away and protect u when the fan starts hurling towards ur direction

u end up finding out she mislabeled the fan speed and made the “lowest” setting the highest setting

worried that she would put u in danger again, she asks taigen or ringo to test her new projects

she continues to be a guinea pig with ur skincare products and cooking

(ill make this vary depending on reader’s skills)

if ur not a rlly good cook, u and mizu can make two halves meet and collaborate on cooking together

u would probably ask ringo to help u out more than mizu admits to (it’s for the better and safety of the apartment)

if u are a good cook, she’ll be a bit more confident and step up as ur sous chef

she jokingly calls u “yes chef” as she gives u a kiss on ur cheek

one day, u bought a chef hat and started prepping dinner before mizu got back from the gym

You hear the front door open and the small ring of the jingle bell Ringo put on the handle.

“Y/N? Ringo?” Mizu yells as she puts down her bag.

“In here!” You yell from the kitchen. You fix your newly bought chef hat to match Mizu’s little running bit.

“Hey what are you coo-“ Mizu stops to look at what you’re wearing.

Some slippers, one of her shirts, and a chef hat. Oh my god. You turn to look at her with a smile.

“What is… that?“ She says, gawking at the hat.

“You like what I bought?”

“Yes but I wasn’t expecting a whole chef hat.” Mizu says as gives you a quick hug from behind and a little “hello” kiss on your cheek.

“You mean ‘Yes chef’?” You say teasingly.

“Haha very funny…”

You stare at her, pausing your cooking as you wait for the right words to be spoken out. She looks back and sighing in defeat.

“Yes chef.” She says as you giggle at her defeated tone, continuing to tend to dinner.

modern!mizu will chop and prep for u

give her a knife and a chopping board

ask and u will receive

random thought but she will tough out the onions

when she first starts her sous chef journey, she would always chew gum

she never realized that she could avoid onion tears with this method until she tried it

game changer !!

trust her w the onions. always.

modern!mizu enjoys dates out with u but the best dates are done at home, cuddling and watching netflix

u guys def have movie/tv show nights

maybe even experiment in cooking dinners

it’s peaceful and quiet (besides ringo joining in occasionally most of the time)

cuddling and relaxing after long school days resets both of u

mizu esp loves it when u both are under the covers and she can feel u doze off

it makes her a little sleepy too

As the second to final episode of your show comes to an end, Mizu checks up on you. She finds you, eyes closed & softly breathing.

“Y/N” she whispers while slowly unwrapping the blanket covering you two.

“Uh hm…” you say as you try and grip onto the blanket, it’s warmth escaping you. A light chuckle comes out of Mizu.

She successfully takes off the blanket, laying it to hang on the couch. She makes a mental reminder to fix it before she leaves for the gym tomorrow. You on the other hand are slowly waking up and walking to the bedroom, still holding her hand.

“C’mon now, let’s get to bed.”

You simply nod as she brings you to the bedroom to continue your sleep. She’ll catch you up on what you missed when you dozed off the following day.

modern!mizu would sleep on her back

it’s best to relieve lower back pain after learning from her adopted dad

so she’s adapted the same habit as him

when it comes to cuddling, she wraps her arm around you as she dozes off

if u wanted (or she wanted) to spoon, she would initially be the big spoon

however, the more u get into ur relationship, the more she switches over to being the little spoon

the feeling of ur hands wrapped around her as you both doze off is comforting

big spoon does stay on top though

it gives her access to… places

nsfw ♥︎

yk how i said in the first modern!mizu that she was touchy (and here too)

modern!mizu needs to hold or touch u whenever u guys are doing it

ur face, hands, shoulder, waist, hips, thighs

anywhere basically

she loves giving ur hips a squeeze while guiding u through the motions

when she’s making out with u, she lovesss to cup ur face or hold ur waist closer to u with her hands

when eating u out, u cannot escape

those gym seshes come in clutch

her arms will wrap around ur thighs and will not let u go

“Be good for me, will ya?” Mizu says, her breath only a few inches away from your heat.

You can only nod as you let your legs succumb to her arms. There’s no use fighting against them. You’ve tried and failed many times.

she would also hold onto ur hips if ur on top

she loves the control she would have on ur hips while u bounce up and down on her strap on

if not ur hips, she would give ur ass a squeeze as u continue to be riding her

modern!mizu always loves to leave a little mark

she knows how sensitive u can be around ur neck and loves to leave at least one, maybe two

if not there, then definitely around ur breasts

no one’s going to see them (most of the time)

she loves doing it especially when ur stimulated below by her fingers that are slowly yet deeply thrusting into ur wet insides

it would overstimulate u

but it would be so fun to see her lovely girl crumble little by little by her fingers and mouth

modern!mizu will do anything to hear ur voice

when she’s making out w u and hears a moan escape from ur lips, she’s so ready

ur moans escaping from ur lips while she eats u out is the best melody she’s ever heard

she gets lost indulging in ur noise that she would have to double check if anyone else is home before continuing

if ur moans gets louder when she goes faster, she will keep that pace up until ur a mumbling mess

so ab her being a tease earlier

modern!mizu likes to tease, especially when ur close

“Is my Y/N getting close?” she coos as she continues to thrust into you.

You were already overstimulated with how much she has done with you that night. From making out to practically squirting on her fingers earlier, your mind was a mess. As she thrust into you, all you could do was nod and moan as she hit a deeper spot.

“That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

You mumbled a yes and nodded. She heard you. But was it a spoken answer? Not exactly to Mizu.

She slows her pace down and looks to see your reaction: fucked out, dazed, and is practically begging for more.

“Mizu, please.”

“Please what?”

She grinds once to hear another moan come out. You continue to lose it as you start to bounce up and down on her strap, finding the spot again.

“Please fuck me more.” you answer.

She grinned as she watch you continue to move your hips up and down on her. Who knew you could still have the energy after all?

However, Mizu wasn’t done toying with you. She wants to hear your exact words.

“Fuck you how much more?” She says slyly as her hips start to slowly match your pace. You get silent as you find the right angle.

“Deeper. Much deeper.”

“Oh yeah?” she answers breathily, lining her hands with your waist as she searches for the deep spot.

A loud moan escaped your lips. Bingo.

“Good girl.” she calls as she continues her deep thrusts into you, coming once again.

hands down, making you speak while you’re fucked out is the favorite way to tease u

i cannot exaggerate how ur moans get her off

it’ll always be in the back of her mind while she continues to mess w u

it’s basically an obsession

hearing her lover practically crumble from her is her favorite part of teasing u

#mizu x reader #mizu x y/n #mizu x you #mizu headcanons #headcanon #mizu bes #bes mizu #bes x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes #mizu come home the kids miss you

448 notes · View notes

minimickzy · 7 months

Text

Oh My God || Hazel Callahan

Listen- I believe in loser hazel and I find her to be perfect- I know this isn't my best fic but I've been in serious bottoms brain rot

dialog prompts:

"Hold my hand" "Absolutely not"

Characters: Hazel Callahan x Reader, the whole club

Word count: 2359

Hazel Callahan was your mortal enemy. Did she know? Probably not. It was honestly beside the point. Because what mattered was that bitch seemed to have it out for you since the start of high school. First, it was taking your topic for a history project. Whatever- no big deal. Then all the “accidents” spilling coffee on your backpack (she had given you money for a new one but still), tripping you in the walkways, and hitting you in the face with a volleyball (multiple times). After that, she got the better parking spot for senior year, and finally, the great big plump cherry on top, she took the lunch table you had practically reserved since freshman year.

At the end of the day, the whole ordeal may be a bit over-dramatic… but that table was perfect. In the corner, you could either hide or have a great undisturbed lunch with your friends. Hazel had sat there one day with Josie and PJ. which was weird in itself because they never had eaten in the cafeteria before and you didn't even remember them being friends.

For how much you didn't care about Hazel Callahan- she sure took a lot of your attention.

If anyone else had done any of those things- you probably wouldn’t have thought anything about it. But this was Hazel Callahan who despite your best efforts you could not stop crushing on.

The stolen table was a very recent development. As in on Monday and it was now Wednesday. You sat at the next best table with Sylvie and Krystal, watching as Hazel feverishly wrote something in her notebook as PJ seemed to make a grandiose speech.

She had no right to look that attractive while sitting in your spot. You groaned and face-planted into your crossed arms on the table.

“Are you good dude?” You rolled your head to the side to look at Sylvie and then let out another frustrated groan.

“Everything is awful and I hate it here.”

Krystal patted your back while Silive sighed, “You know what you need?”

“Hmm?”

“To hit something.”

You laughed from inside your arm fortress, “Okay Sylvie- what should I hit? A fucking tree? Jeff? A Huntington player?”

“No, you should join the fight club! It’s for women empowerment- I’m trying to train up to deal with my stepdad ya know?”

You lifted your head and gave your friend a questioning look. “Fight club? For women empowerment?”

Sylvie and Krystal both nodded excitedly.

“When and Where?”

----------------------------------------------

Of fucking course.

When you walk in behind Krystal and Sylvie to the gym, the first person you see is Hazel.

Your body immediately fills with rage. At this point, it’s starting to feel like you're more angry at yourself for crushing on someone you barely even know. But you believe in self-love so you plan to continue projecting your anger onto someone else.

Everyone was milling about and chatting, you left your bag on the bleachers by everyone else’s and followed your friends to the middle of the gym.

Stella-Rebecca caught your eye and waved, which you gladly returned before PJ stomped as hard as possible on the floor to get everyone's attention.

“What time is it?!” She screamed and was answered by a chorus of “3:15”s

“That’s right you sluts! It’s time to get down and dirty!”

You couldn't help the look of mild disgust that passed across your features. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. After al, Sylvie made some seriously questionable choices- you thought you could trust Krystal though.

“Alright cunts- who wants to start us of-” PJ started by being cut off by Hazel who whispered something to her and then directed PJ’s attention onto you with a point of her pen. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” PJ gave you an unimpressed look which made you roll your eyes.

“I can leave if this is a closed cl-” You started to point behind you to the door but Josie stopped you by waving her hands

“No- no you're more than welcome. PJ just gets a little into it- you know flashbacks to juvie and all that.” Josie gives a reassuring (and awkward) smile.

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Cool.” out of the corner of your eye you could see Hazel giving Josie a thumbs up.

“Well, Since you’re fresh blood let's see what you got,” PJ says while smiling at you.

“Okay,” you shrug. “I really don’t know what I’m doing though so don’t expect much.”

PJ just brushes you off, “Don’t worry. It’s mostly just instinct.”

You nod and step into the center of the circle of girls. Okay, maybe this was a stupid fucking idea.

“Let's see…” PJ looks around the circle, trying to decide who to pair you up with. “Hazel- why don’t you hop in.”

Hazel looks nervous, but she still nods and enters the ring, giving you a small smile and nod.

You look at her blankly, “Now what?” you ask.

“Now you hit each other.” PJ claps her hands together, “Fucking beat each other the fuck up!”

“What-” You can’t finish your question because Hazel deals a hard hit right to your gut. “Fuck!” you double over in shock before gathering yourself again. “What the fuck.”

Hazel looks a little confused but motions to herself, “Hit me now- that's how this works.”

You give her the best “what the fuck” look you can convey before settling into a fighting stance. You thought there'd be a little lead-up or something.

You swung and got in a decent hit to the side of Hazel's face. It left a stinging sensation on your knuckles but you tried to shake it off.

The two of you exchanged a few more punches and kicks back and forth before Hazel managed to catch you completely off guard and-

BAM

Your ass hit the ground hard. “Fuck!” you couldn't help the curse from leaving your lips. You let yourself unfurl onto the ground and stared at the ceiling. The girls around you clapped as you tried to catch your breath.

“Good fight,” Hazel said, reaching one of her hands out towards you on the ground.

You just looked at her, “Yeah. Good...” Suddenly your head hurt a lot more than it did a minute ago. “Fight.” This was definitely a stupid fucking decision. Maybe this is what killed you. RIP the girl who got her lights knocked out but the girl who was both the love and hate of her life.

You tried to sit up but the world was kinda spinning.

“Hazel, how hard did you hit her?” Josie asked as she joined Hazel looking down at you. Hazel looked like a lost puppy.

“I didn’t think it was that hard- are you okay.”

You laughed not handling the embarrassment of the situation well, “I am so good actually.” You went to stand up but stumbled before your legs gave out putting you back on the floor.

Hazel tried to grab at your hand to help you up but you retracted your hand on instinct. “Hold my hand.”

“Absolutely not.”

Silvie barked out a laugh- “damn rejected!”

Hazel looked at you- her big blue eyes filling with hurt. Fuck. You didn't want to have to see those sad puppy dog eyes. You took hold of her hand and let her pull you up. If you thought the world was spinning when you were sitting, now it was like you were on a tilt-a-whirl. “Shit.” you couldn't keep yourself upright and leaned into Hazel so you didn't fall back to the ground.

“Uh- I’m gonna take her to get some water.” Hazel sounded very concerned but you giggled. This was so embarrassing. Not only were you weak in front of your enemy- but also your crush. “Oh my god, I think I broke her!”

PJ scoffed, “You just gave her like a concussion- she’ll be fine.” You nodded to agree with PJ.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god…” Hazel mumbled as she walked you out of the gym.

“I’m so so sorry.” She continued to apologize to all the girl's bathrooms where she propped you against a sink. “I didn’t think I was that strong.” She gathered some paper towels and got them wet, dabbing them to your forehead.

In all honesty, you feel fine now. The dizziness was gone and replaced with a dull ache. But you were kinda enjoying Hazel being all over you.

“It’s fine. Don't worry about it.”

“If you want to hit me I get it- I deserve it.”

You laughed, “Yeah you can say that again.” You needed to practice biting your damn tongue.

“I’m so sorry- I can’t believe I did that- I always do something stupid around you. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard- I just can’t like to focus with you around and I’m sorry-” Hazel continued to ramble and you started to zone out a little before saying the only thing running through your mind.

“You stole my table”

Hazel stopped talking and looked at you. “No, I didn’t”

“Yes, you did.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never stolen anything let alone a table- I don’t even know where I would’ve put-”

“No Hazel, my seat. In the lunch room.”

She just stared at you and blinked.

“You stole my spot- where I have sat every day for the last and you spilled coffee on my backpack and hit me in the face with volleyballs and… and… and now you gave me a concussion with your fists.”

Hazel groaned and moved away from you holding her face in her hands, “Oh my god you must think I hate you.”

“Well yeah!”

Hazel just groaned again. “I just like you.”

“Oh yeah sure- wait- what did you just say?”

“I just like you okay,” She kicks the floor and starts to pout, “You’re just like really cool and like always around and you make me nervous.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know- i’m sorry- I knew you hated me cause of all that stuff”

“Oh my god-”

Hazel made more inhuman nosies as you started to laugh.

“Hazel what the actual fuck- you like me? You like me? For how long?”

Hazel stopped with the noises “I don’t know? Like freshman year? Why?”

“Despite all of the mishaps, and how much they pissed me off- I could not stop crushing on you… since freshman year.”

Hazels jaw literally dropped, “What, no way?”

“Yes way. Why didnt you just like talk to me?”

“Well everytime I did I would somehow manage you hurt you.”

You shook your head and laughed lighty, “thats actually fair, I can’t blame you for that.”

She cracked a bit of a smile, relief from the last few seconds flooding over the both of you.

“This is crazy.”

You laughed, “it is. And to think all it took was you punching me to the ground.”

She groaned, “god I really am sorry-”

“It’s fine- definitely worth it.”

She smiled, “now what?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know- we’ve wasted almost four years it seems like so theres no point in wasting any more.”

She gave you a dopey look and figeted with the rings on her fingers.

“Hazel come here.” She followed your instructions obditally and stood in front of you- close enough that you could feel the gentle wind of her breath.

You placed your hands on her shoulders, not entirely sure the right way to go about this- and maybe this was moving a bit fast and the common sense had gotten knocked out of your head but at this point you were kicking yourself for not making a move over the entrieity of your highschool career.

Her eyes were open, glued to your lips.

“Gotta start making up for all that lost time.” you leaned forward, barley brushing your lips together, when you pulled back Hazel stood completely still with her eyes shut tight. You smiled to yourself. “Do you want to..” Hazel keep her eyes shut but nodded.

You leaned again, this time trying to add in some movement. It was painfully obvious that neither of you really knew what you were doing. Hazel seemed to have a sudden surge in confidence after accidentally (maybe?) bitting your lower lip which drew some type of sound from you. She stepped forward, pushing you aagint the bathroom sink and putting the two of you in a much more intainte position.

Despite the awkwardness and surprise, it felt nice- or good? Something like that. You stopped anazlying everything and instead focused on the fact that their was a very attractive girl running her hands down your back and letting your shirt cover her finger tips as she explored you.

The second you started to thank whatever god was a above that it was after school hours so the building was essentially vacant- the door brust open, followed by two very loud “fuck”s.

Hazel rushed back away from you, her face already blushing a bright pink.

PJ and Josie stood in the doorway- matching faces of shock painting their features.

“No fucking way Hazel is getting puss before us.” PJ rolled her eyes.

“Uh- sorry we just uh- you know- wanted to make sure you were good.” Josie was doing a horrible job hiding her uncomforatbleness as she questioned you with a thumbs up.

You bit your lip to stop from laughing and gave her a thumbs up back, “Doing great in here. Thanks- but if you wouldn’t mind leaving-”

“Oh yeah! Yeah! For sure- we’ll let you two lovebirds get back to it.” Josie did a half bow before turning and pushing PJ out the door.

You laughed as hazel just looked mortified, “we’ll continue this later, I think we should get back to the club though- kinda wanna see you lay some bitchs out.”

She took a deep breath and patted down her shirt, before looking in the mirror and fixing her hair.

You gave her another thumbs up before the two of you left the bathroom to go back to the gym.

----------------------------------------------

Send me requests please 🙈

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms x reader #ruby cruz x reader

817 notes · View notes

not-the-droid · 2 years

Text

Keep You Alive

The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Synopsis: He would burn down the entire galaxy to have you back in his arms.

Warnings: some pretty graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, reference to torture but not described in detail, description of blood, this is angst to the max

Word Count: 1.7k

Request: Hi hi hi. I’ve been needing a heavy angst to happy fluffy ending so badly. Maybe with Din x Y/N ?? Maybe reader gets taken or kidnapped and badly injured and he thinks she’s dead , but of course our fav tin can saves her just in time?? Idk. I wanna cry but also need fluff lolol - anon

The Mandalorian didn’t think he was capable of feeling such pure panic.

When he returned to the Razor’s Crest after a brief pit stop on some outer rim planet, he fully expected to be greeted by you scolding him for being out much longer than he’d promised. Instead, he was met with the metallic smell of blood and the cockpit completely destroyed.

The supplies he held dropped onto the ground in an instant as he called out your name as he searched the ship, praying to the Maker that he was dreaming or hallucinating or anything that would make what he feared had occurred not true.

But you didn’t respond.

Mando returned to the destroyed cockpit after a few more frantic calls of your name. He winced as he noticed a patch of blood, its dark crimson taunting him against the light gray of the Crest’s wall. The front glass was cracked from what he quickly recognized as a blaster shot.

Then he remembered the surveillance footage. In his panic, he had completely forgotten that the Crest had footage being collected at all times, just in case they ended up on some particularly nasty planet where they needed to keep an eye on their surroundings.

He quickly booted up the system on his control panel, his breath catching as a projection of the Crest’s interior from hours before floated in front of him.

His heart tightened in his chest as he watched you walk into the cockpit, peering out the window in search of something.

You. Mando told himself, self-loathing tearing at his soul. She’s checking to see if you’re coming back.

The expression on your face changes, backing away from the window, placing yourself strategically out of view. Mando could hear the loud banging on the Crest’s entrance, watching helplessly as the invader flung it open with ease.

Mando cursed himself for not locking it properly, for being too distracted by wanting to quickly get the supplies and back on the ship.

The intruder stepped into the cockpit, pacing around the room with his blaster at the ready.

“Come out, Mandalorian!” The intruder called, his voice dripping with hatred.

Mando searched the footage for where you were, finally spotting you ducked under the control panel, a small knife gripped between your fingers.

The intruder pointed his blaster toward the window, just above where you were hidden.

The tang of blood filled Mando’s mouth as he bit down on his cheek harshly as the blaster went off, hearing your involuntary gasp at the sudden blast right above you.

Rage flooded Mando’s body as the intruder cocked his head to the side, walking over to where you hid.

“What do we have here?” The intruder asked, his dirty fingers wrapping around your arm to drag you up toward him. “Didn’t know the Mandalorian had himself a little friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spat, hiding the knife behind your back with your free hand.

Mando ground his teeth as the intruder pressed his blaster to your temple. “Now there’s no need for us to get nasty with each other. I’m here for the Mandalorian.”

“He’s not here.” You replied, looking the intruder directly in the eyes, head held high despite the blaster pressed against it. “You’ll have to come back later if you want to talk to him.”

The intruder scoffed. “Oh no, I don’t think there’ll be much talking. No, I’m going to murder your Mandalorian just like he did to my friend.”

Mando watched as your fingers gripped the knife tightly. The intruder let his grip on your arm loosen a bit, allowing you to strike.

The intruder let out a sharp cry of pain as you sliced through the skin of his cheek, leaving a dripping red gash behind as you bolted toward the exit.

Your fingers brushed against the door for a half second before the intruder regained his composure, grabbing you from behind and sending you slamming into the opposite wall.

A mixture of rage and heartache tugged at Mando’s chest at the whimper of pain that escaped you, your fingers touching the wound on the back of your head. Blood covered your fingers as when you pulled them away from your injury.

“You’re gonna pay for that little trick.” The intruder said, pulling you up harshly. He pressed his blaster against your temple once more, his fingers hovering over the trigger. “Now, where is he?”

Mando felt helpless as he watched the projection, wanting desperately to reach out to you. To bash the intruder's head against the cold, hard metal of the Crest before wrapping you safely in his embrace.

The intruder's expression changed after a moment, a sick smile pulling at his lips as he watched you close your eyes, prepared to die before giving up Mando’s whereabouts.

“How about we play a little game with your Mandalorian? Let's see how good of a hunter he is.” The intruder taunted, running his fingers over the skin of your cheek.

Mando shut the protection off, unable to watch as the intruder gagged you with a dirty piece of cloth he ripped from your shirt before dragging you off of the Razor’s Crest.

His gloved fingers shook as he touched the patch of nearly dried blood against the wall. Mando felt his heart pound against his skull, slamming his fist into the cold metal, leaving a deep dent where your blood had stained. A constant reminder to himself that he was the cause of what had happened to you. That he hadn’t been there to stop it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took three days for him to track down where you were being kept.

Three days that the Mandalorian didn't sleep. Three days that he had to force himself to eat and drink for the sole purpose that he would need his strength to return you safely to his arms.

It was the uncertainty that destroyed him. Not knowing if you were alive almost drove him over the edge.

No, he had to believe you were alive. Any other thought made him want to scream until his throat bled. He had given up on crying. That wouldn't rescue you.

Besides, he didn't think he had any tears left.

When he finally arrived at where you were being held, he went into a frenzy the second he heard the heart-wrenching sound of your screams beyond the door. Mando doesn't remember the details. All he knows is that when he arrives at the source of the sound, he won't have to worry about taking anyone down on the way out.

You've gone silent by the time he kicks down the door, dropping to his knees in front of you.

Bruises littered your face and neck, your eyes closed tightly as a bit of blood fell from a seemingly fresh cut on your temple.

He whispered your name, gently wiping the gash with his thumb. Your eyes didn't open, his name falling from your lips sadly.

It finally clicked after a few moments why you weren't responding to him, his heart shattering as he undid your restraints.

You thought you were imagining him. He didn't want to wonder about how many times you had thought he had come to relieve you of your pain, only to realize he wasn't there at all.

“I’m here, (Y/N). I will get you out of here but I need you to open your eyes.” He pleaded, needing to know that you heard him. That you knew he was here.

After a few more pleas, you did as you were told, a tear falling down your cheek as you finally realized he was real.

“Din.” You mumbled, attempting to stand and latch onto him.

“No, I'll carry you. Just hold on.” He replied, gently lifting you securely into his arms.

The intruder stepped into the room, pulling out his blaster the moment he spotted Din.

Din turned his back toward the intruder, shielding you as the blaster fire bounced off the beskar covering his skin. He placed you gently on the ground, your back propped against the wall, before turning toward the intruder, his blaster at the ready.

Light filled the room as Din fired, hitting the intruder square in the chest.

Hatred filled Din’s expression as he walked toward the man, who had fallen to the ground with a loud thud. He watched the intruder’s chest heave up and down, the life draining from his eyes.

“Looks like you have to be a lot quicker than that,” Din said, venom dripping from every word.

The corner of the intruder’s lips cocked up slightly as he looked jst beyond the Mandalorian. The intruder managed to fire one final shot.

Din turned around.

Blood seeped from your side, your hand coming up to cover the wound.

A primal scream left the Mandalorian as he ran toward you, lifting you back up into his arms. He had to get you to a medic. He had to keep you alive.

The sprint to the Razor’s Crest was a blur, his hand pressed atop yours on your side as he carried you. There had to be medics on this planet. There had to be.

“You're gonna be ok.” He repeated as he hovered around the planet in search of a village. A city. Anything.

A small collection of buildings caught his eye, just ahead. He glanced behind him to where you lay, seemingly asleep as your chest rose and fell worryingly slow.

He had to keep you alive.

A few locals approached as he landed. He couldn't speak. All he could do was carry you to them, hoping they would understand as he showed them your still bleeding would.

You were carried off into one of the buildings, Din being blocked from entering. He didn't fight. If they could keep you alive, he would wait in a sandstorm.

It was dark when one of the medics emerged.

“We've managed to stop the bleeding. You're very lucky you arrived when you did.” They explained.

Din fell to his knees. It must have been confusing for the medic, seeing a Mandalorian with his helmet in his hands muttering a string of broken thanks. Din didn't care. You were alive.

He finally composes himself enough to go inside, sighing in relief as he saw you sleeping soundly. Din closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked securely before shedding his helmet and armor.

He slipped into the bed beside you, making sure to stay on the opposite side of your injury. He placed his hand on your chest, your heart beating steadily.

Alive. Din promised himself he was going to make sure you stayed that way. No matter what he had to do.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

pedgito · 2 years

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: reeling from the night before, eddie's mixed signals lead to new revelations and a spontaneous night of activities that you can't help but play along with.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, first kisses and more, skinny dipping, oral (f recieving), handjobs, hair pulling, lots of cute interactions, it's a lot calmer than the first part lol. if i miss any tags pls let me know!

word count: 7.7k ♡ part one, part three

There had been radio silence from Eddie the entire morning.

You shoved the dice in Eddie’s hand when you caught him at lunch, roughly slapping them down into his palm and curling his fingers over them, assuring they were squeezed shut. Eddie’s stricken with a wordless response, staring up at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape—his brain is short function behind those sweet brown eyes, realization settling into him as he thinks back on the night prior, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he swayed you toward an orgasm, all while desperately starving himself from his own.

He watches you sit down, pulling your lunch tray closer to your chest. A baby carrot gripped tightly between your thumb and pointer finger, the crunch deafening in the silence that had fallen over the table. The other side of the problem suddenly dawns on him, pulling your own pair from his jacket pocket, sliding them gently onto the tray, the small clinking grabbing the attention of the entire group.

“I’m sensing some hostility,” Dustin ponders, eyes squinted as he glances between the two of you, “what did he do this time?”

“Huh?” Eddie’s wounded by the accusation, hand pressed to his chest in offense, “Why is it always me?”

“Because, it is always you.” You reply sharply, using the weak plastic fork to stab into the dry spaghetti, twirling the noodles around the utensil but never making the trip to your mouth. It made you want to barf. “Isn’t it?”

“That prank you pulled last year that ruined her science project?” Dustin recalls, watching Eddie’s face fall at the memory.

It was harmless, Eddie had so foolishly assumed, sneaking up behind you one dreary, rainy Monday morning–already frazzled by how soaked your project was– scaring the daylights out of you; thus sending your project, which had taken days—days, you’d told him. Hours of paper mache and labeling, just to get everything right, all ruined in the small span of ten seconds, the sad remnants left to wilt away on the ground. He apologies for a week straight, following you around like some sick puppy, but to no avail. Eventually though, you got over it and it wasn’t hard to forgive him. Still, you would never forget.

Eddie really knew how to get under your skin, through pleasure and pain; the pain of annoyance, to be clear. It wasn’t his voice, or his personality—it was the unbounded lack of self awareness and grandioseness.

“So, what did you do?” Dustin pushes, all of the boys now narrowing in on the both of you.

“Nothing.” It’s simultaneous, both of you glancing up with narrowed eyes, quickly flicking back toward your trays. Eddie shoved a small almond into his mouth, chewing harshly.

“Shit, maybe I was wrong.” Dustin concedes, hands thrown up. “Was it you, then?”

Dustin’s staring at you expectantly, determined to get to the bottom of this obvious tension between you and Eddie—though, you are having none of it.

“Dustin, I’m giving you five second to drop it before I tell this entire table that Suzie said—“

“Okay!” He shouts over you, hands waving around in panic, begging you to stop. “I’ll drop it.”

It’s a low grumble, dejected at how easily he’d been subdued by you; he couldn’t help how head over heels he was for his girlfriend, even talking to you about it in confidence—but you weren’t afraid to use it as armor if need be. Dustin really needed to learn his limits.

Your lunch gets cold, the lingering silence switching from awkward to extremely uncomfortable—you excuse yourself immediately. Eddie, unfortunately, doesn’t follow.

☆.｡.:*

You think about Eddie the rest of the day, despising yourself for it. He couldn’t find the courage to say anything to you, other than a simple nod or acknowledgment your way, despite how often you sought him throughout the day. Was he embarrassed now? You couldn’t find any reason why that would matter, having done what you did willingly.

He’s setting up the table for another campaign session after school that day, the entire trudge of boys piling in behind you, gabbing and talking about their days, all the while, Eddie meandering around silently, placing and displacing certain things. Dustin noticed too, leaning in over your shoulder from your seat—which so happened to be directly across from Eddie’s, traveling the long stretch of the table, you glanced in the direction of the long haired boy, his head turned away from the both of you.

“Did you break him?” It’s a valid question. None of you had ever seen him like this. Ever.

“I told you—I didn’t do anything.” You defend, voice hushed as you look over at your younger friend. “He’s just got a stick up his ass today, he’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.” Dustin sighs, “He’s really gonna go hard with this campaign today, clearly.”

And it’s a stark difference from his usual relaxed demeanor as he directs the narrative, almost harsh in the way he delivers his lines. It’s almost like he’s attempting to rush through, which is unlike him, entirely left field from what you’re used to.

His fingers are curled around the privacy screen setup at his end of the table, eyes glancing up at you every so often. He thinks you don’t notice, but you’re so hyper aware that it’s impossible not to.

“Come on, Gareth—the lemures are dying, there’s no time for leisurely decision making. You either attack or flee.” Eddie demands, eyes scanning over the few of you huddled together, determine your plan of attack.

“Just fucking fireball it,” You suggest, exhausted from how hard your brain was working to follow the campaign, feeling like this was a losing battle from the beginning, “if we die, at least we’ll finally be put out of our misery.”

“Fine, fireball—we’ll fireball him.” Gareth decides, eyes glancing nervously toward you as he rolls. It’s just enough to give you that edge, ultimately defeating the horrible monster Eddie had conjured up—he smiles slightly, but it’s so faint you almost didn’t notice.

The campaign lasted nearly five hours, yet somehow, you felt energized, awake—but that was mostly the frustration that had built within you throughout the day, bothered by how irritated and distant Eddie seemed with you.

This was all his idea, originally—so how was this fair to you? Why did you have to feel guilty? It’s a partial reminder to yourself to never rely on anyone else for an orgasm, because clearly it was too difficult to even face that person afterwards (it's an absurd thing to think about, but it was true).

And while everyone else had already said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, helping him pick up like you always did, but there was a lot less talking and a lot more narrowly moving around each other, making it a point to avoid touching.

He huffs under his breath slightly, shoving the sprawled out papers into a folder, snapping it shut.

It’s a shock to your body, turning on your heels to look at him—his back was still tense, noticeable through the thin fabric of his shirt, his vest jacket slung over the back of his chair.

“Oh, would you fucking cut it out?” You nearly beg, talking to the back of him, hands thrown out to your sides in anger, balled into tight fists, “You’re acting like I scandalized you or something.”

His head turns slightly, the sharp line of his jaw visible to your eye, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Sorry,” He finally says, one of the very few words he’s spoken to you all day, “I’m not trying to—I just, don’t know what to say.”

“That’s news to me,” You laugh slightly, a little flippant sting behind your words, “If it’s really a problem we can forget it ever happened—“

“That’s not it,” He admits, turning his body to face you, sitting gently against the edge of the table, “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day—everyone is always around, though.”

You hadn’t considered that, honestly—not realizing how often Dustin or Mike trailed behind Eddie, or Gareth badgering you about some homework from the day prior as you walked to your next class, you were never truly alone, not until times like this.

Your lips pull together in a thin line, that nagging feeling of guilt eating away at you—maybe you had been too harsh on him.

“You seemed mad this morning when you gave me the dice.” He adds, idle fingers twisting his rings back into place accordingly, “I thought maybe you were upset about last night.”

“You did interrupt me,” You point out, “over something you could’ve just bothered me about at school the next morning—I was a little annoyed, don’t get me wrong.”

“But, if I hadn’t, maybe—“ Eddie starts, heading in a direction you were already well aware of.

“You’re making it awkward when it doesn’t have to be.” You remind him.

There was too much space between you both, Eddie feeling like he was on the other side of the planet, staring down meekly at his torn up Reebok’s.

“I know, I know,” He murmurs, chewing at his bottom lip, “I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“With anyone?” You ask, like Eddie gave up his free orgasm advice to anyone—it was a stupid question, but it slips out regardless.

“With a friend.” He corrects, eyes glancing up to lock with yours. “But, yeah–never with anyone else either.”

Friends. Just friends.

A friend who’s dick you pictured an awful lot, even before having him describe it to you—and even that feels dangerous to think about, knowing that you craved the idea of seeing your friend that way, stripped down and wanting.

“So, do we just forget about it then?” You ask again, more insistent this time as you approach him in small steps, “Like it never happened, right?”

“No,” Eddie says suddenly, “God, no.”

You tilt your head, pressing for more. Why? Why no?

“I can’t just forget shit like that.” He admits, his hand uncurling at his side, palm resting against the table. It’s a subconscious move, like he’s reaching toward you. “Can you?”

“I can lie and say yes, if that makes you feel better.” You tell him, soft laugh escaping your chest. “But, no—I don’t think there’s any way to just forget about it. Ignore it? Maybe. It doesn’t have to be weird, Eddie.”

“I know,” He agrees, nodding slightly, “Just—can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

And you sigh a silent breath of relief, because the sentiment was shared. Your cunt buzzed at the admission, feeling something stir inside of you. You blamed it on the lack of sexual interaction; it was a natural, after sharing something so intimate, that you couldn’t help but feel guilty thinking about—still, you were definitely thinking about it.

Eventually you arrived at his side, taking a careful seat on the side of the table beside him, feet perched up in a chair. He was silent again, thinking, following you closely with his eyes.

“That’s fair,” You shrug, deciding to not clue him in on your own selfish thoughts, his hands, his mouth, all of him; all over you, “Did you think I was going to make fun of you for it or something?”

“Maybe,” He says softly, eyes glancing from your face to the small gap between you both, hands pressed against the table, pinkies only a few inches apart. “I feel like I pressured you or something, which wasn’t my intention at all, I just—“

You don’t feel regret—shame maybe, at the idea that you couldn’t get the memory out of your mind, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret to be felt. “Eddie, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t want to—it’s okay.”

You swallow your words for a moment, debating carefully on how to switch the conversation to something less debilitating.

“Besides, you’re pretty good at it.”

It isn’t what you mean to say, but it comes out anyway.

“Helping you come?” And the words are so crass to hear coming from his mouth, inches away from you, but you can’t help the way your stomach turns, fluttering pleasantly. “Really?”

He’s laughing and you can both agree that it’s a ridiculous topic to discuss, but neither of you bothers to stop.

You shrug, head tilted up to look at him, “Like I said, I don’t have anything to compare it to—but it was pretty good.”

“You’re so difficult to understand,” Eddie responded with fondness, a small smile spreading across his face, deep smile lines in his cheek making you blush, face warm with embarrassment.

“All you have to do is ask questions, Eddie—I don’t bite.”

Eddie gives you an unsure look, almost mocking in the way that he doesn’t fully believe you.

“Was everything you said true?” He finally asks, curiosity racking his brain. Part of him can’t believe you, it doesn’t seem real. Ruin me, Eddie. I want you to ruin me. It was the single most earth shattering thing he’s ever heard someone say to him.

You nod feebly, maintaining a comfortable eye contact, admiring the way Eddie looked at you freely now, less restricted and apprehensive—his eyes looked warm under the theater room lighting, pools of dark honey, dangerously inviting. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve really never done anything.”

“What about the time you had to kiss Gareth on that dare?”

You snort softly, remembering how mortified Gareth looked in the moment, having no courage to actually go through with it. “You were there! He kissed my cheek, remember? He was terrified.”

“Oh, yeah,” It dawned on him, a burst of laughter bellowing from his mouth—and the thing about Eddie, he always laughed with his full body, the sound vibrating throughout him. He was as physical with his actions as you’ve ever seen among anybody; so distinct to him, “well, sorry.”

“Sorry?” You’re confused, eyebrows pinching together. “For me not being kissed? It’s not that big of a deal, you know.”

“Everyone should get to experience it once,” He defends, hands shoved deep into his front pockets as he shrugs, his head leaned down far enough that his bangs almost obscured his eyes—still, he was looking at you, “it’s important.”

“I’m eighteen—I still have time.” You remind him, “Plus, not everyone has their first kiss at fourteen, Eddie. Some of us are late bloomers.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, seeing the rightful argument you were making—despite that, he couldn’t shake the fact of the matter and what you’d said to him. Had it been true? Was it just a heat of the moment thing? Ruin me. It rang through his head again.

“If it bothers you that much—kiss me.”

The boldness is sudden, but you were over the harping about it—get it out of the way; easily taken care of. Eddie wasn’t a stranger, he was someone you genuinely trusted.

“You sure?” You admire that care he has, leaning away from you slightly to get a full view of your face, noticing just how serious you were.

“If you don’t do it, I will.” You challenge him, feeling your inside burn with anticipation.

Despite Eddie’s unconstrained confidence, he’s second guessing himself during, possibly, the most crucial moment he’s had so far in his young life. He watches the way your eyebrows draw up, almost a—well, what are you waiting for?—type of expression washing over your face.

He shuts everything off; his mind, his thoughts, his anxiety, and leans forward.

His palm is really warm, burning against the already hot skin of your cheek, blushed red with how easily he gave in—you half expected him to back out, stutter his way out of another conversation with you today. And his lips, they’re soft; not like you would expect, still cracked from his constant habit of licking his lips, but they’re plush and warm and perfect as they glide against your own in a careful dance—a balance of sincerity and care.

You make a small noise, a tiny little gasp, feeling the back of Eddie’s hand—the one not holding your face, creeping around to the small of your back, pulling you toward him as he moves to stand between your legs, leaving you crowded back against the table. It’s hard to process while Eddie is kissing you so thoughtfully.

It’s innocent and explorative, but he’s desperately trying not to cross any boundaries, only ghosting the top of his tongue across your top lip by accident when he kisses back too enthusiastically, feeling the way your chest arches toward him, wanting to feel closer to him. You’ve never made out with anyone—if you could call this that, but it’s glorious.

Your hands are still planted against the table, chair holding your legs forgotten, resting lazily against the table, the feeling of denim against denim as your inner thighs rubbed against the rough line of his jeans.

“Well, that’s another box to check off.” You say lightly, taking the opportunity to breathe as Eddie leans away, looking smug at the admission despite his early hesitation. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

It’s meant to sound playful, but it strikes a cord deep inside of Eddie.

“Only if you want me to.” He supplies, taking a small step back, still close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him,

You smile so hard your eyes squint, eyelashes touching at the corners. There was always something about Eddie that you couldn’t quite put your finger on—but maybe this was it. He was a solid reminder that you could enjoy yourself; indulge in what you wanted and not take everything so seriously. He was a needed distraction in your life and you were welcoming it with open arms.

“Give me a ride home?” You ask shyly, poking at his hipbone playfully. Eddie chuckles, grabbing the tender spot like you’d wounded him.

“Your chariot awaits, princess.” Eddie bows, fishing for the keys in his pocket as his arm extends out in waiting.

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s humming along to the beginnings of another Dio song, kept at a comfortably low volume so it doesn’t burst your eardrums—he knows how much you hate the loud music, despite actually enjoying most of his song choices.

The drive is slow, peaceful—the sticky and warm humid of the air leaking through the half cracked windows; nights like these make you hate the end of summer, the heat nearly unbearable some days.

“The windows still busted,” He tells you, “Otherwise I’d roll it down more.”

“It’s okay, Eddie.” You assure him, pulling at the loose shirt you had on, slipping it over your head—luckily you spare some of your modesty for him, a thin strapped tank top underneath.

It bared a small bit of your midriff—though, Eddie didn’t seem like he was bothered, not from your perspective anyways.

“Any plans tonight?” Eddie asks, hoping to break the silence that had fallen, glancing over at you sparingly.

You smirk to yourself, reading around the context of the question without Eddie realizing. He wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was, clearly.

“You can call me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You reply smugly, legs crossed over the other, hands resting against your thighs, fingers looped together loosely.

“You—you want me to call?”

“Sure,” You shrug indifferently, “We are still friends, Eddie—we’ve talked on the phone before; if it leads to more…well—“ You shrug again, offering a small, reserved smile.

His brain is not capable of processing this shit. Eddie always had the worst luck in the world, plans always turning upside down on him, things never working out—but this, he couldn’t let this one go. He’s got an idea swirling in his head, but he’s too afraid to say it outright.

“What’s your curfew again?” Eddie asks casually, fingers tapping against the worn steering wheel, the lack of luminosity from the street lights makes it hard to examine his expression, his heart thrumming in his chest like a jackrabbit—it felt like it was going to burst out any second.

“Uh, ten,” You respond, offering a puzzled expression. You quickly grab his wrist, glancing at his watch, “It’s only eight, so I’ve got a couple hours.”

Eddie nods silently, turning down a street that definitely did not lead to your home. His mischievous nature gives him away immediately.

“Eddie,” You speak carefully, drawing out his name, “If this is going to get us arrested you better turn around.”

“Hey, last time was a fluke—“ He defends, quickly skipping past the topic, “besides, you’re safe with me.”

“I know.”

Eddie smiles, turning around a long bend, leading to a closed off wooded area, large lake off in the distance.

“Lover’s Lake?” Confusion hits you, watching Eddie’s eager hands twist the keys from the ignition, bouncing out of his seat and toward your side, opening the door.

“Gotta start your rebellion at some point, right?” He grins, nodding toward the lake.

Your face pulls up, nose scrunched in confusion. Eddie laughs loudly, slipping off the jacket—which despite the heat, he still wore; it was true dedication. But, it doesn’t take you long to fit together the pieces of the puzzle that Eddie was conveniently leaving out.

“Skinny dipping?” Eyes wide, they follow Eddie’s departing figure, jacket tossed haphazardly on the hood of his van. “Eddie—I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You’re kidding me?” He was so infuriating.

Yet, you still followed him, eagerly.

“What? I won’t look.” Eddie shrugs, toeing off his shoes when you reach the point where water meets muddy foliage. “You’re always talking about how you want to experience more—well, why not this?”

“What if someone comes out here?”

No one ever came out to Lover’s Lake anymore, you both knew that. It was a weak attempt to feign your disinterest, but really, you were a giant bundle of nerves.

“Look—it’s hot as shit, I’m jumping in. You can watch or join, I’m leaving that up to you.” Eddie pulled his shirt over his head, skin stretching over his back—you’ve never realized how beautiful shoulders could be until you’ve seen Eddie’s.

But really, everything was beautiful on him.

“Dammit.” You mumble to yourself, Eddie reaching for the button of his jeans—and you want to avert your eyes, you do, but he’s doing it on purpose; hoping for you to steal a look, a glance—hell, even a peak. It wasn’t like you didn’t already have a vivid picture in your head.

“Last chance, princess.” He calls out, slipping his jeans and boxers off in one fluid movement.

“Eddie!” You gasp, somehow still shocked by his boldness; part of you couldn’t help not being able to grasp what was happening.

He turns to you, hands grasped over the part of himself that you were most intrigued about, your eyes stay locked on his, despite how hard you fight the urge to glance down. Eddie’s looking at you, almost expectantly. You hated how right he was; how badly you wanted to experience as much as possible, yet terrified at the idea.

“Shit—fine, I’ll do it.” You finally cave, Eddie grins wide, turning on his heels to skitter towards the water; the glance you steal of his ass is purely indulgence.

☆.｡.:*

Eddie is underneath the water as you tread through, the cold water against your skin feeling foreign, heart racing in your chest as you dip far enough beneath the surface that enough of your breasts are covered, your hair sticking against your skin from the water splashing back in your face.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks suddenly, heading popping above the surface, pushing his wet hair away from his face.

It’s strange, not having half of his hair obscuring his face. You smile, though your tone is still entirely deadpan and serious.

“Cold.”

“Not the water,” He laughs, flicking a droplet at your face, “your heart’s racing, isn’t it?”

You nod sheepishly, eyes wandering toward the shore. It was dead, dark, not a car or person in sight. You had nothing to worry about, yet somehow, you couldn’t help but worry—though, it was all mostly harmless.

“We’re safe.” He assures you, wading closer. “Here,” He takes a handful of water and pours it over your hair, wetting the rest of what wasn’t submerged in the lake, “that’s better.”

Your lips purse at the water that drips down your face, eyes squinting at Eddie’s expression; the smugness was evident.

“You’re enjoying yourself too much.” You point out, shoving his hand away gently. “How often do you do this?”

Five, ten, maybe a hundred times, no doubt.

“Never,” Eddie admits, “this is the first time.”

Your hands surface to push his shoulder, a little rougher than you intended. “Then how do you know this is safe?”

He senses your panic, grasping your elbow, his fingers settling in the dip of it, adjusting you to look toward his now abandoned van. “Look,” He points out a particular bend in the forest, a place that looks clear enough but still gives a decent view of the water, “I come out here at least once a week, just to smoke—Wayne hates the smell in the trailer, so, I try to improvise. Either way—no one ever comes out here anymore. Well, aside from me and a few homeless people, but I promise. We’re completely safe.”

You sigh, that small tinge of doubt in your stomach starting to dissipate, still hyper aware of his burning touch, even through the bitter cold of the water.

“You’re corrupting me, you know.” You confess, face turned away from him as you moved away, swimming further from the shore, feet barely touching the lake floor. “Is this all a part of your master plan, Eddie?”

You’re joking, he knows that. He can hear it in your voice, but the idea has something twisting inside of him. Eddie smiles, unbeknownst to you.

“You caught me.”

“You called me the other night with a plan, huh?” You press.

No, he hadn’t.

“Maybe,” He agrees with you, the splash of the waves against your back indicating that he was moving closer, you could hear him, almost predatorily slow. “Does that bother you?”

You shrug. It didn’t, not in the slightest.

“So, what’s your plan now?” You push, feeling the tip of his chest brush against your shoulder blades, just hovering.

And truly, he didn’t have one. It was an idea born out of spontaneity and Eddie flowed from one step to the next, not sure what he was expecting to happen. But, he feels it—the sense of tension that was building, lingering between you both like it had during the call from the previous night.

“Well,” His fingers brush the hair away from your shoulder, touch ghosting over your skin. You can feel his breath, his lips, right against the shell of your ear. You try desperately to hold back the full body shiver that runs through you, “want to check another box off your list?”

His forwardness is an act, a mask to cover how fucking nervous he was. His hands shook as they curled around the back of your neck, but you couldn’t see it—only feeling the dip of his thumb at the start of your spine.

Your head leans back on its own accord, his lips coming into full contact with the side of your face—and he chuckles, you can’t help the way your cunt clenches at the sound, not daring to make any sort of eye contact with your friend, who was pressing himself up against you so openly—feeling every point of him, despite the hindrance of the water. You gulped softly, too quiet for Eddie to hear.

“What do you have in mind?” You finally speak, voice sounding pathetically weak.

“You trust me, right?” He speaks softly, his unoccupied hand reaching around to cover the expanse of your stomach, turning you gently until you face him, “I just want to hear you say it.”

It’s the only thing he cares about—despite the weird mess you’ve both tangled yourself in, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, the idea of pushing you into something you didn’t want was the last thing he needed.

You nod slowly, his hand creeping around to caress the side of your face, thumb pressed against your jaw as he angles your face to look at him. Say it, his eyes speak, making contact with yours. “Yes, I trust you.”

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s deliberate in the way he kisses you this time, no fear of having to hold back, it’s full and pleasant and everything you had always expected it to be—albeit, not with Eddie, but you weren’t complaining. His hands are buried in your hair, angling your head up to reach his lips, leaving you to chase them desperately every time he pulls away, adjusting you until you’re pressed up against, nothing but bare skin against bare skin, the peaks of your breasts surface just above the water. The water ripples against your already sensitive nipples, gasping openly into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie laughs lowly, pulling back to make eye contact with you, his gaze burning into your own. “Sensitive?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes in casual annoyance, the smirk on his face growing by the second.

“Cold. It’s cold, Eddie.” And truly, it was. Even with the kiss of summer heat and humidity against your skin, the water was nearly freezing. “Want to tell me what you have planned so we can move this along—maybe somewhere out of the water?”

“How do you feel about me going down on you?” He asks sweetly, almost sickening. “That is, if you’re up for it.”

Did he think you were scared? Suddenly faced with the reality of everything, staring him down face to face, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride run through your body, realizing just how badly Eddie wanted you. He’s never been this sweet—to anyone.

Eddie knew you were special; different from all the rest, in all the best ways. He knew that from the moment he’d met you, set you up in Hellfire and neatly tucked you under his wing, along with the rest of his friends—but you, you were the one who he thought about when he was most vulnerable, the only person who really knew who he was.

“Gotta see if there’s any truth to those claims, right?” You counter, his face twitching up in amusement.

He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s hauling your legs up and over his hips, wading through water until he’s back on land. He ignores the haphazard pile of clothes, despite your protests, swinging open the door to his van with a free hand, other gripping tightly around your waist. You want to protest, complain and force him to put you down, but made some excuse about not wanting you to get dirty—despite how dirty you felt now, being settled down onto the base of his van, blanket already spread out from Eddie’s frequent use of the space for his own hotbox sessions, he even has a couple of thread-worn pillows shoved in the corner.

And it’s not until you’re finally settled that you realize how intensely Eddie is watching you, hands settled at the base of your ankles. His naked, completely bare—and you can’t remember any other time you’ve seen it before; someone so unashamed of their body, taking time to admire your own just as much. You’ve seen his tattoos up close before, but not like this–the small flurry of bats over his arm, or the few that lingered over his chest, now flushed a light pink from how deeply he was indebted in this.

“Sorry—“ He finally says, noting the small glide of his hands up your shins, then back down, like he’s caressing your legs, “just trying to take a mental note, in case I’m a disappointment and this never happens again.”

You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a small giggle, shoving him gently in the stomach. You were guilty, doing almost the exact same.

He’s toned, which isn’t a surprise—he didn’t try to hide it, those occasionally too tight shirts giving him away. His skin is milky, alabaster white and muddled with light freckles, the trail of hair at the top of his chest leading down to his lower abdomen, just at the base of his dick—which, seriously? He had enough to be proud about, but you half expected him to lie during the call, boost himself up; it was all true. Every single bit.

He’s not fully hard, but it’s still enough to intimidate you—Eddie clears his throat unnecessarily, left eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“Are you still with me?” He asks, arms crawling forward to lean over you slightly, body like a curtain against your own. You try not to think about the proximity, how easily you could reach up and pull him to you, feel that glide of his cock against you—just to put you both out of your misery.

“Hey, you get to see mine, it’s only fair I get to see yours.”

He laughs at that, brushing hair away from your face, lips settling against the line of your jaw, a small chaste peck, then switching to the other side to repeat the process. “Any judgments to be made?” He asks curiously, almost teasing.

“I’m not giving you anymore unnecessary ego boosts, sweetheart.” You say with a saccharine type of sweetness.

Eddie doesn’t need you to elaborate, that was already enough of an ego boost in itself. He tries to ignore the way you’re looking at him, so intently; not that he didn’t want you present in the situation, but he felt like you were looking right through him, sensing every bit of anxiety and nerves that riddled his body like a sickness. It wasn’t his first go at this, but with you—he was too afraid to fuck up.

You see the gears in his brain working overtime, trying to jump that initial hurdle of awkwardness—thankfully, you knew just what to do.

“Can I?” You ask, nodding down to where your hand grazed against his stomach, just above the line of his groin.

“Uh—yeahyeah, of course.” He rushes out, watching your timid fingers graze the tip of his dick, gently grabbing the base of his shaft. You didn’t know what to expect, but the way Eddie’s leaning into your touch is a good enough indication that you weren’t totally fucking things up.

“What feels good?” You ask shyly, your hand at a slow, graceful pace as you tug at him, watching the way he’s forcing himself to breath slower, through his nose.

He rocks his hips gently in time with your hand, “Tighter—a little—yeah, that’s good.” He says, feeling your hand tighten around his cock, the groan he forced back down has you lighting up, almost smiling at the revelation of how easily worked up Eddie could get; it wasn’t a wonder why he had a hard time holding himself off.

“Is this better?” You ask softly, “then—you know, your own hands?”

He chuckles at your curiosity, eyes glancing up to look at you, hair already partly dry, his bangs curtaining his eyes. He had such a timid innocence to him, under this light, in the belly of what could be something dangerous for your friendship—but, neither of you could seem to care anymore.

“So much better.” He nods gently, groaning outwardly at the movement of your thumb sliding over the head of his cock, a small pearl of precum wetting your finger; so you do it again. A few times, until he’s rocking up into your hand in earnest.

“Fuck—we gotta stop.” He warns, swatting your hand away kindly, fingers wrapping around the length of your wrist.

You want to pout, like some spoiled child—but instead you sigh, letting him guide your hands back toward your chest. He doesn’t give much warning before he leans in, capturing the bud of your nipple between his teeth, gently, but the sting is still there—quickly soothed away by the flat of his tongue.

“So pretty–just like I imagined.” He admits pathetically, speech muffled against your skin. That was something to unpack for another day.

You gasped, feeling his mouth capture the other, repeating the process before leaving small, open mouthed caresses against your breasts—you weren’t even sure if you would call them kisses, but they felt good. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, suddenly it was hot again, stuffy in the small containment of the back of his van.

You moan, so softly you weren’t even sure he’d hear it. But, of course he does, pulling back with a salacious and satisfied smile, reaching up to capture your lips in a kiss that can only be described as breathtaking.

Friends definitely didn’t kiss like this. Absolutely not.

“Eddie—Eddie, I still have a curfew.” You force through his assailant of kisses, his tongue a small tease as it traces your bottom lip. You warn him again, this time forcing him to look at you.

And friends definitely didn’t look at each other like that.

☆.｡.:*

He settles between your thighs soon after, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, spreading you open wide, leaving you almost no place to hide.

You take a long, deep breath—reminding yourself that you had nothing to worry about, you were safe here.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, a bouncy eagerness to his voice, feeling the heat of his breath against your cunt, what once was a dull buzz now a steady pulse inside you, deep and needy.

You nod eagerly, Eddie’s hang reaching up to spread your folds apart, finger dragging through jestingly.

“Eddie.” You warn, or beg—you're not sure which, but he understands. You weren't ready for him to sink his fingers inside you, afraid this would all be over quicker than you both wanted.

“I won’t.” He assures you, just applying the small bit of pressure you need to keen forward, grind against the flat of his palm. It was a lot like your own hand, in a way—but also completely foreign. “Just wanna ease you into it.”

And he does, letting you chase the gentle glide of his fingers against your folds, occasionally dragging over the swell of your clit, your hips chasing his hand, over and over again, desperately.

“Need it,” You beg, propped up on your elbows to look down at him, “wanna know.”

You were dying; dying to know.

He bites at the inside of your thigh, soothing the skin with his tongue, trailing a line of quick nips up the sensitive skin. You make a small noise of complaint, begging him to put you out of your misery.

Eddie doesn’t waste anymore time, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe up the seam of your cunt—even the first touch has you reeling, hand immediately tangled in the damp mess of curls at the top of his head.

You hear the messy, embarrassingly loud shlick of your wetness as he laps it, small kitten licks as he leans forward to focus on the soft buttony point of pleasure, sucking experimentally.

It should be a criminal how fucking good Eddie is with his mouth.

“Ohoh—okay, huh,” You ramble breathlessly, moaning out a sensical plethora of nonsense, noises that has Eddie groaning against you, vibrations like a wave of euphoria crashing down on you, “fuck, that feels really good.”

“Keep talking,” He urges, pulling away for half a second before he’s diving back in, face buried so deep into your cunt that you can’t even breath, tongue dipping inside of you carefully.

It caught you off guard completely, gasping out loudly into the air.

“Fuck, Eddie.” And friends definitely don’t say each other’s names like that.

“Too much?” He asks, his expression worried.

You shake your head fervently, “No—good. It’s so good,” You tell him, feeling the lack of motivation to form words now, despite his prior urges. “Keep going, please.”

And he does, openly groaning against your pussy, the sight of him grinding his hips down into blanket; it was something you couldn’t believe with your own eyes, but had you fighting off the urge to turn him over and sink down onto him, no more harping on the big red sign that said ‘I’m a virgin’—you wanted Eddie to consume that part of you completely.

“Come on, baby, wanna hear those pretty little noises.”

You could disintegrate into nothing at those words, letting the soft, wanton moans that you’d been holding back out, spurring him deeper and deeper into his own chase for pleasure, his mouth less controlled—more distracted, but still fucking incredible. He’s so desperate to come with you, reaching down to grab ahold of his cock, pulling idly as he kept up his lazy pace against the inner folds of your cunt, moaning out as his thumb slides over the tip of his cock, precum coating his fingers, making a mess of his own hand.

He speeds up the movement of his tongue, dragging over your clit relentlessly, using his hand to wrap around yours, still buried in his hair, forcing you to pull tighter. And it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise—but it is, how easily it turns Eddie on by it. You pull roughly, enough to have him moving away from you, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes; pupils blown out.

“Use my face,” He urges, “I want you to.”

You do, chasing exactly what you want—Eddie eagerly slurping up your wetness, grinding your cunt selfishly into him, the tip of nose dragging over your clit sends you toppling over over the edge. He grips both of your thighs, pulling you as wide as your hips allowed—and he’s still going, overstimulating you past the point of what you can handle. He’s drunk on the sounds you’re making, forgetting where he is for the moment. You yank at his hair, hard enough that he groans out, pulling away from your cunt as you rode through your orgasm, you pulse over and over again, nothing there to satiate that need—leaving a dull ache where you were desperate for Eddie to be, fill you up completely; it doesn’t stop you from sobbing out a broken, “Fuck!” as you start to come down, eyes closing from the intensity of your own orgasm.

When you finally come to, Eddie’s face is scrunched up, nose wrinkled at the bridge. His tone is soft, but forced.

“Shitshit—“ He curses, head still held up by the grip you had in his hair, his face tightening as he came, mouth hung open in a silent plea.

You take a second to catch your breath, “What the fuck?” You ask, the ‘was that?’ on the tip of your tongue, but you’re too tired to finish.

Eddie laughs, face riddled with his own exhaustion. “Good, isn’t it?” You nod, loosening the death grip you had on his curls, smoothing out the hair to soothe the sore spot, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve never come that hard before.” You laugh, falling back against the bed of the van.

“I told you, princess—“ Seeing him from this angle should be a sin, face covered in your wetness, “there’s so much you’re missing out on.”

“No shit.” You smile softly, lifting yourself up to sit, following Eddie as he leaned away, reaching blindly for a discarded shirt in the back of the van, watching as he wiped at the front of his abdomen, covered in his own come.

His eyes flick up, noticing your intense stare, “Enjoying yourself?” He asks, challenging you to look away.

You shrug casually, eyes tracking his movements—“Wait, what time is it?” You ask, the watch on his wrist bringing you back to reality.

Eddie takes a glance at his watch, eyes widening in shared panic, “Fuck—five past ten.”

“Eddie!” You exclaim, “I’m dead—go grab our clothes.”

Eddie scrambled, racing to grab the discarded fabrics, tossing them into the space between you both, dressing quickly.

“If I get caught, you’re dead.” You warn, nearly knocking him over at the grin that spreads across his face.

He was clearly too proud of himself.

☆.｡.:*

“You’re lucky I’m a good climber.” You mention to him, eyeing the dimmed lights through the window of your home.

It was either, a.) walk through the door and risk an earful from a pair of worried parents, or b.) find a way into your second story bedroom and guilt your parents in the morning when they ask why you never came home—reminding them that, yes you did; how could they not notice?

Rebellion was becoming a normal theme in your life and you couldn’t hate how good it felt to feel—Eddie laughs softly behind you, parked across the street.

“Oh, are you?” He teases, arm sling loosely over the back of your seat.

You wish you could hate everything about him, but it was impossible, not with the way he was looking at you.

You scoff in faux disgust, shoving his face in the other direction. “You’re so gross, Eddie.”

He does watch you climb the lattice wall to your window, embarrassingly so, flipping him off in full when you’re finally able to slip through the threshold of your room, quiet enough that the only noise you make is a soft thud on the fuzzy carpet floor.

The high hits you later, curled under the sheets of your bed. It wasn’t Eddie who was influencing you, it wasn’t that easy—it’s because you wanted it. You didn’t want the idea of rebelling and doing everything that your parents tried to scare you out of, you wanted Eddie.

You wanted him as the friend he’d always been, but so much more than that. Eddie was always good at forcing you out of your comfort zone, for good, and you couldn’t help that love you had for that fear; of unknown and new experiences.

And he does call you that night, but not for any other ludicrous reason than to talk—hear you, listen to the tiny inflictions in your voice when he makes some stupid joke. He was in love with you, he already knew that—he was just waiting for you to catch up, dawn on the feeling that you had buried for so long, too afraid of rejection.

Eddie could absolutely ruin you; he already was.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

4K notes · View notes

theemporium · 9 months

Note

Oh my god Maxie and trouble!!??!!!!! Literally my favs… no thoughts just domestic max and trouble trying to sleep but she just won’t stop talking and max just kisses her to shut her up and finally get some beauty sleep 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏‼️‼️‼️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

this was so cute and so self-projecting kqedjewfkqd thank you for requesting! and sorry not sorry to the team jeremiah girls!!🫶🏽

If there was one mistake Max made when it came to your relationship, it was agreeing to binge tv shows with you.

And yet, he fell for the trap every single time.

Personally, Max was never one to get overly invested in tv shows or movies. He would enjoy them, there were a few he wouldn’t mind rewatching on the odd rainy day. But he never got attached, whether it be to the show or the plot or the characters.

Not in the way you did.

He had to admit that he did find it adoring just how invested you got. If you liked the show, you were all in. You had your favourite characters and your comfort episodes. For the short time you watched the show until you finished, it was a hefty topic in most of your conversations. You got angry and sad and upset and excited over these shows. Max had never really experienced anything like it.

And usually—usually—he genuinely did find it adorable.

But sometimes there were moments like this one where he majorly regretted watching the show with you.

“I just don’t get how everybody can’t see the clear endgame!”

“Mhm.”

“Like, from music and cinematography and—”

“Mhm.”

“She has to end up with Conrad! She has to! I mean,” you paused for a moment as you let out a scoff. “Who would choose Jeremiah? He just lurks in the background with his creepy blue eyes and weird stare!”

“Mhm,” Max hummed like he had been doing for the last fifteen minutes before he paused. He frowned, opening his eyes to look over at you. “Wait, you don’t think my blue eyes are creepy, right?”

“Of course not, baby,” you murmured with a soft smile. “You have pretty ocean eyes. Jeremiah Fisher has the eyes of a white walker.”

Max snorted.

“I’m serious, Max. They stare into your soul.”

“I think you forget that I watched the show with you, Trouble,” he murmured as his eyes fell shut again, taking in a deep breath as he desperately tried to fall asleep like his body was begging him to do so.

But you had just finished the last episode of season two, you were riled up, and now instead of going to bed and cuddling with him like he wanted, you were sat criss-crossed on the bed as you rambled away about a show Max stopped thinking about the second the tv turned off.

“He is just the clear second option when Conrad is there, all dreamy and perfect and still in love with her and—”

You never got a chance to finish your sentence before Max had sat up, his fingers tangled in your hair as he kissed you mid-sentence. You felt breathless and flushed, and it didn’t take long for you to sink into his embrace as he pulled you back down onto the bed until you were lying on top of him.

“I know you’re angry but you need sleep,” he murmured against your lips as he settled his arms around your middle. “We both do.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still a little dazed from the kiss.

“And I would prefer to have my girlfriend in my arms rather than talking about some other man being dreamy or whatever you said,” Max added.

You laughed lightly as you nuzzled yourself further into his embrace. “You are Team Conrad though, right?”

“Of course, Trouble,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now for the love of god, please fucking go to sleep.”

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

724 notes · View notes

lavykitty · 9 months

Note

A request where tony stark has a shy gf reader (who has a power of water) who got affected by a sex pollen. shy gf reader wants tony to really take her virginity and cure her sex pollen

Pollen

I changed the reader to Tony’s fiancée instead of gf.

1.3k words

Your heart rate was increasing and you didn’t know why. Everything was going according to plan, after all you had successfully found the location of the files you needed to retrieve.

Some hydra scientist had information in their new projects and SHIELD had asked you to investigate. Slipping into their compound was easy enough so you were on edge. Things were just too easy.

You crept through the dark hallway pearling into rooms to make sure no one was following. You clutched the hard drive into your hand leaving a slight mark. Eventually you found the room with their master computer.

You slipped inside and carefully entered the hard drive. After doing some light waiting you took the hard drive and stuffed it into your pocket. Thanks to SHIELD experts you didn’t have to worry about hacking into the system.

You made your way out back to the hallway and tried to slip out. Unfortunately you heard footsteps coming around the corner. You ran into the first room you came across and quickly shut the door.

You let out a sigh of relief as you heard the footsteps fade away. Your hand went to open the door but your body froze. You smelled something simply wonderful and felt your head become fuzzy.

You turned around and saw the most beautiful flower imaginable. It was about a foot high and had a huge blossom on top. Gold pollen seemed to float off of it and you saw some stick to your hands. Each place the pollen touched you felt warmth. Your body started to flush as you saw your skin become rosy with a glow. Your eyes started to feel heavy as you felt your knees start to buckle.

You had to get out.

You quickly dialed Clint as you made your way out of the building to the roof. He saw you stumble around and had a concerned look in his eyes. As soon as you got inside the plane he had you lay down and you quickly fell asleep.

When you woke up you were laying in yours and Tony’s bed. He looked down at you concerned and you suddenly became self conscious over now much sweat was gathering on your back.

“Baby, are you okay?”

You went to nod your head but then something changed inside you. You felt a huge wave of arousal fall down your body to your core. And suddenly you felt super wet. Your nipples hardened as you looked at your fiancé.

“Are you sure because Bruce did some test and it seems you’ve gotten some sex pollen in your system.”

You shrugged as you traced a hand around your breast giving a tight squeeze. You moaned and licked your lips.

Tony looked at you with confusion as you pushed your blanket off and crawled on over to him. You bit your lip as crawled onto his lap. You pushed him onto his back and grinded your hips down into his. Tony let out a moan as he threw his head back. He loved when you got feisty but usually you stopped at just making out. Instead you went to pull your shirt off and your breast fell forward.

Tony saw your nipples through your bralette and he felt himself stir downstairs. He pushed you away briefly, “baby I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

You quickly silenced him with a kiss, “Baby, I’ve been wanting this for a long time. I think the increased libido has just given me the courage to pursue it before the wedding.”

Tony nodded slowly as you slowly undid your bralette letting it fall to the bed. Tony’s eyes widened with surprise. He smiled big as he looked you up and down.

“Tony, I’ve wanted this for so long, but you know I don’t have any experience. I didn’t want you to be disappointed and leave me.” Your voice quieted at the end as you stopped your hips from moving. Tony just looked up at you and brought your head down to his and gave you a steamy kiss.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth. He made contact with your tongue and threaded his hands into your hair. He pulled away and flipped you over so you were on your back. You let out a soft groan as Tony trailed kisses down your neck.

“Darling, I love you so much. You never have to worry about your experience. I love you.” Between each word he placed a kiss on your body.

He moved to your breasts and sucked lightly on the flesh. He bit lightly making you squeal. He smirked against your skin as he moved to your nipples. He sucked one into his mouth as you moaned. He grazed his teeth over it before swirling his tongue. His other hand met your other nipple as he pinched it in his hand.

Your core started to throb as Tony continued to play with your breast. He switched to sucking your other nipple. His other hand playing with your wet tit.

You squirmed under him as a warm sensation built up in your stomach. Your core pulsed as you threw your head back. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your orgasm come over you. You moaned loudly making Tony chuckle.

“I told you I’d take care of you. Let it all out, enjoy yourself.”

He smirked as he went to remove your pants. In one swift motion your entire body was bare. He looked up at you as you nodded. He smiled as he pressed a kiss to your wet core. He licked up your juices as you squirmed underneath him. Your hands met his hair pulling his face closer to your pussy.

Tony smirked against the lips of your pussy as he swiped his nose against your puffy clit. He thrusted his tongue deep inside your eager hole as his hand made figure eights on your sensitive bud. Another orgasm was fast approaching as Tony continued to lap up your juices.

You screamed out in ecstasy as Tony stood up to remove his boxers. His cock sprang free and his entire tip looked painfully swollen.

Tony stroked himself a few times before reaching for a condom. You went to go sit on your knees and went to grab his length but Tony tutted. He rolled the condom onto his dick as he spit into his hand.

He stroked himself a few more times and motioned for you to lay on your back. You obliged as Tony lined up with your entrance.

“As much as I would like for you to suck me off, that’s as activity for another time.”

You went to nod but your motions freezes when Tony pushed into your swollen pussy. Your toes curled as he took care of you.

He thrusted sloppily as you moaned. Your hands scratched down Tony’s back edging him on either further. He quickened his pace as he leaned forward to kiss you. His tongue swirled around in your mouth as his dick reached the spongy spot inside you.

You went numb under him as felt your third orgasm approach. Tony continued kiss you. He continued to thrust into you as he started to go even deeper into your insides.

You screamed out in ecstasy as you fell limp under Tony. He pulled out of you, his face covered in sweat. He peeled the condom off and you saw he was still rock hard.

You came down from your high as you cocked your head to the side. Tony smirked as he motioned for you to kneel in front of him. He stroked himself as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your tits. He pulled away as he ejaculated on your tits.

You moaned as your hands went up to gather his cum on your fingers. You stuck your fingers in your mouth and moaned contently as you fell back on your back.

“Tony, I love you.”

He just chuckled “I love you too darling. Now get some sleep. Well wait till the pollen wears all the way off.”

#marvel smut #marvel x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #tony stark x reader smut

583 notes · View notes

lumikore · 4 months

Text

My Medic loadout I still don't know if he's an oc or not I guess he could be categorised as self insert oc but he's not really he's just my loadout guy but I do imagine him in my head in little scenarios mostly like stuff that would happen to me ingame and he acts like how I would but he's a little more mean and depressed like another day another dollar kinda vibe yknow so he's not me but he kind of is like he's my loadout yknow that's what other people see when they see me playing medic but also I don't 'kin' medic or anything like that if anything I think I'm most like engineer if I had to pick one Idk maybe he's a tf2-sona if that's a thing he's not exactly like me but he kind of represents me I mean he's my pfp as well on here and on Steam and on yt maybe he's like a mascot for my brand like Ronald McDonald or Chuck E Cheese but for Lumikore Tf2 Drawings And Etc Incorporated you feel me but like I also have hcs for him I guess they're canon if he's my character but anyway I think he plays the harp which well I mean I play the harp so I guess I'm projecting onto him a little bit there but it's ok like I project onto every single character I make ever it doesn't mean it's me it just means it is influenced by me which of course it's going to be if I made it and guys sorry for not using commas or full stops I can't help it this is what my thoughts sound like to me and it feels really weird and unnatural when I have to add pauses instead of just connecting all my thoughts in one sentence like how they come to me in my brain I didn't sleep very well last night btw so I'm kinda going a little crazy I slept 4 hours and then got up at midnight to eat strawberries and cherries and prosciutto and brie as stated in my other post and then tried to go back to sleep but it didn't work so I just layed awake for a bit now it's about 11:30 and I'm quite tired now thinking about it but I mustn't have a nap or my sleep cycle will get even worse and it also just occurred to me no one wants to read this and I think I got a little off topic as well but if I write a big enough wall of text peole will have no choice but to see it and think wow what is this guy on about that he needs to write so much under a little drawing post guys write Krampus in the comments if you read this far I'm also kind of sad rn about Krampus because after the event is over I'll have to wait another year before I can see my lovely wife Krampus again and she's gonna be so lonely without me like what does she do all year stay at home all alone it's sad really who's going to give her love and attention while I'm off fighting in the war (2fort) and genuinely aside from Krampus I really like the Smissmas maps especially Carrier and Galleria I don't really like Haarp it's very confusing and stressful but still I hope some of them stay throughout the year because I just know if they only come back in December then they will get hardly any players ever again cause people want to play the new maps every year and I think I should stop writing so I can go play tf2 now so I can play the event maps before they're gone so bye.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #medic tf2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 medic oc #tf2 oc #stream of consciousness

272 notes · View notes

zeewritez · 4 months

Text

The Sailor and The Samurai - I

Mizu x Femme Shipmate/Pirate Reader

Hi my lovelies! I haven't updated in so long and I'm sorry but college has been kicking my ass. (Why tf am I studying biochemistry - because I hate myself). Anyways, I hope to update my other stories soon (I've had chapters for months now, they just need to be edited lol). So for now, here's a little BES fic because I'm in love with this show :)

(Notes: Reader's father is Irish in the fic but she will not be described physically except for having super long curly hair because I like projecting my hair goals onto stories, also I will be using he/him pronouns for Mizu since they are currently being perceived as a man.)

Part 2 now out

Y/n woke up with a splitting headache from the rum she had the previous night. She made a note to self to not attempt to out drink her father, even if he was pushing 60. Rolling out of her cot, she slipped on a blouse and trousers she had acquired from a crew mate at some point. They barely fit, but it was far better than the dresses and corsets she wore whenever they docked back home.

She walked onto the deck just in time to watch over the vast ocean as they approached the isolated island of Japan. She'd been there many times in her career but had only ever been to the ports to assist with loading goods when the crew needed it. Today, there was no need. Instead, she watched with mild curiosity from the crow's nest as crates were loaded onto The Banshee.

The cargo seemed standard: silks, swords, exotic fish. The things nobles in England dreweld over. Yet the passengers were anything but standard. Y/n could barely believe her eyes when the infamous Abijah Fowler was brought on board with guards on each side of him. He was brought to the detention cell, which would have otherwise been used when her father was tired of a crewmate's drunken antics.

Y/n was so taken aback by Fowler's presence she nearly missed the passenger behind him: a young man, a few years older than y/n herself, clad in Japanese garb and yellow glasses. It seemed odd to her, as it was rather overcast outside but she didn't give it a second thought. What she was truly curious about was why Abijah Fowler was on their vessel.

As the ship took sail, she climbed down from the nest and made her way to the detention cell with a curious, if not mischievous, grin.

"I never thought you'd be joining us for London," she teased as she stood outside of his cel, as though dangling her freedom like a carrot. She did not like Fowler one bit, but she found him almost as amusing as she found him vile. Entertainment was hard to come by at sea, so who could really blame her?

"Well I for one am always happy to see you," he said, grabbing her hand through the bars and kissing her knuckles. She rolled her eyes as she pulled her hand back from him.

"What brings you back to the isle?" she asked. "My father doesn't even enjoy England, and he's still in good standing, legally speaking."

"Perhaps he's a better Irishman then me," Fowler said with a shrug. "What does it matter to you?"

The girl looked up in faux innocence. "Oh, I'm just curious."

"Well, why don't you hunt down the samurai that's on board and he can let you know why I'm going back to London," Fowler finally told her. "You've picked up quite a bit of Japanese, haven't ya?"

"Alright, I'll see you around then," she said as she turned to leave.

"You have your mother's rear!" He shouted out, as though y/n had forgotten why she had disliked the man so much. She said a silent prayer thanking the heavens he wasn't roaming freely as she roamed the ship looking for the mysterious man with glasses, which was simple enough.

He stood on the poop deck, staring out onto the ocean, as anyone who has ever treaded water has. The waters had a way of commanding one's attention.

"Hello good sir," the young woman greeted she climbed the stairs, stopping to curtsey out of habit. She'd managed to have some resemblance of good manners despite being raised at sea by a captain with a drinking habit.

The young man stared at her, which was a common response from many men upon seeing her for the first time, regardless of national origin. In fact, Englishmen seemed most taken aback by her appearance. Her hair was long and unkempt, falling down her back in ringlets instead of being pinned into an updo of a proper lady. Her shirt nearly fell from her shoulders and around her neck was a long, beaded necklace that seemed to trail down between her breasts. Y/n giggled at the man's reaction, having expected nothing less.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he spoke casting his eyes away from her eyes out of embarrassment, then down to her strange necklace, then back up to her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she said, leaning against the Banshee's railing. "It is lovely to make your acquaintance, may I ask your name?"

"Mizu," he answered, finally less taken aback by the strange woman. "And you are?*

"Y/n," she said, reaching out her hand limply, again out of habit more than anything else. Mizu looked at her with pure confusion, almost fear. Y/n giggled again, this time to hide her embarrassment. "It is expected to kiss a lady's hand where we're going."

Mizu nodded and cautiously took the girl's hand, which was smaller then her own, and cool to the touch from the ocean winds. He kissed it with the gentleness most men she encountered lacked.

"You'll make a proper gentleman," y/n remarked as she retrieved her hand once again and placed it under her head. She scanned Mizu as had her. Admittedly he was rather dashing. So much so she'd forgotten what she was originally there to ask him. Fowler was the last thing on her mind. "What's with the spectacles?" she asked.

"My eyes are unnatural back home," he told her.

"Is that so?" Y/n asked rhetorically. Perhaps without thought for personal space, she leaned forward and took the yellow frames from the man's face. She was greeted with eyes that would put the sea herself to shame. "You needn't wear these anymore, your eyes are beautiful." The young sailor folded the glasses and handed them back to the blue eyed man.

A small smile graced Mizu's face at the first genuine compliment he'd heard in regard to his eyes. He looked over the beautiful yet foreign face of the woman in front of him. The journey to London was certainly something to look forward to now.

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #reader insert #mizu x you #netflix #bes #bes mizu #blue eye samurai fanfic

166 notes · View notes

thebisexualdogdad · 10 months

Note

fic where Maddy Perez falls for East highlands resident bad boy and they hook up after a group project

Maddy Perez x Male!reader

Maddy certainly wasn't the only person in school to have a thing for you, in fact you had already made your way through most of the cheerleading squad but unlike them Maddy refused to let you know she was insanely attracted to you.

"Looking good Perez, when are you going to let me take you out," you asked her one day in history class when she was wearing her cheer uniform for that night's football game.

"Never gonna happen Y/N," she said rolling her eyes but really she was imagining how good your head would look underneath her skirt.

Then there was that time at a party when you surprised everyone by actually showing up.

"What are you doing here? Don't you prefer getting drunk on cheap beer behind the liquor store," Maddy jokes, finding you in the kitchen as you start drinking some very expensive whisky directly from the bottle.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you," you say, offering her the whisky, "you look hot by the way."

Maddy quickly grabs the bottle and chugs some of it hoping to hide the blush forming on her cheeks, "too bad I'm not interested in letting you get in my pants but I'm sure you'll find someone else to get lucky with."

"You're breaking my heart Perez," you say playfully.

"Didn't know you had one," she cracks.

"If you ever let me take you out on that date you'd see there's more to me than just being a devilishly handsome bad boy," you say leaning in close to her.

Maddy gulps, taking another swig of whisky to stop herself from fucking you right there on that counter.

You and Maddy continued this game until you eventually got partnered up for a history project.

How the hell was she going to retain her self control and not jump your bones when you were going to be spending so much time together alone in her bedroom.

Well technically you could have done this project at the library but Maddy was horny and thinking with her pussy, not her brain.

So here you are, in her room on day three of working on your project with Maddy looking at you like a four course meal after you drove her home on your motorcycle.

Her body was still humming from the vibrations and holding onto you so tightly.

"Maddy? Earth to Maddy," you laugh, snapping her out of her trance, "I think we've got enough research notes to start working on the essay."

"Yeah, right, let me get my laptop," she says, taking a seat at her desk and turning her laptop on.

You grab the small ottoman she uses at her vanity mirror and take a seat next to her, a little too close for Maddy to stay focused on the essay.

"You want me to type? You seem to be making a lot of typos there Perez," you laugh.

Maddy pushes the laptop in front of you and stands from her chair, "I need some water do you want anything?"

"Vodka would be nice," you grin.

"I'll get you a soda," she says before leaving her bedroom.

When she returns her glass of water is nearly empty from her trying to cool herself down and she hands you the soda.

You crack it open and take a drink, setting it on the desk as you keep working.

"Can you hand me the textbook, there's something I want to look up," you ask a few minutes later and when she grabs the book she knocks your dark soda over and it spills right onto your white shirt.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry," she says running to her bathroom to grab a towel to clean up her desk.

But when she steps out of her bathroom you're standing there shirtless.

"Mind if I wash this in your sink? Its sticky and I don't want it to stain," You ask.

"Uh, yeah, yeah that's fine," she says, glazing over your abs as you walk past her to her bathroom.

She cleans up the soda and hears the water running in the bathroom, she has to get it together.

She sits on the edge of her bed and puts her head in her hands, how the hell did you have this much of an affect on her.

"Hey it's okay, it's just a shirt," you chuckle when you come back into her room.

You left your shirt hanging in the bathroom to dry and now there's some stray water droplets running down your stomach.

Fuck.

You walk over to her and Maddy can't fight the urges anymore, her hands go to your neck and she pulls you down into an intense kiss.

"Woah, Maddy," you say in surprise, pulling away from her.

"You've been hitting on me since the sixth grade, you really don't want this?" She scoffs.

"I want this more than you know, I just want to make sure you want this," you say.

"I want this Y/N, I really want this," she says bringing you back in for another kiss.

You sink down to your knees in front of her, kissing down her neck and playing with the hem of her shirt.

"Take it off," she orders and in seconds her shirt is gone.

You keep kissing down her body until you reach the top of her jeans.

You look up at her and she nods her consent before raising her hips in the air so you could tug her jeans down her legs.

"God you're beautiful Maddy," you say, kissing along her thighs, "and so wet already."

"I hate that you turn me on this much," she groans right as your tongue licks her through her panties.

"If you want me to stop just tell me to," you say.

"Don't you fucking dare stop," she says sternly and you smile, pulling her panties to the side and tasting her directly.

You moan and Maddy feels it deep in the pit of her stomach, your tongue working her in ways no other guy ever had before.

One her of legs goes over your shoulder, giving you better access.

Her arousal drips down your chin and you slip a finger inside with ease, Maddy moaning above you.

A second finger enters her and you pump them slowly, using your other hand to pull the hood of her clit back and suck it between your lips.

"Holy shit," Maddy cries out, she had been holding this in for so long she can't even feel embarrassed about how quickly she came because it felt so fucking good.

"Damn Perez, I wasn't even down there for a full five minutes," you say cockily.

"Shut up and fuck me Y/N," she demands and you happily stand up, dropping your jeans to reveal the massive boner poking through your boxers.

"You got any condoms?" You ask, stroking yourself through your boxers which only turns her on more.

"Top left drawer in my bathroom," she says.

You go to her bathroom again and find the box of condoms, grabbing one and when you return her bra and panties are gone, leaving her completely naked and now in the center of her bed.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" You say, letting your boxers join the rest of your clothes on the floor and putting the condom on.

"Didn't I tell you to fuck me already?" Maddy states and you smirk, joining her in bed.

You settle on top of her, kissing her and she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue.

Reaching down you tease her with the tip of your cock, lathering it with her arousal before easing it inside.

Maddy clearly doesn't want to wait any longer so you quickly rock your hips in a steady rhythm.

Her nails dig into your back, her bed creaking underneath you.

You suck harshly at her neck, one of your hands going to play with her chest.

Maddy moans loudly when you roll one of her nipples between your fingers, legs wrapping around your waist so you can hit deeper inside her.

"Oh fuck me, right there, right there," she chants.

Once again it doesn't take long for her to cum, this one hitting her even harder than the first.

"Do you want me to pull out?" You ask her, slowing your movements giving her a few aftershocks.

"No, keep going until you cum," she says, grabbing your ass.

You smirk and pick your pace back up, she's squeezing your ass and within another minute you're cumming inside her.

"Fuck Maddy," you grunt, your hips moving more frantically through your release.

"That felt so fucking good," she says, groaning when you pull out of her and feeling so empty.

You roll over next to her, taking the condom off and throwing it in the trash next to her bed.

"So does this mean you're finally gonna let me take you on a date?" You tease.

"I'll tell you what Y/N, if we get an A on this project, I'll go on a date with you," she replies.

"You got yourself a deal," you smile, "now let's get back to work, we have an essay to write."

"Have you ever worked this hard on an assignment before?" She jokes.

"Nope but sex is an excellent motivation and it'll be even better at the end of it because I'm going to take you on the best date of your life."

#euphoria imagine #maddy perez imagine #maddy perez x reader #x male reader #fic

519 notes · View notes

angelanderson · 10 months

Note

I really want an Ellabs x reader fic of fem reader really needing comfort bc she's sad/overwhelmed but she tries to hide it from ellabs but obv they notice smth is off, so they tell her they noticed smth is wrong and she kinda breaks down at that, then they comfort her thru it, listening to her problems or insecurities n'stuff <33 Sorry if it's confusing and/or too long, u dont gotta do it but i'd appreciate it tons <33 (Im totally not self projecting)

ur projecting = supported. 🫢 100% sfw/comfort fic but still no men or minors. type of relationship between them is up to u! this ended up a semi- full length fic oops ? enjoy!

sometimes it just feels too hard. being the newest member in jackson means you feel like you have to prove your worth 24/7. and it’s exhausting, really. abby is just so strong, ellie has the best patrol work, and you? you feel… weak. you (falsely) feel like nothing you’ve done has proven you’re worth the space in jackson.

so when monday rolls around, you tell ellie and abby you have plans with someone else so you can just go home and hide. they don’t question that, why would they? tuesday you tell them you wanna go to bed early. okay, fine. but then it’s wednesday, and they’re starting to get that something is going on with you.

the worry starts to kick in wednesday night after maria tells the two women you asked to go home early, citing that you’re not feeling well. abby all but drags ellie to your tiny place immediately after hearing maria’s words. you always tell each other everything. so why didn’t you now?!

it’s easy to know abby and ellie are knocking at your door simply because of the sheer force of it. five minutes you try to pretend you’re not home. you don’t want them to see you in this state; you’ve been ugly crying for two hours now. however, they don’t give up. it’s not like you could expect anything else from them.

“baby, we know you’re home. let us in, yeah? we’re worried about you,” abby shouts out after another two minutes of knocking.

you respond back with a sickly voice from the sofa, “no, go away. ‘m busy.”

you can just feel the attitude enter ellie’s body now. you know how stubborn she can be. “no, we know you’re lying. i will find a way in if you don’t let us in within the next thirty seconds.”

you know she isn’t joking as you move to open the door. the sight of you upon opening the door is not a pretty one— your face is red, covered in tears. ellie takes a deep breath before she pushes in. she won’t let you shut them out anymore. abby shuts the door before them before heading you back onto the sofa with them. each other is on either side of you within the matter of seconds.

as per usual, abby is the first one to break the silence. “oh, honey, what’s going on? we could’ve helped you sooner if we knew.” the way she sounds sad just makes you feel worse.

insecurities once again bubbling over, you do the only thing you can think of: you try to shove abby away. being significantly stronger than you means it didn’t feel like a single thing. however, abby won’t put up with you lashing out right now. she knows you can be their sweet girl even in the toughest of moments.

ellie watches like a hawk as abby grabs both of your wrists to stop you from trying to push her away again. “just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can act out. are you going to be the big girl i know you are now? or do i need to keep you here?”

the concerned sternness of her voice makes you whimper in reply. fresh tears leak down your face as you try to find the words to explain. “i- i just don’t think i deserve to be here! everyone, especially you two, carry your weight around here! and what do i do? i’m just a stupid girl working in the bar!”

and, well, neither of them could say they were expecting that response. sure, you were newer to Jackson, but so was everyone at one point. you were also one of the most popular Jackson residents— everyone loves the energy you bring to the bar after a long day of work. so it just makes sense that both women are beyond shocked to realize that this is why you’re so down. how could you not know how loved you are here?

as yet another round of tears starts to fall, you feel abby’s big arms quickly pull you into her chest. your body starts to shake with each inhale as you start to sob into abby’s chest. while ellie rushes to rub your back, abby starts to tilt your head up so you can see her.

“angel, angel, no. let’s take some deep breathes and then we’ll all have a talk, okay?”, abby coos as she wipes away the falling tears.

ellie puts your right hand over abby’s heart when your breathing doesn’t start to slow any. she speaks in the softest voice she can muster up,“deep breaths with me and abby, baby. feel abby’s heart beat. we’re all going to just relax together before anything else.”

two minutes between your favorite people is all it takes to reduce you to just sniffles. you slouch back into your seat once you’ve finally caught your breath. you look up at abby and ellie with wet eyes before letting out a long sigh. no one is sure who should speak first.

ellie decides she’ll be the one to start, “it’s not true, you know? everyone here loves you. helping run the bar is important. you create a space where we can all relax for once. emphasis on the relax part.”

abby grunts in agreement with ellie. “you know ellie’s right, don’t you baby,” abby questions before looking over to ellie, “our favorite girl’s always making everyone feel happy, isn’t she?”

“for real though, you really do play a big part here. you know ellie and i started arguing less when you came around? pretty big deal there, you know. even joel commented on it,” the dirty blonde continues on the conversation.

and that makes you giggle for the first time all day. “even joel? really?” while you knew they had a previous history of more frequent fights, you didn’t know even joel was over it back then too.

“yeah, it’s really true,” abby starts before taking a breath to think about her next words. she exhales, “strength isn’t everything, you know? you add just as much as we do here. creating a space where people can relax while we live on this hell on earth is just as important as what we do. we all do the best here because we are better with each other. our system can’t function without others.”

you’re sure you’d be crying tears of happiness right now if you weren’t so exhausted from all your previous crying. your previous anxieties start to slip away as you start to truly internalize both of their words from today. you are important. you matter here. just like everyone else.

no one is given a chance to speak before you’re pulling ellie and yourself on top of abby. “i love you, i love you, i love you both,” you whisper out. “you’re right. i promise i’ll come talk to you next time i’m feeling down, okay? know you’ll make me say that part next!”

“okay smarty pants, you better. also, we always are, darling. love you the most,” teases ellie before she presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“hey! what if i love you both the most? then what?” you’re sure you can feel ellie roll her eyes as abby whines out playfully.

“okay, okay. how about we all love each other the most? can we just agree so i can drink some water now? my head is killing me.” a major post-crying headache has just started to come on for you.

ellie rolls her eyes playful at both of you. “i’ll get us all some water”, she commands as she walks to your kitchen, “and get comfy with abby. we’ll watch a movie, and yes, you can choose today.”

yay! end note to say ur important and i’m glad ur here + love that we all each add our own special things to this earth 🫂

#ellabs x reader #ellabs #ellie willams x reader #abby anderson x reader #ellie x reader x abby #ellie williams drabble #abby anderson drabble #abby drabbles #ellie drabbles #tlou fluff #abby anderson fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x you #ellie williams x you

421 notes · View notes

darkdemeter · 2 months

Text

ONE AND THE SAME, LONELY AND AFRAID

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

—- not my gifs, found on pinterest, credit to original posters! -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

I dunno what to really say about this piece, brain just switched into angsty, (kinda fluffy?) writing mode and I went with it.

Therapy — angst — hurt comfort? — (introverted) reader — insecurity warning — semi-established mutual pining/interest — strong language — socially awkward bean reader — basically reader has a lot of reservations about things that involve other people, more of a self isolated type — self sabotage — we got a mutual-semi happy ending — I think that's it?

| SUMMARY |

You've always opted to be alone. Recent visits to Dr Raynor, however, work to bring down those walls you hold up. Little are you aware that someone you're talking to is very much the same as you. Lonely and afraid.

────────────────┘

7.6K(words)

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl

────────────────┘

“Have you been keeping up with the exercises I gave you?”

Already she knows the answer. Not even three seconds can you maintain eye contact, eyes feeling glassy each time you near the braving point. It’s futile. People can hear what you’re saying right? Why the need to have your eyes glued to them?

Your shoulders shove up weakly and Dr Raynor rhythmically paces the pen’s butt against her notebook.

“That’s a no,” she sighs, “I gave you those exercises to help you. Eye contact, let’s start with that again: what do you find so intimidating about it?”

The air is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Your gaze is still glued to a random place on the wall behind her. That is the closest you can give her today.

Her lips push together and her eyes thin in that way you assumed all of these doctors do, a tactic to unnerve you into squeezing out the details. To weed out the problems. You don’t like it. Your fingers are crushed in the grip of your other hand sitting in your lap idly.

Again, you shrug. “Just that. Intimidating. It’s… a lot.”

“There’s more to it for you. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that, it terrifies you when someone looks at you. Focuses their attention on you.”

“Maybe it’s something like that…” You tilt your head slightly. “Maybe it’s not.”

I don’t like being here. I just wanna go. I still have fifteen minutes.

“Your family is worried about you. You have a tendency to be self isolating. Reserved. They’re concerned that you’ve been alone.” She’s spitting words at you. Family concerns have always been the bane of your lonely ways. Their constant insistence to put yourself out there, to go out on at least one date.

Try to talk you into meeting people they know, saying that they will be good for you. All because they’ve grown far too comfortable with being with someone, that they can’t stand to be alone themselves. And then, they have to project that onto you.

“It’s a choice.”

“What can you tell me about your intimate life? Partners, significant others.”

The jutting of your pouty lip is any indication that a cheeky remark is right on the edge of your tongue. She stops you right before you can say a word.

“Stuff toys and pets do not count.”

“But they’re companions. You wanna know about my companion life, right?”

“Just answer the question.”

It takes another five minutes. Pure and slow in time, each waver of the ticking hands beats another seconds off the appointment. But it’s not fast enough for your liking. Tongue tracing the curves of your gums and teeth, you contemplate.

Dr. Raynor says your name to draw your attention back - escaped into the cosmos - now forced right back into the couch in her office.

“Seeing someone? Talking to anyone?”

“Sure.”

“Anything else?” She raises a gesturing hand, a silent command for you to speak further. To give her further information. Personal information that’s yours. Safe in your head. There’s no point giving that out to others.

“Just talking to him is all.”

“So neither of you have met in person before?”

Lips rolling inward, thinning, you shake your head. “No.”

Your name is drawn from her lips as a low sigh. She scrawls something down in her notebook, albeit a little aggressively.

“Money is being wasted each and every time you come in here, sit on this couch and say nothing. Resolve nothing. Time is being wasted, time you could be spending out there, actually bonding with someone who you may call a friend or a significant other.”

“I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

Her eyes roll up to meet yours, the split second you manage to meet her eyes, you see the scrutiny. The disdaining judgement and patience that wanes thin for every drop of time in the remaining minutes left.

“That wasn’t even two proper seconds,” she notes, “and yet, you come to your sessions each time.”

“Because if I don’t, then that same concerned family chews my ear off about it.”

Another two minutes pass by. You count the ticking hands slowly. Far too slow. When will this fucking nightmare end? Dr. Raynor continues to pounce her pen on the pad’s paper, the sound a distant, drumming beat.

“From what I’ve gathered, your siblings all have partners of their own, some of them beginning to grow their families. Am I correct?”

You nod as your teeth sink into the inside of your lip. “Right in the ballpark.”

“And you are so comfortable with being alone because it’s all you know. You’re afraid of letting someone in. You rather keep your guard up than ever risk giving someone a chance to love and accept you. I have another patient just like that. Shut off from the world and distrusting.”

It’s like she read your mind. You almost applaud her for her scooby doo investigation. “Wow, way to keep the confidentiality, Doctor,” you breeze through a forced, tight smile, eyes still cast to somewhere else in the room. “It’s better to keep people at arms length. Easier to detach from.”

“And is that what you’re doing with this guy? Keeping him at arm’s length?”

“Sure. I guess.”

Three minutes remaining. You breathe a sigh of relief.

It’s almost over.

Then it lingers on your mind… “Tell me because I’m curious, but why are people obsessed with the idea that being alone is such a bad thing?”

It’s closing in on one minute. A single minute she has to deliver you an answer. Of course, usually she disregards questions like this. But today, she indulges. Maybe, just maybe, this is your way of breaking through to her. To finally and truly give her something to work with.

“I will tell you what I told another patient of mine. Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.”

The chiming of the appointment’s bell signifies its end. You’re eager to stand up from the couch but Dr. Raynor holds a hand up. “Before you go running off back to your lonely hell, I want you to perform at least one exercise.”

At first, you mean to brush her off, your eyes refuse to meet the piercing stare you know is burrowing into your soul, seeking you out in the darkness of your reservations. “Alright. Sure…”

“If you’re interested in this guy, I want you to make the first move and ask to meet up with him. Begin to lower your walls.”

You’ve done it. Just as she asked of you. In hindsight, you should have just ignored her. In honesty, it’s been a while since your heart has bruised your ribs with such intensity in its anxious rage. What if he said no? Neither of you had ever really flirted heavily or indicated that you were head over heels, eager to see each other.

As if you both just knew, you were each settled comfortably in this mutual exchange of words. No video, no voice messages or calls. Just words. Conversations about work, some random things happening during the week and other topics people chat about.

You were meant to feel brave in that moment. To feel invigorated as you take that daring leap of faith outside the comfort of your own space. A safety net you had taken great care to curate, to save yourself from ever falling to the ground with no will to get back up.

In your mind, you’ve seen your siblings go through enough failed relationships that it in some strange way, you’ve experienced it on some outside level. You’ve gained the knowledge that if you let someone - a stranger - in then they will find a way to hurt you one way or another.

But what about that lucky person? That destined soulmate everyone raves on about. Could you really stand going through failure after failure, after seeing the damage it caused your loved ones?

Why risk it? I’m just putting a target on my heart that says “hurt me, please!”.

However, with the following silence after, you believe you had your answer. He wasn’t interested in you. He just wants to remain mutuals. You understand that, you accept it wholeheartedly. It saves you from getting hurt, from him getting hurt and that’s all that matters.

Having your heart broken because you allowed love to blind you to rational thought isn’t something you’re wanting to bring to one of your appointments.

Around ten minutes later he responded. His answer leaves you in a state on the bathroom floor, on your arse, back pressed against the sink cabinets and your chest heaving for any amount of oxygen. The world’s closing in around you, it’s turning against you. Eyes watering until your waterline is drowning and blurry, your hands rake through your hair and grasp at the roots.

The olive branch you extended is received by him whilst your mind spirals into the pools of doubt and sabotage. He’s accepted your bold invitation.

How can I go on a date? I can’t keep eye contact, I don’t know how to act or what to say!

What do we talk about in person? How much is too much?

Maybe it was a mistake. Would it be rude if you pretended it was a joke? You think it over once, then twice. It plays on repeat what you plan to say to get out of this ordeal you’ve now thrown yourself into. You get another notification that lights up your phone screen.

Be nice to finally meet you 7 tomorrow night sound good? ┗

Sure! 7 sounds good heh ┗

there’s a place not far from where I live I like to go to.. unless there’s somewhere else you wanna go ┗

Ugh, why does that sound so… so… desperate? I should probably call it off right now before this gets out of hand.

I’ll see you there Doll just name it ┗

Your heart flutters at the nickname. It makes you feel childish and you cringe that you find yourself swooning over it, but every time he uses it, there’s something that makes you feel special. Like you’re the only one he calls that. After you text him the address, you pass the phone away, leaving it to sit on the sink’s edge. Hands cupping your face, the tears still seeping along the rim of your eyes with a fighting intent to be free. For so long you have kept them bottled up.

And now to be faced with this. You don’t feel ready to be doing this. Your fingers had been hovering over the keys, mind already texting that you had made a silly joke just to see how he’d react. But Dr. Raynor’s words from earlier that day crept into the forefront of your mind, stopping you in your tracks.

‘Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.’

“You haven’t been having nightmares lately. That’s good,” Dr. Raynor says, notebook sitting in absence on her folded leg, pen loose between her fingers. So far, she hasn’t had to write much. A few notes, a sentence or two. Overall, she sees a little more progress. Even if it’s just a little.

“And the girl you’re talking with. Have you two been communicating much lately? Do you think that, maybe, she could be a benefiting factor?”

“We’ve been talking,” Bucky answers with a nod, voice rumbly. “I don’t know.”

“Your nightmares stem from the decades of trauma that still need to be thinned out of your system. And there are outlets that can help with the healing process. Nurturing relationships is one of them.”

As if he hasn’t heard that line before. Being told to nurture his relationships.

“Tell me more about her. What’s been going on between you both?” For a moment, Bucky remains quiet. His teeth roll his bottom lip, biting down before his lips part. Gaze once settled elsewhere, his eyes find hers with firm contact.

The type of contact she wishes she can see from you.

“She’s asked to meet up. I’m seeing her tonight.”

“I understand you two have been talking for a while. Around three months now, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“And… How does that make you feel? You finally have a chance to meet someone face to face and take this relationship to the next stage.”

The question had come right out of the blue for Bucky. After a day out in the field with Sam, all he wanted to do was shower, have a beer and see if you had messaged him. And the conversation had carried out like normal with asking about each other’s day, followed by some playful banter. And then, Bucky was faced with the one topic that had been on his mind for the past few weeks, plaguing him with the idea of possibly meeting each other after all this time, to put a face to a name.

But to think that this could bridge into something further. Something far more intimate. Bucky’s shoulders push up with a heavy sigh.

“I dunno, Doc. I’ve been thinking about meeting her. But being by myself for so long now, it’s normal for me.”

Dr. Raynor squares her shoulders, eyes staring point blank like the barrel of a gun at her patient. “A hurdler doesn’t avoid the obstacles. You have to take that leap, James, and explore these new possibilities before they slip through your fingers. From what you’ve told me, she sounds similar to you.”

“And if things don’t go as I hope? If she pulls away?”

“Then pull her closer. And give her the chance to pull you closer. Start to trust in someone outside of those walls.”

You pace back and forth along the wide strip sidewalk, the night’s air chills you through your clothing. But at this point that could just be the nerves. Why did you have to be bold, why did you have to actually listen to Dr. Raynor? Arriving just a little before the agreed time, you took the time to rehearse things over. Maybe squeeze in a little practice before you make a complete idiotic display of yourself.

By now, you guess it’s just past 7. How the hell are you supposed to know who he is if you’ve never seen one another before? Man, now that you think about it, you really didn’t think this through.

Last time I do any of these fucking exercises…

Quickly stealing a glance down at your phone to get a read on the time, you see you’ve received no message yet.

Maybe he… changed his mind last minute?

Well that really makes you look like an idiot. Shit, you really could slap yourself into tomorrow for getting baited into your own doings. You barely register the thrumming heart of a motorcycle’s engine roaring down the street beside you, purring lowly to a stop.

You shrug to yourself suddenly, the leaping of your heart coaxing your anxiety to grow further, as doubt shrouds over. Your feet shuffle to carry you back in the direction of your favourite ice cream joint. Might as well pick up a little frosty snack on the way back home.

“Okay, I’m stupid. He’s not— oop–!” Someone is the poor victim of your distracted escape, their body is large and broad, arms circling around you to catch you from tripping onto the hard concrete.

“Oh, shit! Sorry!” you groan, eyes quick to seek out a face only to glimpse away as soon as you note the intensity of bright blue; gaze focused solely on you as if you were the only thing that existed.

“All good,” he says. His voice only brings to shake you, slightly husky and the oh so perfect pitch. You do your best to straighten yourself and from his hold, out of habit, you’d grown used to not being touched unless you were the one to initiate it. A skill - or rather lack thereof - you’re not very proud of. Not that members of your family made it any easier whenever they pointed it out.

Distant. Closed off. Stiff.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I was… just uh, was meeting up with a guy.”

“Hmph, me too,” he breezes with a deep exhale. You try to ignore the way your peripheral picks up on his body’s outline moving. “She wanted to meet here.”

“Huh, good spot. One of my small hang out spots.” Your balled fists only curl tighter into the pockets of your jacket as another chilling wind attacks your body. Maybe you should settle on a hot beverage instead of some ice cream.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Really nice.”

You both stand idle by one another, the air beginning to lace heavily with the tension of your interaction, both awkward in your butting spaces. Bucky spares a more studying glance at you. A sleeveless, cropped turtleneck with a leather, hooded jacket layering over, you opted to keep the palette simple with your dark, skinny jeans and heeled boots.

You looked dressed up to be on some casual date. Whoever it was you were waiting on was a lucky guy, Bucky thought. In no disrespect to the girl he was messaging, but he figured he would have shot his shot with you had it not been for this mystery girl.

“You hang around here a lot?” he questions to come off as casual and laid back as possible.

“Oh, sure. Yeah… I like it here.”

Bucky finds himself smiling at your response. Strange, he figures, how you seem familiar. Still, he catches on that he hasn’t gotten a proper look at your face. It’s like you're purposefully avoiding looking at him. Did you know him? The aided curse of his sensitive hearing allows him to hear the rapid racing of your heartbeat, like a poor hamster terrified out of its mind.

You can feel him staring at you with the occasional glimpse down at his phone, held in his gloved hand.

“Goodluckwithyourdate. Bye.” You say it far too quickly, it takes Bucky a moment to decipher what you’ve said. His head snaps back and forth in a double take, catching you already walking down the sidewalk, huddled in close to shield yourself. How he knows that feeling internally.

Now you’ve gained his full attention. For Bucky, there was some missing piece to all this. He’s quick to type. Just a little experiment…

Here, Doll, just waiting on you ┗

His jaw tightens, teeth clenching in his observation. You stop when your phone buzzes to life in your pocket. Retrieving it, you read the message. Bucky only has to wait for about a minute before he sees the message.

Ha, I was here first. Where are you?? ┗

You tell me Doll… ┗

you don’t happen to be wearing knitted gloves, right? ┗

Your brows furrow for a moment. How could he know, you haven’t even–

Slowly, you lift your eyes from the blaring screen of your text messages. He now knew it and to think he’s the guy you were waiting on. If anything, this is some fortunate, golden strike.

As your gaze moves to fall over your half turned shoulder that faces back towards him, he manages to catch half of your visage and the radiant haven of your eyes, what little you allow to show.

“I take it you’re Y/N.” He smiles a toothy smile. With any luck, his attempt to charm will work.

“And you’re Bucky?”

He nods in response and you let yourself wander forwards, phone tucked away and your arms folded together.

“I–I, uh… wow, this is embarrassing ,” you all but mutter to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

“How so?”

“I suck at meeting people,” you utter a little louder. Your shoulders shrug with the motion of your confession. You only dread the look in those blue eyes that you can’t bring yourself to glance up into. What if you see something that gives away his intentions? What if you give away what’s going on in your own mind to him, for him to see all the fear right there like an open book to be read. Knowledge to be obtained and used against you.

“Maybe if you looked at people once and a while,” he chuckles.

Oh… he likes someone who can maintain eye contact.

“Yeah, what a shame. Oh well, nice meeting you.”

The abruptness cuts him. Wounds him like a dark chill that runs his spine. His shoulders straighten then and the bevel between his brows grows in depth, the puzzlement of his confusion evident on his face that you don’t take the time to read. Not when he can easily catch contact with your now glossy eyes.

Again, you’re making off in a hurry.

Pull her closer, it’s the only thought that crosses his mind.

“Wait, wait up!” he calls out quickly, voice sharp that he sees your entire body flinch at the command, but you carry on. He doesn’t want to scare you away. His gloved hand cups over your elbow.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says with a sigh, “I’m bad at meeting people at times too.”

“Really?” You don’t mean to sound distrusting, if he interpreted it that way, each to their own at the end of the day.

“Yeah, that whole… dating scene is crazy these days.”

You cannot find yourself more inclined to agree with that. Seeing how much the world has changed around you, and you’re only in your twenties. Plenty of more room to change. Thinking about the future is what you consider an anxiety inducing pass time, one you try not to get carried away with.

“Tell me ‘bout it,’ you huff. You flex your ankle, the heel scuffing softly against the pavement, hopefully grinding some form of inspiration to make you less awkward. Though you fear the damage has been done.

He chuckles. “Glad we’re agreeable in person. C’mon, mind giving me a tour of your little hang out?”

“Sure,” you agree with a small smile, brushing aside a stray wisp of hair, “I know a little place up this way.”

“I like your gloves,” Bucky says, clicking his tongue, when spared a moment he glances off to the side in his miserable cringe, what the hell was that move?

But he didn’t expect for your chin to be raised a little higher and a much warmer smile to grace your lips. Wow, he still couldn’t get over it. A cute, beautiful girl like yourself happening to be the one he’s been communicating with all this time.

“Thanks.” You suppress a giggle, the sound small in your throat. “Look. Glove twins.”

Seeing you raise your gloved hand up, he saves you from any further embarrassment and meets yours almost immediately, palms straight and pressed together in a mockery to a high five.

“Well, look at that.” His lips tug into an amused grin.

For a second you meet his gaze, but as quick as anything, the connection is lost. As you drop your hand back to your side, you feel warmth creep into your cheeks. How your lack of eye contact can be a burden at times. All you want to do is look at this guy, get a read of him without the need to sneak fleeting glances whenever you could.

All you can settle on now is that he’s down right cute. Handsome.

No way this guy is single. How some chick could just give him a false number. My number.

You wander further down the street together, side by side, occasionally arms brushing against one another before you stop and jab a thumb at the small bar. “Here it is. Heh, quaint place. I, uh… like coming here. Obviously.”

While he’s distracted with his observation, you take a few seconds to actually look at him.

Casually dressed, so much like yourself. Chiselled features, intense yet stunning eyes you believe you’ve ever seen, and broad. Damn well towering high above you. Next to him, you feel like a gummy bear. Why that comparison, you have no idea, but you find it fitting.

Thus so far he doesn’t put himself as intentionally dangerous or harmful, not towards you anyway. You’d bet all that’s in your wallet he’d cause some serious damage if he wanted to.

“Nice little joint.” You hum softly and nod in agreement, eyes sinking low to instead scan the fabric of his jacket instead of his reaction when you know his gaze is on you.

You bob your head in the direction of the door, indicating him to follow you inside. But Bucky, if anything, was raised in the century of etiquette and manners. Especially in the company of a woman. Your smaller, gloved hand reaches for the door until his own comes forward, pulling the door open for you.

“After you, Doll.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Again, that warm crimson settles in your cheeks, causing the rest of your body to heat up, soon enough you won’t need the gloves and jacket to keep you warm.

You lead him over to a window booth, sliding in over the overworn cushions and he takes the one opposite you. Not too soon after does the regular waitress greet you with a pearly smile, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail.

“Y/N!” she gasps widely, “So good to see you. What can I get you and your man tonight?” She flashes a wink down towards you both. Out of sheer interest, Bucky’s eyes drift to land on you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly into a smirk.

“Wh– he, oh no, he’s not– we’re not… just the regular, thanks.”

Tongue tied. You fucking hate situations that plant you on the spot, on your arse. Like an ungraceful landing after jumping the wagon. Fuck, you’re making yourself look even more weird in front of him. Why this sudden need to act like a normal human being around him is present, you find it confusing. But from trial and error, you’ve always somehow managed to mark yourself as a strange one.

It was better to keep things short between interactions. But with Bucky, something has come over you that makes you want to trust him. Be open with him. But you know you can’t. People can hide their true nature for lengths at a time that they deem necessary. You’re not about to give this guy a loaded gun to turn on you.

With a nod, the waitress nods and writes down in her notepad, she looks to Bucky expectantly.

“I’ll have what she’s having and can we get two beers with the order.”

“Can do. That will be with you both shortly.” With an affirmative nod, the waitress heads off to deliver the new order.

“If you just want to dip any time during… this, then I understand.” For the second time tonight, Bucky’s face contorts with deeply rooted confusion. His smile is the product of his being unsure whether you’re serious or joking. “Why would I do that?”

Your shoulders move up sharply with a shrug.

Because you don’t want to be around me.

“I’m not leaving you by yourself. You asked to meet up and I’m here.”

Touching words that you wish to believe in them wholeheartedly. Surely though, he’s only saying that out of courtesy.

“I tend to stay out pretty late towards the weekend.”

Now it’s his turn to shrug. “So do I.”

Once the food and beers arrived, you found it easier to distract yourself, able to roll the bottle between your hands, feeding off of your meal bit by bit throughout conversation.

“Like I said before, don’t feel obligated to stay out late. Don’t want to keep your girl waiting.” A small tactic, albeit you disbelieve that it’s very discreet, it’s an obvious tell that you want to know if he’s single or not. You’re no expert in the dating pool but that just has to be right up there in some top ten listed prompts.

“Not leaving you. I don’t have a girl waiting on me, don’t worry, Doll.” You almost choke on your next bite, drowning it down your throat with a gulp of beer. You almost meet his eyes, opting to focus just below them. There is absolutely no way in hell this guy is single.

Bucky figures he’d shoot his shot, now that the identity of mystery girl and you were one and the same.

“Hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind I’m stealing you for the night.”

Why did he word it like that?!

“Ha. Boyfriend,” you sigh, mouth pinching towards the side. Briefly, you notice the furrow in his brows.

Dammit, why is he so fucking cute?

“No boyfriend,” he drawls lowly over the rim of his bottle.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He can tell by the way you roll the singular word, emphasising the p with a sharp popping sound. Bitterness.

“Why?” He watches you intently as he takes a drink of his beer, meanwhile, you're turning your bottle left and right, like trying to crack the code to some safe.

Didn’t want to risk getting hurt.

“Just…” You pause with a heavy sigh, heat covers your eyes that you now direct to stare down at the table. “Never made the effort, if I’m honest.”

“You like being alone.”

“Prefer it, actually. Easier that way.”

Of that, Bucky completely understands. After everything he’s been through, being alone has just made things simple. Lonely but simpler. He notices the many couples and maybe it would be nice to have someone there. But how can he find normalcy after everything he’s done? Is he deserving of it?

He wants peace. Dr. Raynor believes that’s bullshit but she can’t understand that he wants peace for himself. To feel comfortable. Accepted. Perhaps loved, if any deity or supernatural entity from above condones it.

But then, why are you so comfortable in your loneliness? He wonders about it.

“My doctor keeps telling me to try and engage with people. Open up. That sort of shit.”

“Mine too.”

Another funny coincidence you both find in each other. During your time talking over text, you both managed to find out you attended doctor appointments. Therapy and not by your own choice either. By some other force that dictated you needed help.

“People are so afraid of being alone these days. World’s dangerous, sure, but so are the people you thought you could trust. But people are desperate, I guess. They’ll risk it.”

Bucky cannot help the way the corner of his eyes curl slightly, lips stretching into a pursed smile to contain his amusement as much as possible.

“What?” you ask, head tilting slightly, your eyes having now settled on the booth’s texture right over his shoulder.

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “You often on the defensive when it comes to people?”

“Have to be. Don’t know their intentions. Could be anything.”

“And what about me?”

You shrug again, gaze torn between meeting his and keeping it far, far away. “Like you said before, if I looked at people once and a while. But I can’t. So I’ll never know, I guess.”

He frowns slightly at this. If your body language is telling him anything right now is that his question pushed you into a corner. You felt trapped when confronted by his curiosity. You didn’t answer him, not exactly, but if your response did anything it’s that you tend to avoid answering when you get pushed.

You don’t seem to be the overly aggressive type up front. But if backed into that corner, that is when you may very well lash out. A defensive tactic. A once victim tactic.

Both of you are pulled from the thicket of your scattered thoughts and silence when the waitress returns with the check. You begin to shuffle around in your pocket, obtaining your half of the meal when Bucky stops you.

“My treat,” he says and hands his money to the blonde worker.

“N-no, that’s okay. I’m fine with paying my side.”

He tuts you with a shake of his head, eyes penetrating your very soul for the moment you meet it.

Don’t look at me like that please… heart’s going too fast. Just let me pay for my food.

“I was born and raised in a time that I pay for the date. Let me cover it.”

Not that you have much choice to argue. He’d already handed off the money and the waitress took away your finished plates and beers.

Your bottom lip curls outwards into a pout. You feel bad that he felt like he had to do that. For him to pay out more than what was required.

In that regard, he leans back slightly, chin held higher a little more. He believes he’s won this round. But if anything, you’re adamant to pay him back.

“Here.” You slide the bill towards him, ignoring the way his eyes narrow slightly to your challenge. “Just accept it, please? I’ll feel better knowing I didn’t waste your money.”

Reluctantly, he nods and accepts the money and you mumble a soft thanks.

Time flew by as you both wandered together, giving him a general tour of the area. Small bouts of banter passed between you both, and general topics of discussion like work and time passers were made to fill the void of silence. Even still, you kept everything at surface level, never really exploring any deeper thoughts, much like him. But those very rare glimpses were only brief glimpses into one another’s life.

At least you both could report to your respective doctors that you tried, still in the dark that Dr. Raynor was the host of your separate appointments.

Coming through the way you came you reach your initial meeting spot, the sidewalk more open with people now on their way back home at the later hour.

“No, Sam just talks too much,” Bucky grumbles in his chuckle, an amused grin forming on your lips. He could just make out the rows of teeth.

“Sounds like a fun guy.”

“Definitely.” You hear the grumbling breathlessness in his tone. When he glimpses to his side he finds your eyes, quick to steal whatever he can get of those capturing colours that are far too swift to avert.

Fuck. Can’t even make it to five seconds. I’m getting nowhere with this eye contact exercise.

Following him, he leads you over to his bike and your eyes narrow curiously. So it was him that owned the motorcycle you heard earlier that evening.

“I guess this is where we part ways for the night.” You bounce your head in the direction of your place. “Was good finally meeting you, Bucky.”

That didn’t sit well with him. A lot can happen on the walk back to your place and he didn’t feel completely ready to let you go for the night. Eyes tearing between you and his bike with quick thinking, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. He hoists a leg over his bike, straddling the seat and rolling his arm to beckon you closer.

“Why don’t we go for a quick ride? Then I’ll drop you home.”

“Nah, besides I’ve never… I-I’m good. I like the walk home.”

Bucky is quickly picking up a sort of pattern. Still, he can’t shake the need to just hang around you a little longer, nor the guilt he’d have for just leaving you. Chivalry at its finest, he shakes his head sternly, dismounting the bike, you see the way his body moves fluently with the action.

Fucking stop doing that!

Your mind is dancing two different dances. Rational thought and that bubbly, giddiness that often leads swooning victims into blinded trouble.

“Alright, we’ll walk together then.”

“Wait– you can’t just leave your–”

He begins to lead you off in the direction you’d motioned to before. “I’ll come back for it.”

“Bucky.” He sees the defiant pout and crossing of your arms. Indeed, a cute sight to behold.

He smirks, and shit, you couldn’t meet anything above the bridge of his nose then, but did you admire what you could.

“It’s your call. We can either walk or take the bike.”

He’s played a few rounds of this game already with you. Numerous times you’ve had to choose between one option or the other, a few of those being a tad embarrassing, but his assurance provided some semblance of comfort.

But what felt like a game before now feels like more than that now. Before it was fun, easy and not serious. This, however, was not a round you can simply forfeit from. It’s either option one or two.

Your chest expands with a large inhale. Blinking, you contemplate and weigh the options. “We’ll take the bike.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make a rider out of you, Doll.” It didn’t help the flush that scorches and freezes your body simultaneously when he adds a wink to his witty flirtations.

You try to not let it get to you. Not to let goosebumps riddle your skin and send your nerves endings aflame. But he’s making it hard. He leads you back towards the bike and he grabs the helmet.

“Here, you can use this.”

You focus on the protective helm and though you mean to protest, worried about what he’d do about himself, he’s already tucking your head in.

You make a small noise as he wriggles it in place and through the visor, you can finally meet his eyes.

With the blacked out visor to shield your eyes, you finally and truly admire the - unfortunately muted - hue of blue that entrances you, intense as the hottest levelled flame. He’s smiling down at you.

“How’s it fit?”

“Good!” you call, giving him a thumbs up. He nods with that assurance and directs you to mount the bike behind him. But you’re going shy on him and he cocks his head slightly, brows knitted in their concern.

Even when you preferred to be the one to initiate contact, that didn’t mean you were used to or fond of it. What if you held him too tightly, or what if you touched him somewhere he wasn’t comfortable with.

Mounting the bike behind him, you at first put about an inch or two of space between you both. “Get on closer.”

You fail to hide the mousey squeak when his hands pull at your thighs, tugging them forward until they rest against him, your hands find purchase on the broad space of his shoulders.

He does it cautiously, he seeks out your wrists when they slide down the scape of his back, and you - warily - let him pull them around his torso. He exhales slowly, giving himself a second to comprehend having your hold around him. Why does he feel this way? Now that he has you like this, he can’t bear to think about losing it.

“Hold on tight now,” he instructs and with a heavy bob of your head, thanks to the helmet, he lets the engine purr to life and he feels your arms grow a little tighter.

Rolling the bike back a little, he lets a car pass by before he speeds off down the way, the bike’s roar pulses through your entire body until for sure you’ve gone numb and you only hold onto Bucky tighter.

The surge of adrenaline fills you until you’re on high, blood boiling hot in your veins as he flies through the traffic. For taking things usually at your own pace, it felt good to have a little speed kick in.

Taking a sudden turn to the left would have made you question your decision to take the bike - should have scared you - but it didn’t. Not with Bucky. For what feels like ages now, you feel that you can trust him.

“How you doing back there?” he asks, straining his voice to yell over the bike’s power. You doubt very much he’d be able to hear you, not when you only just managed to hear him, you opt to nod your head vigorously. He feels it against the muscles of his back and his lips tug upwards.

Accelerating slightly more, he feels your body grow giddy, jostling a little as you laugh behind him while he weaves through traffic. It really shows that you’ve never been on a bike before now. And since that’s the case, he’s determined to make it an unforgettable experience.

With any wishful thinking, you’ll want to go for another ride with him.

Bucky puts the now overwhelmed engine to rest for a little while, all thanks to his plan to impress you. “Here we are.” He lets his eyes rake over the few story building, a little settlement of apartments, currently parked round back that shows a short paved walkway to your backdoor. Going through the front door was usually hectic with your neighbours, good people honestly, but after a tiring day it could get a bit much.

This way, you could be left alone.

“This is me,” your voice says through the helmet. You dismount before him and unlike Bucky, your movements aren’t as well versed. But for him, that just adds to your charm.

You let him stand close to you as he retrieves his helmet, being gentle to pry it off.

Once that visor is gone, so too does your resolve to look into his eyes, the connection lost with the helmet’s absence.

“Thanks for driving me home. I… had a good time.”

“You’re welcome.” Bucky’s lips thin into a smile. This was it then, the end of your little outing together. He doesn’t want to come off strong but how can he be so sure that you’ll be so bold again? How long would he have to wait?

That’s why he’s pulling you closer again. It may be scary but at this point, he’s willing to risk it, if it means to have another meeting with you. To see you again.

“Well, goodnight Bucky. I’ll talk to you—” You’d only begun to turn towards the narrow walkway when you’re stopped. Pulled back until you’re practically flushed against Bucky’s front. He’s pressing something into the palm of your hand. Thin, like paper. Peering down, you see the bill you’d given him.

However, you don’t have any other choice when his other hand tilts your chin up.

Oh no.

“Give me five seconds,” he breathes out, voice hopeful. Your chin trembles, only just able to look at him through your lashes, but even then your focus dives downward, but his fingers remain to keep your head from bowing.

“I-I can’t…”

“You can. Take your time.”

Why he’s doing this, you have no clue, and why he’s willing to be patient; it’s just downright confusing. Who in their right mind would have time for this? At times, you barely have enough time to deal with your own shit.

To save himself from waiting for a literal eternity, you rip the bandaid, and you meet his eyes. No visor, no secretive glimpses here and there stolen. You stare straight up, right into those blues that can very well drown you.

Your lungs tighten and struggle to maintain a steady pattern, you feel the welling of tears glass over your eyes with each second you count. Slowly.

One… two…

His eyes remain gentle with you. Tender and kind. You’re not seeing anything… bad, like he wants to hurt you. he could be hiding it really well. But for yourself, you’re sure he can see every single rational and irrational fear, every painful memory in your teary eyes. Your vision begins to cloud, like the fight to stay above the crashing waves.

Three… four…

Buck’s hand lowers slowly but you don’t register it. You can’t. It’s something that occurs in the background, unattuned to it. You see in those wonderfully coloured hues that he's just as haunted as you are or even more.

He’s lonely as you are. Afraid as you are. Shadows of his own past, you can see them. Made him into the person he is in front of you. And you can’t blame him, no matter what it is that haunts him.

You see a once victim in him just as much as you see in the mirror every morning.

“Same time next Friday?” he asks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. His chest expands as he holds his breath.

“Sure.” You share a smile between you two, cheeks glowing warm and bright red.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Him leaving the proximity of your personal space leaves you gasping for air, blinking the tears in your eyes rapidly, you watch him retreat to his bike. Until next Friday, you’d wait to see him then.

“Talk soon, Doll,” he calls out with a wave once he’s atop his vehicle. Looking at it now, you can still feel the vibrations in your legs.

“Mhm. Until then.”

You take your leave then, entering your apartment and shutting the door behind you in tandem with him riding off into the night. Planting your back against the door to ground you does little to affect, still you’re floating.

This new feeling welling inside your chest, a flutter in your stomach… It scares you. Is this feeling why people are afraid to be alone? You don’t know what to think.

All you do know is that you gave him ten seconds.

#treehouse taglist #the dark demeter writing catalogue #bucky barnes x reader #female reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #angst #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you

135 notes · View notes

ieatangstforbreakfast · 6 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]

⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.

You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.

Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.

“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”

You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.

“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”

“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”

“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”

And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”

“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”

He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”

"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."

You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.

"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.

"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”

“… Future child bride.”

“Future enemy of the state.”

“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”

“At least I got a daddy.”

And the squabble just went on and on.

Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.

Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.

But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.

Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.

But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.

“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.

“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”

You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”

“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”

Your nose scrunches. “Why though?”

“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”

It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.

But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.

“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You laugh, lightly pushing him away.

“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.

“Ionno ‘bout that.”

His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”

You stare a long stare.

I do.

“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”

“What do you want, Miles?”

And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.

"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"

You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.

“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”

You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.

"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"

There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.

But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.

“In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.

“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What do you mean you? You can’t do nothing, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”

“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“

“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”

Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”

Normal.

“Us.”

Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.

"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"

You hold onto him a little tighter.

“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”

Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”

“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”

“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”

“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.

“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”

That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.

“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”

He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.

“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”

“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”

“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”

And there it goes again. The economy.

And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.

And, admittedly, it was unfair.

“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.

“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”

He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”

“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”

Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”

Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”

He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”

He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”

Your mouth hung open.

“… I never thought of it that way.”

“Mhm.”

“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”

And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”

“.. Elitist?”

“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”

You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.

“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”

He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”

“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.

“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”

And you ponder.

How long would it take before you start hating me?

How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?

How long would it take before you discover the truth?

From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.

“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”

And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.

You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.

“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”

“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”

And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.

He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.

And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.

“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”

“… I—“

“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

You laugh at his remark.

“Fine.”

It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.

It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.

After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.

The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.

Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.

It’s unfair.

One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.

You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.

But Miles didn’t have that.

His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.

You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.

One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.

Step. Step. Step.

As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.

A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.

Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.

You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.

I can’t wake up Malachi.

You place your hand over your mouth.

Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.

But you think, and you think.

Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.

And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.

Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.

“… Where have you been?”

You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.

Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.

“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.

“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.

“… Miles Morales?”

Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.

“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”

Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He clears his throat.

“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”

Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.

“Did you know about that too?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.

“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now

Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.

He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.

+17479256640 || Just now

This is your nephew, right?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.

At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.

I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.

That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.

“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”

And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.

“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”

You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.

He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.

His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.

‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’

Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.

He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.

Aaron Davis || Just now

who’s this?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“… What’s happened to you?”

It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.

“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”

The sister he grew up with?

Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.

He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.

Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”

“… But if you’d just give me the job—“

“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”

Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.

And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.

You were everything like her.

No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.

Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.

“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.

“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”

The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.

“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”

You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.

“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”

“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.

“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”

It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.

But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.

“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“

“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”

You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.

“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 || Just now

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You replied || Just now

No.

His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…

He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.

God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?

Ding.

+17479256640 || Just now

Sent an attached file

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.

“What is it?”

And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.

“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”

And with his jaded breath, he answers.

“.. The Prowler.”

243 notes · View notes