#Couldn’t blink freely had to do like one blink two fast blinks one slow blink

[ciderjacks]

ocd is weird bc I definitely still have it, I just got really good at identifying it and shutting it down. Like I was taking down a gross medical sticker on my wall that for some reason I stuck up there last year, and my brain was like “no don’t do it. You’ll die if you do that” so I put it back on and my brain was like “or…maybe life will get way better if you take if off. And if you leave it life will get worse. Want to make that choice” and I was like really stumped over it, then suddenly I was like ohhhhh ocd you tricky devil… and tore the sticker off. I go thru this exact experience about thrice a week.

[aetheternity]

Synopsis: Early morning is the perfect time to worship your favorite archon's body.

CW: Body worship, submissive Venti, Morning sex, afab reader, you/your pronouns, very vanilla circumstances, Minors do not interact.

A/N: I say switch Venti supremacy then neglect to write him as a bottom as well. :/

This early in the day you could faintly see a sparkle upon your lover's skin. Maybe it wasn't really there. Perhaps you were simply imagining it but rays of orange and bits of yellow had begun to creep their way into your shared room between the slightly parted curtains. Decorating his exposed neck, shoulders and bits of his arm with the most entrancing light. Sheer beauty among his already godly form you ghosted a few fingers over the beautiful markings along his chest not wishing to wake him. He wasn't even stirred in his sleep at the moment, his eyelids stuck closed and his mouth hung open in perhaps the cutest little 'o' shape.

How could you want to do anything outside of kissing him everywhere when he was this cute?

You bit the bullet. His skin feels so soft beneath your lips as well and as soon as you have a taste you can't begin to stop. Trailing your lips along his jaw before working your way down his pulse point. Within a few more seconds you're greeted with soft whimpers and a gentle hand cupping the back of your head.

"Windblume?" He questions and you can tell he has yet to open his eyes. "You're so excitable this morning." A little hum crests off his lips.

Now you can properly greet him and you don't hesitate ducking your head down to his lips. He's still not fully with you of course, his kiss soft and fleeting. Though if anything that works to rile you up further. You hands going to his cheeks to tug him into you. Delighted by the smallest moans escaping his lips.

"Good morning." You pause to allow him and yourself a chance to breathe.

The smallest slivers of green finally peek out from beneath rising eyelids and he stirs enough to welcome you into his arms. His fingers tracing the dip of your spine, pausing at the base of your back.

"Good morning my love." A kiss, then two. "I'm guessing you slept well." He breaks off his words with a slow yawn. You can't exactly blame him of course. He had gotten in extremely late last night and now you had him up extremely early this morning.

"You know what I remembered?"

"Hmm?" His smile feels almost delirious. It's endlessly soft though you can still tell he's not quite with you by how long his blinks are and the amount of his actual pupils you can see when he opens them again.

"You don't have to leave for hours." You sneak a fast kiss against the shell of his ear. "You're not playing your songs till late this afternoon and I.." He hums as you pause your sentence to litter his cheeks and forehead with a barrage of kisses. "Don't have anything at all planned for today." You grin.

"So this is it hm?" He shifts to get more comfortable, pulling you closer to him by your shoulders. "This is what it feels like to have my partner. in my arms. for more than an hour?" His kisses make you giggle and squirm accepting each one with unrelenting eagerness. "I love it.. don't leave my side until I have to go?" He whines

"I love you, Venti."

"I love you more." His eyelids finally give into fatigue and shut.

"Impossible." You whisper, you reach a free hand beneath the covers sliding your fingers into his before bringing it up to sit beside his head.

His lips part but no more words leave his mouth. He grows still and you watch the softening of his features. Untied strands of his usual braids sticking to spots of his face. Eyebrows relaxing and rising along his features. You felt almost rude thinking it but he looked far cuter without his hat. It allowed his little ahoge to bounce freely atop his head though currently it remained stagnant as his head did.

For a brief moment you only focused on watching him trying to push the devious thoughts from your head. He couldn’t possibly look more perfect, breathing so softly beneath you. It almost felt as though you were staring at a painting hung atop a wall, so beautifully framed. And your only thought currently was about waking him up.

He looked endlessly peaceful! You shouldn't wake him up, he'd barely gotten any sleep last night. On most normal days he'd have his performances earlier in the day but yesterday he'd played late into the evening for a couple bottles of wine. You however retired early, returning home before him as you'd been helping out the elders in your village the whole day and hadn't felt like rushing off to catch his performance by the end of it. When he'd finally returned you were already asleep.

Of course now with a well rested more leveled head you felt a bit shameful for skipping out on him. He had invited you too but you'd barely been able to keep your eyes open by the time the sun had finally set. This was Venti, he definitely wasn't upset.. however..

You shifted your weight off him and only now did his eyes flutter back open. "Mm, Love?" He rubbed at his eye turning to look at you.

The thin blanket wrapped across both your bodies slipped down your back as you readjusted. Every bit of his naked form now in perfect view for you to see and you drank it all in quite hungrily. Your thighs locked his hips in while you pulled his ankles up to your shoulders giving one side soft open mouth kisses.

"I won't keep you awake too long I promise." You say, slipping your hands down to his waist and along his ribs.

He simply yawns again, when his head shakes it causes his unbraided hair to flutter against his cheeks. "No.. it's ok I can take care of you and we can cuddle after.."

"You're always taking care of me." You shove his chest back. With a little oomph he collides with the pillows again. Definitely more awake than he has been all morning. "I want to take care of you.. I want to.." For a brief moment you pause, heat starting to rise to your face. "Worship your body." You finish

He simply blinks though he doesn't offer any further words of protest. He instead lays his head back completely at your whim, allowing you to trail your light kisses down his ankles, across his calves and over the back of his thighs. You find yourself quickly switching legs, excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach over kissing the marking along his thigh.

It never seemed to matter how often you kissed it, brushed a finger across it or even saw it admist the darkness when Venti was plowing into you it never failed to feel sacred. So endlessly beautiful even in your now brightly lit room. You almost wanted to suck marks into the spaces above and below it, feeling endlessly powerful at the mere thought of it but you refrained for now other desires needing to be sated first.

You slid a hand down the spots you had already kissed, thumbing the marking you loved endlessly. You had to give into temptation a little after all. It was only a human emotion. You'd spent quite a bit more time on that spot then you'd originally wanted to, sliding your tongue along such a sacred area and applying endless kisses was quite addictive. Without Venti's tiny shudders you might have forgotten he was still with you.

You finally take a break from his thighs, coaxing your mouth back up towards his lips. He was definitely awake now, judging by the flick of his tongue across your lips begging sweetly for entrance the second you slotted your mouth against his. His taste only working to further arouse you. Your free hands tracing every dip of his skin from the warmth of his arms, over his chest and down to his adorably perky nipples.

He didn't even begin to hide the hungry moan that fell off his lips, allowing you to deepen the kiss swallowing his every noise with each tug on both of his sensitive buds.

"Name.."

"Mm? What's the matter? Is someone a little sensitive this morning?" You tease, repeating the action. Pleased with the hitch of his breath when you did so.

Venti rarely got like this. You'd noticed after a year long relationship. The most often times being when he was drunk or if he was fatigued for any reason. He'd become so easily drawn to your touches, begging for more with the softest look as he allowed himself to fall to your whim.

"I like that.." He murmured "A little har-.. yes perfect.."

This time when you leaned into him, he reached both hands out to cup your face. Your foreheads pressed so tightly together as you slotted your lips with his. Every inch of his body arching and stretching out towards your touches. Just enough that you'd made his every exhale that much breathy.

"More.. give me more.."

You break away from his lips, kissing along the length of his neck with quick loud pecks, along his collarbone and down to those pretty peaks you'd been teasing. Without hesitation you laid your body weight directly onto his, sucking his nipple into your eagerly awaiting mouth. Meanwhile your free hand coaxed itself agonizingly slowly over his cock head.

He gasped, watching as you shifted to his other nipple encircling the bright pink areola with your tongue before sinking your teeth into the skin. Impressed by how quickly the color his chest began to change.

"Windblume, I want to be inside you.. please." He complained shivering when you gave his bitten nipple more kisses.

"Be patient, Love. I wanna make this amazing for you." You brush loose strands of hair back from his sweaty forehead.

His thighs soon tugged into your grip. Arms sliding between them before taking leverage beneath his lower back to keep him still. His cockhead had leaked between your fingers and you took a second just to lick up his precum before mouthing over his sensitive tip. Even such a small touch seemed to strike a cord with him as his tip jerked against your lips, leaving drops of precum along your cheek.

You knew he was growing impatient. You could feel it in the way his legs shuddered beside your head and the grunts he let out whenever he squirmed to push closer to your mouth. But how could you not kiss such a pretty cock, up and down his gorgeous length. Show it all the care in the world because it'd always done right by you in a similar fashion. You unhooked one arm to use your right hand to angle it toward your mouth. Your tongue flat as it ran all the way back to the tip circling the tip with sweet kisses.

"You're in such a teasing mood this morning.. any particular reason?" He asked, pressing a hand over the back of your head. Gently, not at all demanding just scratching at your scalp with delicate fingers.

"I'm not trying to tease. I want to give your body the attention it deserves." You give his tip one more kiss, darting your tongue out to catch the precum against your lips.

"You say but most of what you're doing is teasing." He fires back with a sweet grin. When you lean back in it's to swallow his cock down with ease. You give him a minute, just one minute to relax into the feeling before tugging your head all the way back, only the tip inside until you're pressing your nose back into his pelvis.

His moans of your name are sharp. Exhaled breathily with every bob of your head not leaving him any room to get used to the feeling. A feeling which only felt more heightened because of his once unconscious state.

If it were at all possible he stiffened a touch more inside your mouth. Driven in ever deeper by every rut of his hips slowly begging for the release you'd been keeping from him. He whispered tiny praises and little thank you's all the more needy with every word. All of his reactions so so much more endearing, from the smallest quiver of his thighs as you ghosted your fingers along his markings. To the moans of your name.

And you fed off it. Grateful for such a cute subby version of your archon boyfriend. Practically light as air as you pulled him in as deep as you could go purposefully trapping his too sensitive cockhead in the depths of your throat.

"Does this feel good Barbatos?" One of his eyes peeks open, tear filled. "Seems like you're getting kind of close."

His cheeks had bloomed the sweetest pink. A color you wanted to kiss off his face it was utterly precious. He gasped long and loud when you took your place back between his legs not even trying to hide how sensitive he'd become with the way his thigh violently shook.

"If you don't slow down.. I'm gonna.. I.."

You didn't hesitate now to tug your lips off his lower half. With one hand on his chest for leverage you arched your back welcoming his long pretty cock with ease. A smirk on your face as he unabashedly moaned long and loud for every single inch sliding into your perfectly fuckable cunt.

Shaky hands found your waist and he braced himself for you to immediately snap your hips but was instead greeted with a quick kiss on his lips.

"So.. sensitive.. Just need.. a minute.." He slurred, so obviously and quickly drunk off your pussy.

Your walls sucked him in so tightly he could weep, just hugging onto you trying his hardest not to cum just from the threat of movement alone. With a shaky sigh he let go of a breath he'd held onto for awhile, slowly pulling you along his length at a pace he could manage.

"You're so wet.." He chuckled shakily "I want a taste.."

"You're fucking me!"

"I know but.. oral.. when you're this wet.. is always.. amazing." He whimpered "You'll let me right? When we're.. done? Can I..?"

His lips slot easily against yours and you fasten your pace. "If you're not too tired." You giggle

"Look at who.. you're talking to.. the guy that got you in Angel's Share and made you cum three times.."

"And Charles caught us.. we had to clean the whole bar.. mmhm.."

"You're missing.. the big picture.."

The mattress creaked loudly almost drowning out the chorus of pleas falling from Venti's lips. His hips awkwardly bucking into your heat as though it'd become his life line. The drag of his nails along your back setting fires in the pit of your stomach. Every slap of your meeting skin echoing perfectly off the walls.

"I'm almost there.. Mm gonna cum.."

He leaned up for a kiss and you reciprocated, messily tugging your tongue into his mouth. He tugged both hands up to your cheeks pulling your lips off his to whisper his impending orgasm upon your lips. The sweet confinement of your walls ultimately proving too strong as he found himself spilling inside with no amount of holding back.

Within a couple seconds after you were reaching your own peak atop him. Spilling around him with soft moans to your beloved Barbatos.

You collapsed on top of him, simply reaching for his free hand to intertwine your fingers. For a moment the two of you had returned to the peace you'd experienced upon first wake. Though the roles were severely different, Venti now pressing kisses to your sleepy form.

"Don't fall asleep, Windblume." He giggled pressing his lips to your cheek. "What happened to letting me eat you out? What are you too tired?" He teased with the same tone you'd used only moments ago.

"So sensitive.. I just need one minute."

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[idy-ll-ique]

A Day Well-Spent

Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: It's like... fluff to the extreme

Warnings: mention of guns

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N has just moved to Brooklyn and doesn't know how things are there. Bucky Barnes runs things around Brooklyn but what happens when they meet? Will she run away or will she still shoot her shot?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay, first of all, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH. also i think im obsessed with mob fics????? chile anyways so... enjoy!

---

"Ready to go, sweetie?"

"You know it, babe," Y/N grinned at her friend, Clarice. The two, on their way to work, had stopped by a coffee shop for their daily dose of caffeine. As they walked out of the café, Clarice turned to Y/N. "Finish your story! What did Brad say to you after that?!" Clarice reminded her and Y/N giggled.

"Oh, he was just too sweet! But not my type, ya know what I mean? I didn't know how to turn him down," she sighed. "Poor guy. If he had approached me…" Y/N lightly shoved her friend. "I have his number, should I pass it on?" Clarice turned to Y/N, wide eyed. "Darling, you're too good to me," she spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent.

Y/N burst out laughing. She had moved from another part of the country to Brooklyn for education; along with attending college, she was also working as a waitress at a nice little restaurant. That was how she met Clarice, her being another waitress at said restaurant. The two became fast friends.

Clarice was a few years older than Y/N, a single mother with a 4 year old son. Her son was extremely cute. As Y/N continued laughing, she didn't notice how her friend stopped in her tracks. Clarice was busy staring at the huge hunk of a man a few feet ahead of Y/N, standing in the middle of the pavement with his phone held to his ear, his back to them.

Bucky Barnes.

That man was James Buchanan Barnes, the King of Brooklyn. He ran the whole damn city along with his mob; very important and influential. On top of that? He was hot-headed, easily got angry and people knew what happened when he got angry. Except Y/N. Y/N didn't even know who he was.

As Y/N neared Bucky, still laughing for some reason, Clarice thought of calling out to her. And alert him of their presence? No way! "Clarice, you know I love it when you do your acc—" All of a sudden, Y/N collided into a soft wall, spilling her coffee all over it. Opening her eyes, she found out that it was no wall; instead, she had collided straight into a person.

And drenched his back with coffee.

He was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit and Y/N immediately felt guilty. "Oh my goodness, I'm so fucking sorry!" she blurted out as Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to look at her. His men, who were loitering around, had her surrounded as they pointed their guns at her. But she didn't notice.

She was busy staring at Bucky, her jaw slightly dropped. Hot damn, he is good looking, she thought to herself. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she snapped out of a daydream. He had a stern expression on his face and she realized she messed up. He's someone important. Then she started apologizing profusely.

Bucky simply stared at her, taking in her features as he gave her a once-over. She's new, he realized, not from Brooklyn. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he chuckled and she immediately shut up, offering him a timid smile. "I really am sorry, I feel like a total ass. That suit looks expensive, sir, is there any way I can help? Maybe pay for dry cleaning?"

"Do you know who I am?" he instead asked and her brows furrowed. "Oh Lord, am I supposed to know?! One mess up after another…" she grumbled and Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. My name is Bucky Barnes, you may call me Bucky." At this point, even his men were surprised, lowering their guns.

Clarice was still standing there and one of the men caught her eye. He nodded his head towards Y/N and Clarice gave him an unsure smile. He sauntered over to her. "She's with you?" he asked and Clarice groaned, dropping her head. "She's new to Brooklyn, and has no idea who he is. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

The man smiled at her. "No worries, looks like the boss isn't gonna hurt her. I'm Sam, by the way." Clarice gave him a shy smile. Sam was also very good-looking. "I'm Clarice, nice to meet you." Better to remain on the good side of the mob. Back to Y/N and Bucky… "Bucky, that's a good name. Short for anything?"

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. It had been years, years since someone outside of the mob had spoken to him so freely and without fear. It felt nice and refreshing, even more so because Y/N was super gorgeous. "James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Named after a president, huh?"

"You making fun of my name now, doll?" he smirked slyly. "Oh no no, I wouldn't dare," she flirted easily, "My name is Y/N. I still feel bad about ruining your suit, you won't even take the money…" Bucky waved her off. "First, Y/N is a wonderful name. Second, you don't need to worry your pretty head over me, this suit can easily be replaced."

"Then how about this? A coffee. My treat. It'll make me feel better," she insisted. Bucky raised a quick brow, thinking that he would be the one to ask her out but oh well, this works too. "Let's call it a date, shall we?" he purred, taking a step closer to her. She didn't back off. "If you'd like," she grinned up at him.

He couldn't help but grin back. "Excellent. Then how about you put your number in my phone and I pick you up next Sunday at 7 pm?" He thrust his phone into her hand and Y/N swore she heard someone gasping in the background. Bucky Barnes was a very private person but here he was now; handing his phone to a stranger.

She quickly put her number in his phone and handed it back, smiling. "I'll await your call." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to go now, so I'll see you later. Say hello to your friend from my side. Sam! Stop flirting, man, we gotta go!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see his friend flirting with Clarice.

She laughed and turned back to Bucky, who was already looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. "I'll see you next Sunday, Mr Barnes. Again, sorry for the suit!" He waved his arm in dismissal and got into the car, throwing her one last blowing kiss before zooming off. Y/N walked back to Clarice, who was staring at her, jaw dropped.

"I know the hell you didn't just do that."

"Did I do something wrong?" Y/N frowned. Then, all of a sudden, a wide grin bloomed on Clarice's face. "Do you even know who you're going to go on a date with next Sunday?!" Y/N blinked. "Is he someone important?" Clarice made a sound of indignation. "Important? Bitch, he's the Kingpin! The King of Brooklyn! A mob boss!"

Y/N's eyes went wide. "No way," she scoffed. "Yes way! Ask anyone! He runs things around here, babe. It was fun to see him all soft, though, he's kinda hot-headed and hard to impress. Even women stay away from him. And now you two are going on a date?! If this relationship does not end in a marriage I'm suing."

Y/N flushed slightly and punched Clarice on the shoulder. "Clair, we haven't even gone on one date." Clarice shrugged. "A girl can dream. Oh, your children will be the most beautiful! Did you see his right hand man, though?! Mamma mia! Said his name was Sam Wilson, I got his number!" The two reached their workplace.

Inside Bucky's car, he was still smiling, lost in thoughts. "So, that chick, huh," Sam spoke devilishly from the driver's seat. Bucky looked at him. "That's no way to talk about the future Mrs Barnes," he admonished and Sam chortled. "Dude, you haven't been on even one date! Slow down, chicks don't like dudes who plan out a marriage on the first date."

"But I know I'm right, so why shouldn't I plan?" Bucky shrugged. He was more than confident that Y/N was going to become his in the future. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, flirted with him… it was enough for him to become smitten with her at the first glance. "What about you and her friend, huh?"

It was Sam's turn to become flustered. "Clarice Light. Has a 4-year old son, Aaron." Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "A mother. Well-maintained looks," he commented, laughing when Sam punched him on the shoulder. "Why don't you think about your own chick and leave mine alone?"

---

Y/N frantically smoothed out her dress, checking herself in the mirror. She wore a beautiful, nude coloured bandage dress that reached mid-thigh, along with similar coloured heels. Bucky was coming to pick her up in 5 minutes. Even after finding out who he was she didn't back away, instead finding it empowering that the most important man in Brooklyn wanted to take her out on a date.

All of a sudden the bell rang, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was a huge bouquet of red roses right in front of someone's face. He then moved the bouquet to reveal his face and Y/N smiled broadly. "Bucky!" He grinned back at her. "Hi, doll! Here, an extraordinary bouquet for an equally extraordinary woman."

"You're too flattering. These roses smell amazing, thank you so much." She took the bouquet from his hands and kept it away, stepping out of the house. Bucky offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the building and towards an audacious, ridiculously expensive looking car.

"Everything about you is lavish, huh?" she teased as he ushered her into the passenger seat, sitting next to her. "Bad to have a taste for the finer things in life?" he teased right back, placing his hand on her thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel. "No, I mean, you are the Kingpin. I should expect luxury."

He glanced at her to see her grinning at him. "You found out?" She nodded. "Yup, Clarice told me as soon as you left. I don't mind though, I'm just wondering… why me?" He laughed. "Why you? Sweetheart, you are the first person aside from Sam who has talked to me so freely since… since I was 18. And you're gorgeous. So why not?"

"Again, with the flattery…"

"Just stating facts, my dear."

"Also, my friend has a crush on Sam, so do tell him to ask her out." Bucky laughed harder. It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so much. "Really? He has a crush on her too! I guess I'll tell him tomorrow." Y/N looked out of the window. "Where are we going?" Bucky gently squeezed her thigh. It was clear he wasn't taking her to a café, like originally planned.

"A picnic in the park." Y/N's eyes lit up. "I love picnics!" she squealed. "Then I guess I made a good choice," Bucky chortled along. The two soon reached the park and Bucky got out of the car first, holding the door open for Y/N to step out. "A gentleman," she noted, making him grin. He then took out the picnic basket from the backseat.

Y/N laid out the classic pink and white checkered blanket that he had brought along, taking off her heels before sitting down. "Ugh, I'd have worn pants if I knew I was going to be sitting on the ground," she groaned as she somehow sat down, adjusting her dress.

"You look gorgeous in that dress though," Bucky commented, "But you don't need to worry about public indecency because it's just you and me in the park." Y/N blinked at him as he sat down, opening the basket and taking out food. "Just us? You booked the whole park?" Bucky smirked at her. "It's easy when you run things around here."

Y/N fondly shook her head. "So much effort." He winked at her. "All for you, doll, all for you." The two maintained a chat as they ate. "So, you're new here. Why did you move to Brooklyn?" Bucky asked her. "Education. I go to [Name] college, actually, and work part-time as a waitress for some additional income," she hummed. He nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you? Is the mob a family business or a start-up?" Bucky smiled at her boldness. "Family business, my dad used to run it before me. I was 16 when I took over." Y/N realized what must've happened and gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bucky returned the smile. "It's fine, he was no saint."

"No?"

"Yup, hated him actually. Used to be cruel to my mom, to me too… until he got shot. Best day of my life." Y/N gasped quietly. "Bucky! He was your father!" Bucky chuckled mercilessly. "An asshole is what he was. Geez, speaking of, my mom is gonna be so happy."

"What's her name?" Y/N took a bite of her sandwich. "Winifred. She's awesome, raised me and my sister alone, ya know? Dad was always too busy. My mom will like you, I can tell. And so will my sister." Y/N smiled at that. "A sister?" He nodded, excited to talk about his family.

"Rebecca Barnes. She's a few years younger than me, maybe your age. She goes to your college too." Y/N suddenly squealed. "You mean to tell me my best friend from college is your sister? Rebecca Barnes?!" Bucky smiled so wide he thought his cheeks were gonna tear. "You've met her?" Y/N vehemently nodded.

"She's really great, the only person kind enough to introduce herself on the first day I moved in. She was the one who showed me around campus and I found out that she mostly spent time alone because no one wanted to talk to her, her brother being involved with the bad side of law or something. But I didn't care. I still don't. She's awesome, you're awesome."

Bucky felt himself tear up at her words. "Doll, you have no idea how much that means to me." Y/N grinned at him, scooting sideways so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm serious, you know. I can't wait to tell her about this." Bucky laughed in a watery tone, pressing his lips to her temple.

The two quietly ate after that. When the food was over both of them lay down on the blanket, looking up at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful," Y/N whispered, cuddling into Bucky's side as she stared at the gibbous moon. Bucky wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Y/N laughed quietly and looked up, the same time he looked down. They met each other halfway; their lips connecting softly yet eagerly. Lost in the kiss Bucky sat up, pulling Y/N on his lap as they continued making out. Finally, after what felt like hours did they pull away, breathless. They said nothing; Bucky looked at her as if she hung the moon.

Y/N stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world. "So, when will I get a second date?" she broke the silence, leaning down to press her forehead to his. "Oh, doll, you're not getting rid of me any time soon," he shot back, laughing. Y/N giggled along and stood up.

Both of them packed their things and got into the car, Bucky offering to drive her home since it was late. So I guess it had been hours. As Bucky drove, Y/N's phone chimed. He glanced at her when she laughed. "What's so funny?" Y/N wheezed before answering.

"I've got two texts. One from Becca and one from Clarice."

Bucky couldn't stop his chuckle. "What did Becca say?" Y/N read out, "Girl, just heard you're on a date with my bro? And I— I swear if you don't become my sister in law, I'm suing." Laughter filled the car. "She really said that?" Y/N nodded. "Yup! Even Clarice, on the day we met, said the same thing! It's nuts. We just met and they're already planning a wedding."

"Speaking of, what was Clarice's message?"

"Oh nothing, just that she got back home from a date with Sam a few minutes ago."

"What?!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That asshole had work today!"

"Bucky!"

All in all, it was a day well-spent.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[shorkbrian]

How about some barbarian bakugo noncon?

Prelude - One time I came home from a walk and smelled this scent so freaking thick that I could taste it, and I almost threw up cause it smelled like skinning a deer but like, ten times worse?? and I was like lol that’s kinda weird and it turns out the neighbor had caught a skunk in a catch-and-release trap (which we gave him cause we didn’t want him catching a skunk in a trap that’d kill it) and apparently decided to kill it right then and there, and just let it by the edge of his property, right by my car. That was fun. 

Anyways, Katsuki makes a big deal about reader looking different in this. You can take that any way you’d like. Personally, I was feeling insecure about my freckles (I have so many that my skin almost looks even-toned because they almost all touch rip) and my hair color/odd face so I wrote him liking that reader looked different. It’s not super deep lol

Pairing - Bakugou Katsuki X Reader X slight Izuku Midoriya

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, voyerisum, exhibistionism, blood mention lol. Idk groping?

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeWr4OsidcJClBjUEBHWI?si=OPHwLWXrTsiNQ42SlMKLEg

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There is a point where you stop screaming.

A point when you realize that no one is coming to save you, that you’re wasting your breath, that it’s fruitless. Does nothing more than raw your throat and grate against your own ears.

It’s no use. The Barbarian King seems unaffected, perhaps even spurred on by your ear-splitting screams. There’s no reason to scream anymore - it’d be impossible to scream forever.

——

Village in flames, corpses littering the streets. You’d heard about the stench of death from books, from traveling warriors who stop in your village for a night, regaling the people with tales of heroics and strength. It smelled quite different from what you had imagined though.

Metallic, yes, but tangy, thick enough for you to taste the iron seeping into the ground. Raw, like the scent of the butcher’s shop, heavy and suffocating - you hadn’t been able to breathe.

Everything had happened so fast, too fast. People were dead, people were dying, people were killing and being killed. You had been running, trying to escape the stifling aroma of your village being drained, the barbarians running amok through the streets leeching out it’s lifeblood.

Then you had been falling, tripped up by a loose limb on the ground, a body still warm and rattling with it’s last breaths. Shocked by the vivid image of the gore underneath you, a man reaching for his severed arm, you hadn’t been able to catch yourself as you fell, a cry leaving your lips.

Darkness.

And then light as you slowly blinked to awareness, slumped on the ground. A line of prisoners, prizes from the raid. You were one of them, hands bound to your neck, ankles tied to the people on either side of you. Two men had come by after a while, a green haired man in dress similar to your own - perhaps a captured man from the village?

The other man was bare chested, as many of the barbarians were, gold and red paint swirled across his skin in intricate, sharp patterns. He looked fearsome, and he barked at the green haired man accompanying him who scribbled furiously onto paper at each utterance of the fearsome blonde man.

They seemed to be going down the lengthy line of prisoners, assigning them? Selecting them for something? You didn’t know, couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were numb, sealed off from the horrific event you had just experienced, safe within your cocoon of forced apathy.

And then the two men were in front of you, the blonde man silent as he stared you down, the green haired man with his pen poised, though he studied you also.

But they quickly moved on, the barbarian barking something at his companion, before striding to the next prisoner.

You had been untied from your fellow captives, led through the barbarian camp. Red tents, warm fires and laughter filled the space, bare-chested warriors of both genders celebrating their recent victory.

The large red tent you had been led to was warm, a fire crackling in the deep pit in the center, silky furs softening the harshness of the ground. There was a table in front of the fire, a large basin filled with water nearby, close to the fire. A desk in the corner, near the tent flap, and a folding screen hiding the back of the tent from view.

Promptly tied to the leg of a table, you were left alone, the woman who had dragged you here leaving before you could ask what was happening.

Shortly, green hair popped through the tent flap, quickly followed by the rest of the man from earlier, the one dressed like your people.

“Izuku Midoriya!” He had introduced himself, giving a little flourish as he bowed, before being pushed aside as the fearsome blonde from before entered the tent.

Still tied to the leg of the table, numb to the world, you merely stared at the ground when the two men approached.

“What’s your name?” The green haired man - Izuku - asked.

He was met with a blank stare.

The blonde man growled at your lack of answer, spitting something in his native tongue, words you didn’t understand. Izuku seemed to shrink, before turning to address you again.

“Please tell us your name. Kacchan is not the most patient man.”

The fearsome man beside him bared his teeth towards you, and you shrank back. He did not seem the type of person who tolerated being left waiting.

“(Y/N)….” You whispered, eyes falling to the ground.

“(Y/N), ah! Such an interesting name, the first part means-“ Izuku was cut off from his ramble with a shove from the blond man - Kacchan - who crouched down in front of you, rolling your name around his tongue.

Turning, he spoke to Izuku in the same jumbled language, who listened, then addressed you as Kacchan turned back to study you again.

“Kacchan would like to know uhm, uuh.....” Izuku trailed off, uncertain eyes flickering between you and the blonde.

Kacchan scoffed, listening to Izuku’s hesitancy with disdain, saying something directed at the younger man, yet Kacchan’s eyes were fixed on you the entire time. It was intimidating.

“He uh, wants to know ifyou’reavirgin.”

Oh god.

Even though the man’s words were rushed, you understood, limbs beginning to shake. You were going to be violated.

A finger poking your calf made you jump, the blonde man leering at you, head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised as if to say “Well?”

You shook your head - lovers had existed in your life, not many, but you still cherished each one deeply, thought back on the experiences you shared fondly.

When relayed this information, the blonde man seemed to grin even wider, rising to his feet. “This will be easier then, no need to go slow.”

With a gasp, you lifted your gaze, wide eyes taking in the man hovering above you. His words were completely forgotten as you took in the shock of understanding his words. He spoke your tongue? Wasn’t he using an interpreter? Why-?

The confusion must be apparent on your face, because Kacchan scoffed, turning to stride to the table, taking a seat facing the fire.

“It pays to play dumb.”

“Loose lipped locals give information more freely when they assume that Kacchan can’t understand them.” Izuku beamed, crouching down in the Barbarian’s previous place to begin untying the rope binding your hands and feet to the table leg.

“Stand up for me please.”

You did as Izuku asked, shakily rising to your feet with a helping hand from Izuku on your arm. He began leading you towards the basin nearby, Kacchan watching the two of you with sharp eyes.

“Do you need help with the fastenings?” Giving Izuku a confused look, your eyes fell to the basin, to the fire, to Kacchan seated at the table. Were they going…. Were they going to boil you alive? Eat you?

Trembling even harder now, it was only Izuku’s surprisingly strong grip on your arm that kept you upright, knees giving out beneath you.

“Help her out, she’s damn near useless.” Kacchan’s strong voice cut through the air, the air that seemed too thick, the air that was choking you, throat closing up.

What does one even do in this situation? Do you beg for your life? Scream for help? Who would come? Accept your inevitable fate?

There was no time to make a decision, however, because Izuku’s nimble fingers were pulling at the fastening of your dress, quickly unlacing it.

You were numb again, fingers leaden, legs heavy, mind fuzzy and listless. Izuku peeled down the top of your dress, and you barely thought to cover yourself - you’d be dead in minutes anyways, what did it matter?

Still, your hands rose to your breasts, shielding them from view involuntarily. Kacchan snorted from his sweat, but said nothing.

When you were completely bare, an arm over your chest, a hand over your sex, Izuku ushered you towards the basin, prompting you to step into it.

This was it, you were going to die.

One last shot of fear raced up your spine, and you turned to the green haired man by your side, his hand falling away from the small of your back. “Please, please don’t kill me, I don’t know what I did but please spare my life. Please, I’m sorry.”  Tears were burning your vision, throat choked up with thickness.

Kacchan burst into laughter. “I’m not gonna kill you, the fuck?! Goddamn, your people call us barbarians yet you’re afraid of a bath, fucking hypocrites.” There was a mirthful glint in his eyes when you looked at him, the man leaning back in his chair, arms resting behind his head as he relaxed.

Izuku chuckled also, putting his hand on your lower back again, gently pushing you towards the basin. “You’ll be okay, it’s just some warm water. It’s close to the fire because we don’t want you to catch a chill. You know, the human body actually operates best when it’s within the temperatures of-“

“Deku, shut your trap before I come kick your ass, just get the girl into the water, you dumb fuck.”

The water was warm, and it felt pleasant against your skin, just on the right side of too warm, hot enough to have you relaxing your shoulders as you sank down lower, the liquid covering you up to your neck.

Izuku-Deku? Held your hair out of the way, quickly using a scoop to wet down the strands before rubbing some kind of herbal scrub through your scalp, cleaning out the dirt and debris that had gathered during the raid. You were certain you were absolutely filthy, covered in mud and small scraps, half of your side crusted with dried blood and muck from falling in the bloody street.

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at your earlier panic, silly and like a stupid child, thinking that they were going to boil and eat you. It was clear now what their intent had been, but riddled with fear your thoughts had been clouded and slow.

Fear was still present, rolling through your brain in waves, goosebumps rising from your flesh as you tried to hypothesize what was going to happen to you. From their earlier questioning, you had a faint idea, but you couldn’t bear to think about that outcome, didn’t know if you could tolerate it.

Instead, you let the warm water soothe your body, washing away the grime and dust. Izuku’s hands were gentle in your hair, as he massaged your scalp, as he rinsed out the soap. You tried to ignore how his breath hitched whenever you shifted - you couldn’t keep all of your body covered, no matter how you positioned yourself.

His hands disappeared from your hair, instead prompting your to sit up straight so he could scrub at your body with a cloth smelling of the herbal soap.

It felt weird, and goosebumps arose on your skin as strange hands touched your body. You closed your eyes and endured, for there was nothing else that could be done.

Running would be a bad idea - a naked woman sprinting through the barbarian camp would surely be caught and violated, or brought back to this tent for some twisted punishment. And you could only run if you managed to get past the two men, who ere watching you like hawks, and much, much stronger than you.

Izuku’s hands paused briefly at your chest, eyes flickering over to the blonde man, who nodded in permission. Then Izuku’s hand were running the cloth across your breasts, washing them in gentle circular motions, taking care to not scrub too hard or push too deep.

You bit your tongue as you waited for it to be over.

And it was soon, at least that part. Then the green haired man was instructing you up on your knees, facing him. Telling you to grab onto his shoulder (the man was also kneeling) and spread your legs apart.

Trembling limbs obeyed, face flushing bright red as you followed his commands, eyes squeezing shut so you wouldn’t have to look at his own flushed face.

He ran the cloth down your back, over your ass, then slipped it between your legs to wash your sex with easy swipes of the cloth. The man’s breathing picked up subtly, and you could tell, leaning up against him as you were. His hands wandered, the cloth moving slower and slower upon your cunt, almost stroking at your folds, his fingers pressing through the cloth.

“Oi, Deku! Keep your shitty hands to yourself, you’re supposed to be washing her up, not feeling her up, shitbrain.” Kacchan barked, slamming his fist down against the table to get Izuku’s attention.

Both you and the man in front of you jumped, Izuku immediately blushing the deepest red you’d ever seen, flashing the blonde an apologetic look and you a nervous smile, before he seemed to gather himself, continuing to dutifully cleanse your nether regions.

It was awkward for the both of you, feeling his hands run over your private areas, over your sex, through your ass cheeks. But then he was down, rinsing you off with scoops of warm water before fetching a large towel, ushering you out of the basin, holding out the towel to wrap around your body when you stepped out.

Then you were ushered closer to the fire, sat upon a small stool as you huddled close to the warmth, clutching the towel tightly around you. The air was quite warmer than outside, but was still cold to your wet skin.

Izuku began running his fingers through your hair, parting knots, patting sections dry with a corner of the towel. By the time he was finished, you felt warm again, face rosy from the heat of the fire.

The heat felt pleasant, like the feeling of a full belly after a long day.

You were tired, exhausted from the emotional weight you had endured. Village burned, tripping over corpses and disembodied limbs, taken captive, forced away from your fellow villagers.  Stripped down and fondled - at this point, you just wanted to sleep.

To sleep and sleep, wake up and have this all be a bad dream. Some twisted nightmare your mind conjured up while in the warmth and safety of your own home.

A large hand upon your shoulder roused you from your half-asleep state, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the quietness of the tent. You jumped, turning to find Kacchan towering over you and Izuku both.

Kacchan crouched, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hair, then onto your cheek. “You look so fuckin’ weird.”

Izuku sputtered. “Oh my god, what he means to say, is that we’ve never seen anyone like you before. You’re… quite unique, and very um, attractive.”

You leaned away from the hand on your cheek, and Kacchan let you, red eyes blinking slowly as they scanned your features.  He was an odd man, as was Izuku. There was an obvious dynamic of power, Izuku submitting to Kacchan willingly.

“Alright, you’re dry enough, get up.” You blinked at Kacchan, processing his words, before he huffed out a breath, rising to his own feet. “C’mon, let’s go, are you stupid? Get the fuck up.”

You scrambled to your feet, towel still wrapped tightly around your body, preserving your modesty.

Kacchan’s hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you along with him as he strode towards the back of the tent, towards the sectioned screen acting as a wall.

“Deku, make your ass useful and dump out the bathwater, will ya?”

You weren’t able to see Izuku move due to the hand forcing your head forward, but you could hear his footsteps as he hurried to do what Kacchan instructed.

Rounding the screen, it was clear to see that this was where the Barbarian King slept, a pile of cozy-looking furs strewn in a pile on the ground.

You were promptly shoved towards them, stumbling down to your knees as you lost your balance. The furs provided cushion though, soft and inviting.

But you were scared again.

It was happening, it was going to happen, you were going to raped by the King.

Turning back towards the man, you began to plead, hands securing the towel around your shoulders like a safety blanket. “Sir, please, don’t do this, why me? You can have anyone, not me, please not me.”

He ignored you in favor of beginning to strip, unfastening his cloak, removing his weapons. You decided to try and appeal using a more personal approach.

“Kacchan-“

Suddenly the man was in your face, his own visage twisted into a growl.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that. Stupid ass Deku made that shit up when we were kids, I’m not some brat anymore. I’m Katsuki-“ He backed away from you, leaving you trembling. “-Barbarian King.”

The man resumed removing his clothes, dropping his belt to the ground, grumbling as he began to undo his pants. “Should beat his fuckin’ ass for calling me that, so goddamn disrespectful. Fuck him, stupid little ass wipe twerp-“

You tuned him out, frozen. What could you do? Another impasse where your options were none.

A strong hand gripped your shoulder, or more accurately, your towel, tugging it forcefully away from you.

“No!” You cried, trying to pull it back, to cover yourself, but the man was stronger, ripping it away before you could utter another word.

“No! Stop, please!” You tried again, finally taking in Kacc-Katsuki before you. He was naked now, aside from the paint decorating his skin. His cock was quickly hardening, plumping up with each step he took towards you as you scrambled backwards.

“Katsuk-Katsuki, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything! Please just have someone else!” You sobbed, back finally meeting the wall of the tent.

Katsuki smirked, crouching down just out of your reach. “You’ll do anything? You’ll let my horde use you as a toy then?”

Dread flowed through your already fear-filled body, and you gulped thickly, eyes closing.

“No?”

Shaking your head, you started to cry silently, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re already doing fucking anything.” Katsuki growled, hand shooting out to grab your ankle, dragging you down and towards him.

A high-pitched cry left you as he pulled you under him, until he was hovering over you, grinning. “Cry all you want, ain’t gonna change a damn thing. In fact-“ He surged down, until his forehead touched your own, red eyes blazing “-It just turns me on more.”

The man pulled away, a hand falling heavily around your throat, giving a compulsory squeeze before hie started moving his hand downwards, fingers skimming across your flesh.

Immediately, your own hands caught his own, trying to still their journey as they neared your breasts. Katsuki paused, a sound akin to a growl falling from his throat as his eyes flickered away from your body and up to your own eyes.

There was a threat there, a warning. Let him touch, or else. Trembling, you removed your hands, instead grabbing at the furs you rested upon. Katsuki made a gruff sound of approval, before resuming his exploration of your body.

“You’re like nothing I’vs ever seen before, know that? Like some fuckin’ alien or something, but damn, you’re gorgeous. Didn’t even know someone could look like this.” He mused, entranced as he watched his hands splay over your body, pinching at your skin, caressing your breasts, slipping over your stomach and down between your legs.

“Oh god, pleaseee-“ You sobbed out, cringing as a finger trailed down your slit.

Katsuki stilled, quirking a brow as he smiled meanly. “Please what? You wanna cum?”

“Please stop…” You whispered, eyes clenching shut again as he found your clit, giving it a few quick rubs.

The man scoffed, before quickly teasing one of his fingers into your tight hole. “Tough shit, I’ve never had whatever the fuck you are, I ain’t stopping”

His finger burned, dry and too large, and you struggled to keep from clenching down upon it in discomfort, trying to force out the intrusion. This would go easier if you relaxed, if you let him have his way. You knew that, rationally, but it was hard to make you body obey.

Katsuki prepped you quickly, fingering you open until he deemed you ready, withdrawing his fingers and crudely wiping them off upon your thigh. You twitched away at the wetness, at your own slick being cleaned off  on your skin, but Katsuki ignored you.

“Why do you look like this anyway? What the fuck happened?” Katsuki asked coarsely, shuffling off of your thighs, moving to lounge by your side, studying you.

The man seemed to be taking a break, more interested in your looks than fucking you, but you were glad for the reprieve, trying to wipe tears from your face as you struggled to think of a response.

“I-I don’t know?” You finally spoke, genuinely at a loss for how to explain your appearance.

Katsuki studied you with sharp eyes, a hand reaching down to his cock, beginning to absent-mildly pump himself while he looked you over.

“I’ve traveled through every shitty little village in the north, met with the damn piss-baby tribes of the east, I’ve ransacked the towns of spoiled nobles, and I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you.”

You sat up, subtly shuffling away from the Barbarian King while you shrugged, at a loss.

Your appearance wasn’t anything superiorly unusual, but apparently it piqued Katsuki’s interest. Yes, your skin was perhaps a bit different, but it’s not like you were inhuman.

Katuski seemed to get tired of talking though, settling further back into the furs, getting himself comfortable as he jerked himself off. You refused to look between his legs.

“Alright, whatever. Get up here.”

Pausing, you looked at him incredulously. Did he mean on his lap? His chest? You didn’t want to be anywhere near him - wouldn’t he find more pleasure with someone who was willing?

“Are you fucking deaf? C’mon, up.” He growled, patting his thigh, urging you over.

A gulp before you started moving, limbs heavy and hesitant, unwilling as you slowly crawled forward, towards the intimidating, impatient blonde.

You straddled his thighs unsteadily, swinging your leg over, trying to avoid touching his cock.

Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you caught sight of it, the red tip, the precum making his length shine, the wrinkly, darker skin of his balls, his blond pubes.

You cringed, distaste evident upon your face, and you heard Katsuki chuckle darkly before his hands grabbed your hips, dragging you forward.

“What, don’t fucking like what you see? Am I not to your taste? I’ve fucked whorebag princesses less fussy than you. Get over yourself.” He spat, before taking a hand off your hip, reaching underneath you to line himself up as his other hand kept you lifted.

You trembled in his hold, twitching and swaying to the side, but this was unavoidable.

A gasp left your lips as he entered you, tip slipping through your folds, teasing into your wet hole, stretching you out.

Katsuki let out a groan, slowly dropping you down until he could remove his hand from his cock, returning it to your hip, guiding you to push further down. You felt disgusting, his cock sliding against your velvety insides, dirtying your walls with leaking precum.

When your sit bones rested against his upper thighs, his cock resting fully inside you, it felt impossible to breathe, your chest rising to draw in air but failing, the distress you felt upon being speared open seemingly too much for your body to handle.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. You got a dirty little cunt, don’t you? Feels fucking amazing.” Katsuki groaned, moving his hips minutely, relishing the grip your inside had on his cock, how warm you were around him.

“Ride me, will you? I’m getting bored down here.” He snapped after a moment, delivering a harsh slap to your rear to emphasize his words, spurring you into tentative action.

Problem is, you didn’t want to.

Your palms rested against his heated chest, eyes raising to the ceiling as your cheeks burned. This was embarrassing, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be an active participant in your violation. What would that make you?

“Oi, princess - I don’t got all night.“ Katsuki growled, landing a significantly more-jarring hit to rear, hard enough to make you squeak and jump, hips twitching at the sensation of his cock moving around your pussy at the movement.

Afraid of more forceful repercussions, you started to move, slowly sliding up, then down, creeping along, hoping it’d be enough to satisfy the man.

It wasn’t.

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath, before tightening his hold on your hips, planting his feet in the furs, then plunging into you with force. The sudden movement jostled you, and you fell forward with a cry, head bouncing onto Katsuki’s chest by your hands, the man groaning as he found a satisfactory rhythm.

“There we go, that’s fuckin’ nice.”

You cried into his chest, hands clutched into fists as you were bounced up and down, the led slap of skin too loud and jarring in the tent. The paint on Katsuki’s body was beginning to smear, sweat dampening his skin and letting the paint drip onto the ground, transfer to your own skin.

It was starting to feel good, make your stomach tighten, limbs tremble with pleasure instead of fear, and you hated it.

Slick sounds reached your ears, out of rhythm with Katsuki’s quick prods. It was wet, pulsing, as if someone-

Gasping breaths reached your ears, not from the man grunting beneath you.

Another round of cold fear dampened your arousal as you honed in on the sound, realizing it was coming from the other side of the screen.

Someone was on the other side of the screen, listening in to the Barbarian King taking you against your will.

A stuttered cry left you when Katsuki pushed too hard, hitting your sweet spot, making you clench and shudder, forgetting about the other person for a second.

But they were so loud, little gasps and moans, and the shlick, shlick, shlick, was getting faster and faster, it was impossible to ignore.

Should you try to tell Katsuki? Would he stop? Would he be mad? It was so disturbing, knowing someone was sitting on the other side of the screen,  jerking themselves off so obviously .

“Katsuki-Katsuki wait, oh-“ You started, quickly cut off by a series of battering thrusts against your sweet spot.

But you had to try again. “Wait, sto-o-op, wa-unh, unh, Katsuki pl-mmh!”

“Shut up, I don’t fucking care.” The man snapped, out of breath.

“But there’s-oh…. Katsuki there’s someo-“

“I don’t /fucking care/.” Katsuki reiterated, gritting his teeth. He shut you up with another perfectly placed push against your sweet spot, and a cruel spank against your already-stinging ass.

“Ow!” You yelped, clenching up.  It was clear now, that Katsuki was aware of the listener, he just didn’t mind. Maybe he got off on it, knowing someone was listening to him take apart his latest conquest.

Clenching up was the wrong response, because the Barbarian King swore, before his hips sped up, bouncing you so violently on his lap that you found it hard to breath, barely able to hang on for the ride.

“Oh…. (Y/N)….” The voice behind the screen moaned lowly, almost whispering.

It was Izuku.

You shivered, at the sound, feeling creeped out with the knowledge that the gentle, timid “interpreter” was listening. He must have returned at some point from dumping out the basin. You were feeling revolted by this entire situation, disgusted with Katsuki, Izuku, and most importantly with yourself.

Pleasure was building quickly in your stomach, zapping up into your chest, making you tingle and shake with the sensations assaulting your body.

“Sit back, fucking sit back-“ Katsuki panted, pushing at one of your shoulders to push you up, so he could see you as he fucked up into you, watch your body move, your face contorting in pleasure.

You felt like you couldn’t help it, your eyes closing, mouth falling open to let out girlish, high-pitched moans.

Your breasts were being jostled, jiggling up and down with the movement of your body, and it hurt. Hands moved to hold them, stopping their bouncing, but Katsuki appreciated the view apparently, because he groaned, pushing his head back while still trying to watch you.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Keep touching yourself princess, keep moaning like a little slut. Let Deku know how fucking good I’m making you feel.”

Your body didn’t give you a choice, noises being pushed from your throat involuntarily as Katsuki pounded into you, red eyes trained on your frame, intense and unwavering.

An orgasm ripped through you, seemingly out of nowhere despite the steady buildup of it the past few minutes. You gasped, breathing catching in your throat, hips furiously grinding down against Katsuki’s as you rode it out, trying to stimulate your clit to intensify the feeling.

The noises leaving you were perverted; wet gasps, little squeaks and long moans as you fucked yourself onto Katsuki’s cock, previous hesitance forgotten in preference of chasing your pleasure.

Katsuki swore underneath you again, rabbiting his hips up into you in response, breathing raggedly as he neared his own release.

You were so lost in feeling the sensations in your own body, you didn’t register the stuttered groans on the other side of the screen, the speedy clicking of Izuku jerking himself through his own orgasm, the almost-silent spatter of his cum hitting the screen.

Katsuki swore once more, a vehement “Shit, shit!” before he pulled out quickly, orgasm apparently catching him by surprise, the first few warm strings of cum shooting into your warm cunt, adding to the wet mess of your own orgasm.

The rest was aimed onto the puffy lips of your slit, one of Katsuki’s hands leaving your hips to pump his cock as he gasped, hips twitching upward at the sudden temperature change from your burning heat to the air of the tent.

Then there was just the sound of three people breathing heavily, completely spent, sweaty and dirtied from sex.

Katsuki pulled you down onto his chest, chuckling breathlessly as he brought his clean hand to your head, ruffling your hair tiredly.

“Well, you’re a goddamn catch, pussy’s like a fuckin’ vice.” The crude comment made your cheeks color, but as exhausted as you were, you couldn’t find the energy to offer a rebuttal.

“I think you’re gonna stick around for a while.” Katsuki mused, and you felt your heart drop. “Yeah, you’re a keeper. Maybe if fuckface over there-“ The blond slapped at the screen “-can stop being a pervert, we could actually fuck without feeling creeped out.”  He growled, although the blonde didn’t sound irritated in the least.

A small “Sorry Kacchan” was whispered from the other side of the screen, and Katsuki laughed dryly.

“Tell you what bastard, maybe I’ll let you touch her a bit.” Katsuki said, a hand creeping down to knead at your ass. “Then you don’t have to act like a little freak. Who knows, maybe I’ll even let you fuck her if you do good translating those maps we found. Got it, you little shitnugget?”

“Mm, alright Kacchan.” Came the tired response.

You were barely awake, already drifting off on Katsuki’s warm chest, too preoccupied with the red and gold paint no doubt smearing against your cheek than with the conversation going on around you.

You could panic about that later.

[amethystpath-writes]

You’re Not A Villain

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again,” Villain’s voice bounced off every wall, making it impossible to know where exactly he was.

Hero swallowed, daring a step further into what she often referred to in her own mind as ‘my lure to Hell.’ “You say that every time.”

The voice seemed to dash to the right, even as Villain emerged from a hole in the cave straight across from Hero. “Because it’s true every time.” This wasn’t the first week the hero had been making these little visits.

Why would Hero return to such a dingy place? One where a man appeared as a beast- a heathen sent from only the universe knew where- to her. Villain was burdened with cruel appearances, being seen- always- as the worst possible image the viewer could imagine. Hero always saw a demon-ish looking creature in Villain; it made him want to ask her what the story behind such hideous monsters was. Him asking her would probably only freak her out more, though.

“So, why are you here again? This is the second time just this week. And I won’t even mention how many times last week.” Villain lifted his hand, attempting to rake it through his hair. He met a pair of horns half-way through the task. Grunting, and dropping his hands uselessly to his sides, he continued. “You should be running for your life at a random sighting of me. Instead, you deliberately walk yourself into my dome of isolation. It’s hard to run away in a cave, you know?”

“I know,” Hero squeaked, “but I- I…”

She did this every time- strutted in like she was made purely of confidence. Hero posed with it as she entered the largest ‘room’ of the cave, but her posture always fell when Villain’s voice echoed around her, when she realized she would be trapped with her greatest nightmares.

Why, Villain had to question again. Why does she keep coming back? He was a horror, a creature which caused the most deeply rooted trembles and speediest beating hearts. There were enough times that he made his visitors pass out from fear. It took some getting used to- frightening people to their near deaths.

Villain was a man once- and he was one now…just not to everyone else.

When Villain was alone in his cave, he was the greatest version of himself- gloriously human. One with curly locks and straight teeth from those braces he wore back in junior high. One with the heaviest pocketed dimples and freckles on his nose. One who was average in height, but strong from all the lonely workouts. He was regular, normal, average…but it was better than anything he could ever wish for when his reality now was so…so cursed.

Hero flinched, undoubtedly seeing something new sprout from Villain as her nightmarish imagination ran untamed. The last time she visited the cave, Villain felt a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Wings. It had been leathery bat wings- like something from Hell. Villain would have liked to fly with those wings had they not disappeared as soon as Hero turned her back on him.

Now, however, Villain was presented with something different. “My horns are on fire?” he guessed, as his head had become warm, to which Hero confirmed with a fast nod. “Lovely. You might like to make me fire-proof in that mind of yours, then, yeah?”

“I don’t- I don’t know if I can.”

Heaving a sigh, Villain took a seat on a large rock on the ground- could it be considered a boulder if he were tall enough to sit on it without having to climb? “You’re afraid it would make me invincible? Afraid I’d attack you without pause?”

“No.”

But she was. Villain knew Hero was or else she would have cooperated the moment he asked.

“Give me lead feet if you’re that afraid. My scalp is burning.”

“You’re hard- hard to talk to,” Hero said. At least she was able to get a grip on herself enough that Villain’s head slowly began to cool off.

“And yet you keep returning.”

“Because I’m a hero.”

“I suppose that makes me a villain.”

Her response was to take the teeniest step forward. Villain could see her foot shaking even as it just barely left the ground.

He was the cause of that tremble, and many others.

He couldn’t help it, though, and that’s what killed him. Villain didn’t want to be like this. If he had any choice in the matter, he’d be as average as anyone- below average even- if only it meant being loved, cherished, and- and cared for. This…this demonic presence that he lived as around others…it was painful- not just physically, but mentally as well.

“You’re not a villain,” Hero said, inching forward another frightened step.

Villain sat nearly perched on his rock-boulder, watching with an inclined chin and squinted eyes. What was Hero doing? “If I weren’t, you wouldn’t be so scared, nor would anyone else be. I’m a monster.” His voice wasn’t broken- as much as he felt that trait on the inside. Villain trained himself long ago to remain numb on the outside, to encase himself in a shell that screamed ‘self-preserved.’

Hero said, “I’m showing you that you’re not a villain.”

She was getting closer. Oh. Oh, Villain didn’t like this. No one ever got this close to him- even if it were in as slow steps as Hero was taking now. This wasn’t- this- “What are you doing?” The numb Villain worked so hard to achieve was crumbling to pieces the closer Hero got. Was he…was he shaking? “Step back, Hero. This isn’t a game. I could- I could hurt you. You should run and you know it. You want to run. I’m- I’m scary and I’m a monster.”

“Who told you that?” Why was Hero’s voice gaining more courage whereas Villain’s might as well have been a holey rag in the rain above someone’s head?

This isn’t right. This isn’t right.

“Who told you that you were a monster, Villain?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. No. No, she shouldn’t be this close. I’m a monster. I’m a monster.

“Who?” Hero pressed again, and this time…she laid a hand on Villain’s shoulder- on Villain’s bare shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Hero told the man beneath her hand, “You’re no monster to me, Villain. You don’t have to be a monster to anyone.”

Ever-so-slowly, Villain’s eyes blinked open. The first thing he saw was the veiny arm extending out from Hero. She was still nervous, but…but- “You’re touching me.” His voice was an exasperated and disbelieving whisper. “You’re touching me,” Villain said again- this time with an astonished chuckle. “They said this would never happen. Said I’d be alone and starving- craving what I can never have.” His eyes met Hero’s. “Do I…do I still have horns?”

The question of ‘Who-dunnit’ no longer mattered. “No, Villain. The horns are gone.”

What happened in the next moment likely shocked them both, though Hero’s might have been in more fright than surprise…Villain pulled his saviour close, nose tucked into her neck, tears flowing freely down his cheek and onto Hero’s back.

See, Hero was still afraid- and she always would be. But the fear was worth it to make Villain human, to make him see that he wasn’t a monster, for it isn’t the skin of the man which makes him a beast, but the absence of morality. It is only when moral judgement is vacant that Man can be considered Animal.

******

Part two here

[needydanger]

Red Wine | What Turns a Man On

18+ SMUT

pairing(s): levi ackermann x f!reader

content: 69′ing with captain levi

a/n: sorry for any grammar errors!  -scar <3

You held your fancy wine glass in an elegant manner; bringing it up to your lips. However, that classy facade fell short when you downed the entire glass as if it were water. The point of tonight was to mingle with Marleyan soldiers that were betraying their own country in favor of Eldian freedom. 

In your head, tonight was a competition to see who could get drunk the fastest. And you were in the lead by a major feat.

“Seriously, Y/n?”, Connie questions. You glare at him.

“What?”

His judgmental gaze turns into a dramatic pout, “Without me?!”

Soon; you, Connie, and Sasha were drunk. Your booming voices and annoying laughter caught the attention of everyone in the room. “Ah..who let the idiots have wine?”, Levi groans to Hange.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n this happy.”

You were lively. Mingling with everybody. You even got Jean and Eren into the mix. They became competitive with each other, and drank until Jean's face was on the table. “HA! Y/n, look! I won~”, Eren smiles at you.

You were the most fun anybody has had in ages.

It went too far, though, when you accidentally spilt red wine on Zeke’s white suit. “What the fuck?!”, he gasps. You look at the spreading stain on his pants with wide eyes. “I..I am so sorry!”

Zeke realizes it was you and softens. In a quick motion, you grab a napkin off a dinner table, dunk it in a glass of water, and attempt to wipe out the stain on his pants.

Zeke can’t help but just watch as you mindlessly rubbed away at his crotch. 

You knew a few things..

But social cues were not one of them. In sincere truth; you really were dense when it came to stuff like this.

But that didn’t matter when everyone is watching in shock.

You decide that the stain is never coming out and grab your wine glass, “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”, Zeke shrugs it off. You take note of the sly smile he had. You felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t that upset about it after all.

You’re suddenly grabbed by the hair, and everyone watched as you are unfashionably escorted out of the room.

You’re thrown against a wall—immediately scolded.

“Do you have a death wish?”

The voice makes you look up with bambi eyes. “Captain?”

You stumble back when he approaches you and end up on your ass like an idiot. He grabs your hair again, “It was okay for you to drink, but to make Zeke hard like that in front of your comrades?”

His grip tightens and you wince, “Are you truly that dumb?” 

You shake your head profusely, “H-Hard? No he wasn’t!”

“Why do you think he was smiling like a kid in a candy shop?”

You yell, “How the hell am I supposed to know that would turn someone on?!”

Levi lets go of you and debates his next steps. He gets down to your level and uses his gloved hands to spread your legs wide open. Your dress barely covered over your underwear, and it made you blush intensely.

“W-What are you doing?!”

He takes the wine glass in your hand and splashes it in the same manner you did to Zeke. He takes his right glove off to reach for his handkerchief, and starts rubbing your inner thighs.

You immediately slap a hand on your mouth. His hand danced from your inner thighs to your pussy. Rubbing endlessly on your clit. 

“O-Okay! I get it now! You can stop, I’m sorry!! I won’t ever do that again.”, You grab ahold of his arm.

“Why, are you turned on?”, he asks condescendingly, pressing his middle finger slightly into you. The barrier of the napkin and your underwear saved you from any more embarrassment.

“Yes!”, you angrily blush. He scoffs and you almost regret telling him to stop. “If you need any more help knowing what turns a man on so you don’t embarrass yourself like that again, let me know. For now, just go home. You’re done for the night.”

Before Levi leaves your view completely, you wobble over to him. You grab a hold of his hand and ask, “I, uh..can you tell me what turns a man on?”

You’re now in Levi’s room.

On his bed, more specifically.

You’re sitting awkwardly on the edge and he’s in the chair across from you.

“Men can get hard from physical touch. Sexual or not. What you did was the perfect example.” You sink into your shoulders. Ugh. “However, there are some perverted men that can get hard at just the sight of something they find attractive.”

“So they get hard over everything, basically?”

Levi nods, “Depends who we’re talking about. Most of it is all in here.”, he taps on his head, “Thoughts are powerful. Get a man started on just one dirty thought, and their mind will run freely.”

You sigh into your palms, “Now I really feel like an idiot.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know”, he shrugs. 

Sexual Education wasn’t exactly a hot topic in Paradis. There was only 1 school where you grew up, and they taught you mostly about titans; how to kill them and how to survive. 

“What about you?”

“Hm?”, Levi looks up

“What turns you on?”

Silence. 

You feel a sweat bead ready to fall from your forehead. Did I mess up again?

“Why does that concern you?”

“Um, so I don’t make another mistake?” Goddamnit, Y/n. You can at least sound sure of yourself. 

“I already told you what turns me on.”

You blink. Eh? You think back to what he said merely minutes ago, and go through a process of elimination. Okay, well, Levi isn’t a pervert. Sure, he’s a man. But he won’t die without sex...

“Thoughts and touching?”

He nods. 

“Hm.”, you think. What else can he be into? Well, cleaning is one thing.. “Role play?”

His brow raises, “Elaborate.”

“Like..sexy maid outfits and making someone call you captain in bed.”

He tilts his head, “I never thought about that.”

You giggle nervously, “Haha, well. I guess I was wrong.”

There’s awkward silence in the room. Levi is looking at you stare at everything else in the room except for him. 

“What turns you on?”

You burn up, “Touch.”

“Anything specific?”

You look off to the side, “Hair pulling and..what you did earlier, I guess.”

When you turn to look at him, you’re met with his belt. “So, all those years that I’ve been pulling your hair..?”

You nod up to him, “It’s turned me on.”

He’s peering down on you with a clenched jaw. The way his eyes are literally boring into your soul makes you feel small. What exactly was going on in his head? How did it get to this point?

He breaks eye contact with you and just clenches his fists. Hm? You stare directly in front of you and see the bulge in his pants. Oh. 

“Captain.”

“Yes?”, he doesn’t look at you.

You take your hand and gently rub up and down his clothed cock. Levi snaps his neck to look down at you.

“Is this okay?”, you ask coyly. Those damned bambi eyes..

There was no more being clueless. You knew exactly what you were doing now. What you wanted, and what he wanted. 

Levi places his hands on the bed so he can kiss you. It’s slow and passionate.

His tongue got familiar with yours in ways that made you feel butterflies. So this is what it’s like to get excited by just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for breath. “Yes, it’s okay.”, he finally answers. You put your hand back on his cock. This time, unzipping his pants and rubbing him through his boxers. 

He lets you do whatever you want. 

You put your hand down his underwear and can’t believe how nice it feels. “You’re huge.”, you say honestly. His lips fall agape before he kisses you again. You loved to be dominated by him, but you still wanted to follow through with what you were going to do before. 

You roll over on top and push him back. He’s confused when you straddle him with your head facing his feet. It didn’t register in his head what you were about to do, until he felt your lips on the tip of his cock. 

He fists the sheets, getting filled to the brim with arousal. You kissed the tip, licked it, sucked on it, playfully tapped it against your tongue. You wanted to make him lose his mind. 

Levi is face to face with your open legs. You feel a tug on your underwear and cry out when his tongue on you. In you.

You pop off his dick with a moan. Was he seriously going to eat you out at the same time? “Don’t stop sucking until I cum.”, he orders you.

“Yes, Levi.”

He lands a solid smack on your right ass cheek. The sound that leaves your mouth is actually embarrassing. It’s a mix between a scream and a moan.

“Is that how you address your superior?”

You bite your lip, “S-Sorry, Captain.”

He smiles and kisses your clit, “That’s a good girl.”

The compliment is enough to have you deep throating his cock.

The position is a never ending cycle of stimulation. With his tongue working wonders on you, you can’t stop moaning on his dick. He returns that vibrating feeling back on your most sensitive areas—moaning into your pussy.

It’s enough to make you cum on his face.

You stop sucking on his cock so you can enjoy this euphoria. “Agh!! Fuck.”

He lets you ride on his tongue like a desperate whore. The aftershocks of your orgasm are toe-curling.

You collapse to the side and shakingly crawl back down to his legs. He watched as you put your mouth back on him, looking up into his eyes.

“Fuck, y/n.”, he grips onto your hair just how you said you like it, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Again with the compliments. You’re now determined to make him cum like it’s your life purpose.

“Take it out of your mouth, I’m going to cum.”, he says softly.

Instead, you suck as hard and fast as you can. He moans in surprise, “S-Stop!”

You use your hands for the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He pulls your head back so you’re looking up at him, “If you don’t stop, I’ll cum in your mouth!”

You give him the dirtiest look he’s ever seen. Your cheeks are red, you have tears brimming in your eyes from your orgasm before, and there’s saliva running down the corners of your mouth. Wow..

“Don’t worry. I’ll swallow it all, Captain.”

Soon, he’s spilling down your throat. “Jesus Christ, Y/n.”, he groans. You swallow every drop and don’t pull off until there’s nothing left. Once you both had a chance to collect yourselves, he kisses you.

Your eyes widened.

You can taste yourself on his tongue. And you’re sure he could taste himself too. It’s such a lewd feeling. Was it bad to like it this much?

You’re now both lying down against the pillows with the sheets over your body.

“Ah..I’m so tired.”, you sigh, giggling. 

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you up in time for tomorrow.”, he pushes your hair back out of your face. 

“Okay.”, you reply softly.

[qslovebot]

Heroes: Spencer Reid

Request: cooould i request a spencer reid x reader where the reader and Spencer are on a car ride? it could be that they are on a case and they have to drive (maybe the jet is broken? or something idk) and it's sunset, they spill feelings and so much fluff? 'With Heroes by David Bowie'

rb: @ellyhotchner

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of Spencer's gunshot wound, kissing, fluff.

Spencer Reid chuckled as he crutched toward the SUV parked in the lot. He was a little too fast on crutches for a man who had been shot in the leg. It was a little while since he'd been let back to work and he stupidly lied about being allowed to travel so now, the way for lesser trouble was to have him drive back with another agent and Hotch assigned the dreadful task to you. "Could I at least drive?"

You shook your head as you caught up, "Flex your foot, Reid." He paused, putting his foot out and flexing it. With an immediate intake of breath and wince of pain, you shook your head again. "I will drive."

"Fine," he sighed, tossing you the keys. He paused again sheepishly at his door. "W-would you mind helping me into the car?"

"Yeah, of course, I'm sorry-" you pressed the unlock button and walked to the other side of the car with haste, taking Spencer's crutches and standing still so he could use your arm to stabilize him as he climbed in.

His thin fingers lingered on your upper arm for a second and he blinked a few times before looking up at you through his hair. "Can I choose the music?" He asked it as if it was the most serious question in the world. But he knew what was coming,

"Hell no!" You bat his hands away and darted to the other side whilst Spencer tried to beat you to the radio. He was already in the car, so of course, he beat you to it, but you jumped into the driver's seat and bat his hands away again. "Damn it, Spencer. I won't sit through another four-hour drive of nothing but Simon and Garfunkel!"

"I don't want Simon and Garfunkel!" He protested, his eyes wide. You couldn't stare him down without your heart racing, so you waved your hand in dismissal, starting the car as he fidgeted with the sound system.

Pulling out of the dank, dark of the precinct parking lot, both of you had to shield your eyes from the sun. Staying inside an interrogation room all day, you two were hardly aware it was even day. You checked the car's clock- it was nearing six o'clock.

Late spring, the days were getting longer. Shielding your eyes with the visor, you pulled onto the road. Spencer clicked a button and music began to play. You looked at him, mock-anger in your eyes and hit him in the shoulder, "This is Simon and Garfunkel!"

"Be nice, I was shot!" His voice climbed in pitch. Your hand shot forward and Spencer was faster, so he caught your hand before you could even touch the radio. His hand was cold as ice and his palms were soft. Spencer wouldn't hurt you, so the most he could do would be to stop you from acting. Your heart skipped a beat and the car swerved the slightest bit. His voice was higher now, "Eyes on the road!"

He was lucky he was so gorgeous, it saved him from a lot, but you'd never tell him that. He'd probably use it to his advantage and you had never been good with romantic feelings, so it was best you treated him with... friendly hatred. There was a thin line between working well together and working too well together so you used your friendly hatred to try and hide from the team... maybe a little... well, they're all profilers- it was for peace of mind.

So you let him have his Simon and Garfunkel, but only until you made it to the highway and you moved fast enough to get to the radio.

"-Playing you the top 80s hits all day, every day," the radioman said before the song kicked in. You laughed at Spencer who looked like he just entered hell.

"We grew up in the 80s, don't tell me you don't like 80s music!" You gasped, turning your head back to the road. "Spencer..."

"Actually, studies say the music you listened to in high school is the music you're supposed to like for the rest of your life, meaning for us two, the mid to late nineties."

You nodded, then glanced over again, "But didn't you graduate high school at twelve, boy genius? That would be... 1993?" You recounted his years at school and then your own shortened experiences.

Spencer shook his head, "It's-it's the time period of a typical person's high school years. From when we were... uh- fourteen to about seventeen for us, even with accelerated minds. I listened to Simon and Garfunkel and you were... stuck in the 80s?"

"Probably," you laughed, turning up the music as you continued down the freeway. The sun continued to shine, going from soft natural light and eventually sliding into a deeper shade of orange.

It had already been an hour and a half on the road and you had your hand out the SUV window while the sweet wind blew the left edge of your hair in boundless spirals. Spencer had just finished a long, educational rant about the production of record disks, which you already knew about, but listened anyway. You loved how excited he got to tell you things, his hands flailing about, gesturing to demonstrate ideas and thoughts.

Looking over, he seemed to enjoy feeling the air on his skin and wind in his hair. So you decided to drive onto one of the side roads, surrounded by dusty hills and rising dunes for twenty minutes more, letting him relax without worrying about his head being taken off by a semi. He deserved it, after all, he risked things to come out here.

It was finally your turn to put on the radio and you caught the radioman doing his little talking blurb, this time discussing the topic of summer cottages before the song kicked in.

Heroes by David Bowie. You gasped, "Oh my god, I haven't heard this in ages!" Spencer looked over and smiled a little, ruffling his hair. You didn't notice that smile of his, you were busy going absolutely ballistic over this song that meant so much to you. The song always made you feel oddly limitless and free. You didn't regard his constant admiration for you in the moments when you weren't looking.

You had turned up the music and let your hand out the window do the dancing you couldn't in the car. This song was powerful, beautiful, and your focus was balanced between music and road, not on Spencer, who seemed to be sinking into the beauty of the song as well as the beauty of you.

He always admired your liveliness. You brought out the less analytical, fun, youthful side to him and he really did need that sometimes. Watching you drive, hair blowing, he remembered the lyrics to the song. They may have been locked up in his mind somewhere, but he knew them and watching you enjoy the music so freely, he tapped the window's edge and mumbled along.

You didn't really care about much in those moments, because when you looked over and saw Spencer knew the lyrics, something about that made your heart flutter. The music, the lighting, him. You.

The view out the window was magnificent. Red sand, a dipping ravine and you were overtop of it all. Everything about these moments continued to get better, so you decided to pull over. Just for a minute.

"What are you-" Spencer started, but looking out the window he saw just what you did. You put the car into park, but kept it on, turning up the radio and hopping out. Spencer was able to get out of the car himself and crutched over to where you stood against the SUV door.

♬ We could be heroes, just for one day ♬

Oh, it was so gorgeous you could stay here forever and not need anything else, ever. That was until you turned to Spencer, admiring how he looked on this abandoned roadway, standing in the golden light, shadows cast perfectly over his face. You smiled up at him, time seemingly slowing for all of this to happen. It was an odd notion that the world continued to move when it was just you, him, and David Bowie blasting loudly on the radio.

He was thinking the same thing as he watched the way you shut your eyes for a moment, taking it all in. You didn't want to shut your eyes in fear maybe all of this would disappear. The dream-like lighting and Spencer, looking as if he was sculpted by the most talented artists, just seemed too perfect to really exist there with you.

But you needed to pull it together just for a moment, just to make it seem like you were still there with him, because if you stared too long, maybe you would accidentally fall into said dream.

"Not many views like these in Quantico," you turned to face him and he looked down at you before turning to face you as well. His hands were on his crutches but they looked like they begged to be in his pockets so he could rock on his heels. "It's so beautiful."

"You'r-" he coughed and cleared his throat, brows furrowing as his head turned back to off the ravine. Was he about to- no, you were kidding yourself? There was no way, it was the Bowie. "It is beautiful. E-especially with the lighting."

You nodded, "Mhm. I didn't know you knew any Bowie."

"It was actually Bowie's 12th studio album, released on October 14th, 1977, the only album in the Berlin Trilogy that was actually recorded in Berlin. I... read and listened." He scrunched his nose, probably afraid you wouldn't like him ranting, but you always listened.

You cringed, "I may have already known that."

"Oh, sorr-" he cut himself off when you smiled at him. There was something about this song that made him want to tell you everything he'd ever thought about you from the moment you'd met. Something about the lighting that made you so much more enticing and entirely beautiful. Of course, he already thought you were the most gorgeous person in the world, but right now, you were glowing.

And you were thinking the exact same thing. He was standing less than two feet from you, looking down at you. Tall, beautiful, glowing. He was silent, as were you, but Bowie sang loudly to cover the sound of both of your beating hearts. Your smile faded, but it showed in your eyes.

Spencer looked at his feet while the song took over and he tucked your hair behind your ear without hesitating. You bit the inside of your cheek as he reverted back to where he stood, his straight-lipped smile kind and genuine. His eyelashes fluttered from your eyes to your lips and he was standing there. The feelings were unspoken, but all the same, mutually understood.

So you went to kiss him. It was all you could do and it was all he was wanting, but there was a shooting pain that shot up his leg like fire as he took the step forward, pulled by your hand on his shirt.

"Shit! Ow- my... hm... my leg-" He hissed in pain and you immediately let go. So much for that buildup. You would have kicked yourself mentally if it didn't already look like Spencer had been kicked by ten muscular men on leg day.

You covered your mouth with one hand and gripped his elbow with the other, "Spencer, I am so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking- all of it completely slipped my mind and I am... God, I'm so sorry, can I help?" You launched into random rambling, your heart racing.

Spencer reached up to your shoulder for stability and his head bowed to rest on your other shoulder for a half-second. You let him stabilize himself because he was in pain, but that wasn't his intent. Not a tick more later, his hand moved an inch up higher on your shoulder, then moved to the place between neck and shoulder. His hand continued travelling upward until it was on your cheek.

Taking you much by surprise, as you thought you caused him more pain than he was really in, he pressed his lips to yours as the last chorus hit. He finished what you had failed to properly start and there was no longer any more shame in that mess. His right crutch clattered to the ground and he didn't seem to care at all. His hands held your face firmly as your hand went right back to clutching his shirt, keeping him close as you kissed him back with the same passion.

Golden light, David Bowie, a gorgeous view, an abandoned road, and each other. You may have pinched yourself to check if maybe this was a dream, but it wasn't. Spencer wouldn't stop laughing when the kiss ended- that breathy, happy laugh you always admired. You weren't sure why until he held out his wrist to show you that he had pinched himself as well and you both burst out laughing a little harder than you should have. If this was how the world ended, you would end it in the best possible way, entirely content. But this was far from the end of anything, in fact, it was only the beginning of a whole lot of BAU teasing once they got a hold of the happenings of this road trip.

You gave Spencer a knowing look, scrunching your nose and he was thinking the same thing again.

"Maybe we'll lie to them for a bit?" You suggested, cringing again with a slight smile.

He nodded comprehensively, fighting a returning smile. "Keep this as far from Derek Morgan's hands as possible." He tucked your hair behind your ear again and finally grinned at you before picking up his crutch and letting you help him back into the SUV.

He got to the radio before you did and you gasped in near disbelief. "Spencer, no Simon and Garfunkel!"

Request Here

Tags: @mercy-burning, @laurakirsten0502, @softhairedhotch

[meep-morp-s]

Febuwhump 18- forced to watch, Qui-Gon

When the ray shields cut him off and there was nothing to do but wait, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and knelt. He used his time between the first breadth of the fight and the next to meditate and get a glimpse into what would come next.

He tried to keep a straight face as an unexpected wave of knowing came over him. His mind felt pulled in a different direction than his body, tearing apart his entire self. It was sudden, straightforward knowledge that in the next few moments he would face his end.

Qui-Gon allowed his emotion to flow freely for one second, two. Then he did his best to accept his end so he could spend the next few moments preparing. It would have taken less time but Obi-Wan’s anxious pacing just behind him made it difficult. He would have to leave his padawan behind, and while he did so the young man would be forced to watch.

And he would not see it coming.

The ray shields hissed away and Qui-Gon forced himself back into the present moment. This Sith was young and full of energy, more energy than Qui-Gon had left. His stamina was waning and the Dathomirian knew it.

Still, they matched each other blow for blow. Qui-Gon stretched out the swordplay as long as he could, getting a better angle to see his padawan as he did so. Obi-Wan was behind the nearest shield, so close but still lightyears away. Safely away.

It was coming. Closer and closer until–

The Sith used its hilt to knock his head back. He turned and jabbed. Piercing white-hot heat bloomed from Qui-Gon’s chest.

His lungs convulsed; breathing became impossible. Time slowed to a crawl as the Jedi master locked eyes with his padawan.

Obi-Wan cried out, but he couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. His slowing heartbeats sounded like drumbeats of a very slow death march.

He could see Obi-Wan’s heart breaking. Right there, where the light in his eyes was dimming. It made sense; his guiding light was being extinguished.

He wanted to say so much to him, more than anything I’m so sorry that you had to see this, but in a blink, he was collapsed on the floor. Time was playing out in a strange, disjointed way. The instant his life began to end lasted eons as he stared at Obi-Wan, but while his padawan finished the Sith off for good (Qui-Gon knew he could do it. He was so proud.) it jumped forward quickly. In another blink the cold floor was replaced by Obi-Wan’s warm embrace.

“Master! Master!”

“It is too late, It's…” the time was approaching fast. He knew what to do, he’d studied and prepared for this. Maybe that was why he had been granted some foresight: so he could prepare to live on in the Cosmic Force.

“No!” cried Obi-Wan. He did not understand, would not for a long time. And that was a good thing, because it was up to him now to train Anakin Skywalker.

“Obi-Wan promise… promise me you'll train the boy…”

Obi-Wan nodded to please his master, but he was barely listening. He cradled Qui-Gon’s face. Tears fell onto Qui-Gon’s robes. “Yes, Master.”

“He is the chosen one…” Qui-Gon brushed Obi-Wan’s cheek. He still looked like the baby-faced youngling Qui-Gon had met years and years ago. But under that he was strong, smart, and capable. Always wanting Qui-Gon’s approval but never needing it to be the remarkable Jedi he was. “He will...bring balance...train him.”

This felt right. Well, physically nothing felt right. Something was terribly wrong with his body and it was failing. The pain of it was not only in his body but in his being. The process of death was not an easy painless thing. But he would endure it, just as Obi-Wan would endure his grief.

Even if everything felt excruciatingly out of balance now, it would someday sort itself out. Light would return to the galaxy, Qui-Gon thought to himself as darkness overtook his view of Obi-Wan's face.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 2

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3.5 k

Author’s Note: This is turning out pretty good, I think. It’s turning into a kind of slow-burn ish thing, and as much as I can’t stand slow-burn sometimes, I’m liking it so far. If I’m being honest I feel like (hopefully) this is the thing that can help me get over my smut writing block. I haven’t been able to get myself to write smut for a while, and I’m hoping this can help me fix it.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Also, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I usually put in that little line spacer when there’s a pov change. You know, this one:

____

So yeah. And the three asterisks (except the ones at the beginning):

* * * Usually means a timeskip. If it’s unlabelled it’s only a short skip, anything over 24 hours I’ll label.

Enjoy~

*

*

*

Shouta woke you up, his rough hands rubbing your back and deep voice softly calling your name. When you let your eyes flutter open you realize you’re still on top of him, only your head is further cradled into his neck and your leg had found its way around his waist. The position had your face warming as you lifted your head and met his dark eyes.

“Good morning, little one.” He sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up himself. You pulled away and he released you so you could sit up. Off of him. You couldn’t quite hold his gaze, so you looked down at the bedsheets.

“Good morning, Shouta.” He sits up beside you, a hand grasping your chin and making you look at him.

“Am I too forward? Or are you afraid of me, little one?” You raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to really consider your own comfort.

“Can I speak freely?” He nods, and you take a breath.

“You are being just a little forward, but I think it’s only really enhanced because you’re known for being cold and unwelcoming. And also the fact that we only formally met last night.” His hand drops, and he waits for the second half of your answer. You take a moment to choose your wording, make sure you’re accurately communicating your feelings without offending him.

“While I do feel awkward and, frankly, small around you I don’t necessarily fear you. So far you’ve shown that you aren’t cruel, and though you are capable of some...violent things, I have no reason yet to believe you would be violent toward me.” A small smile tugs at his lips, a foreign thing to see.

“I assure you, I am not a violent lover. Nor will I ever be.” He reaches over and grabs your hand, lifting it to his face and leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. It’s a simple, sweet gesture that has your face and chest heating. Then he gets up and you follow him out to the living room where three large suitcases are waiting. Your suitcases, you realize, Mother and Father must have packed all your clothing and had them sent here. Shouta picks up two of them and you take the last one, returning to the bedroom.

“The closet has plenty of room, so go ahead and sort everything out. I’ll be in my office. Once you’re done just wait for me, we’ll be going out later.” You nod, and he’s disappearing into his office. For the first time, you take a good look at the room. Your room now, you remind yourself. 

It’s large, enough to fit three more king beds with plenty of spare room. The king-sized mattress sits in a black frame that was built to look like it was hovering inches off the ground, fitted with light gray sheets and a large black comforter. The entire room is illuminated by lights embedded in the ceiling, the floor a dark hardwood that matches the doors to the bathroom and walk-in closet. A table sat on either side of the bed, both painted black to match the bed frame.

The walk-in closet is big as well, though it’s much brighter than the main bedroom. The floor is smooth white tile, a white center island with a glass top looking into the top drawers that held numerous watches and ties. Most of Shouta’s clothing seems to be folded, the suits and more high-end clothing the only pieces hung up. You filled the empty spaces with your own clothing, keeping everything organized like you had back at home. With everything tucked away, you decided it was time to change out of the robe, tugging on undergarments you missed those, a pair of loose sweatpants and a racerback tank top. Then you brought the now empty suitcases back to the living room and dug through the kitchen for some breakfast.

____

Shouta emerged from his office to you humming to yourself as you worked over the stove of bacon and pancakes. He didn’t even know he had bacon, let alone the ingredients for pancakes. It was quite cute, seeing you bounce lightly along with the tune you’re humming, spatula in hand. It’s a domestic sight, completely foreign to him. He leaned on the doorframe, choosing to admire you a while longer.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come get some food?” He blinked, slightly shocked, you hadn’t even turned around to see if he was there. You must have heard the door open, though he made sure none of the doors in his home creaked. It’s an irritating noise. He made his way over to you, hooking his chin over your shoulder and placing his large hands on your waist.

He knows he’s moving a little fast with the intimacy. He’d asked you earlier, though you said you didn’t mind, you were absolutely right that it’s weird being so close so soon. In all honesty, as long as you’re alright with it he wants to continue being touchy like this. He’s never truly had any interest in naming a partner, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want company. He’s been lonely for a long time, longing for someone to hold, and while he’s absolutely sure any woman would love to court him willingly, he wants someone special.

He can’t stand the women that throw themselves at any man with power and money, most of them only in it for their own gain. If he were to announce before the ball that he was looking to name a wife, he’d probably have had a line of fawning women on their best behavior to butter him up, flirting and smiling those too-big smiles in an attempt to get a rock on their finger and power to wield at their leisure. That’s why he’d decided to watch from afar, and you struck him as different the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

The more time he spent in your company, the more he’s commending himself for picking you. You’re one of the probable few that held a semi-neutral opinion of him, not fearful nor starstruck. You’re intelligent, well-articulated, and while you have your limits you tend to go with the flow, let the wind carry you this way and that. And you’re honest with him, he has no doubt you’ll tell him if there’s a boundary he crosses.

____

You’re grateful he can’t quite tell the state you’re in right now. Shouta’s hands on your waist flustered you, more than you care to admit. Sure, he’s advancing rather quickly, but you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. You’d been forbidden from dating, made to save yourself for the strategic marriage your father had planned. For the longest time you’d wanted to be held, touched and loved by someone. And here Shouta is, fulfilling all your teenage daydreams. He has no reason to be so close behind closed doors, where no one can see you, so he must feel some sort of real attraction toward you right? Otherwise he’d be more closed off, only opting to speak on his own terms and not caring at all about you or your comfort.

You shake yourself from your thoughts and the two of you sit at the dining table, quietly eating your breakfast. It is a little awkward, but you expected as much. Shouta, like you, probably isn’t used to eating with another person. You both finish breakfast soon, and once the dishes are washed Shouta startles you with his next words.

“We’ll be leaving in an hour or two for a lunch meeting with a few other clans.” You have to take a pause and think about what he’d just said.

“We? You want me to join you?” A part of you wants him to confirm it, another hopes he doesn’t.

“Yes, I want you there with me.” Cue your confusion.

“It’s almost unheard of, having a woman in a clan meeting.” As much as you hate the patriarchy and its traditions, they are still traditions that, once challenged, could upset many people.

“Let’s say I’m breaking the status-quo. If I’m going to have a wife, she’ll be wielding my power alongside me, not just existing as a means to further the bloodline.” It becomes apparent to you that Shouta, despite his position, is very much not traditional. You turn to him and lean against the kitchen counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So why have you chosen me? I’m the daughter of a very low-ranked oyabun, have almost no experience compared to you and I am most definitely not someone other oyabun would approve to be your wife, let alone leading the entirety of the Yakuza.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, crossing his own arms.

“I don’t care what other oyabun may think of me or my choices, they don’t dictate what I do. As for why I’ve chosen you, it’s quite simple. I’ve known you for less than a day and it’s already obvious to me that you can take most things in stride, without allowing it to affect you emotionally. You’re good at compartmentalizing your own thoughts, can keep a level head under pressure, and that’s exactly what I need.” Your own eyebrows raise, not expecting a read like that.

“And last night as I watched you, it was clear to me that you’re skilled at masking your emotions, especially nervousness or fear. Think about what any other woman would have done, had I walked up to them and asked their name. Before I could get another word out they’d probably drop to their knees and begin begging for their lives. Most would probably faint on the spot, pounce on me, or any other number of unsavory responses after announcing a sudden engagement to me. But you? You did nothing, simply answering my question and taking my hand with no theatrics.” 

You nod slowly, mildly understanding his point. While it’s true you had almost no reaction, you’re almost sure there’d be at least a dozen other women in that hall that would have reacted the way you had. 

“Still, there must have been many others that acted like I did. For me to be so completely unique is…” You trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

“Unlikely? Yes. Impossible? No. I trust my own judgement, little one, and you should have a little more faith in yourself. Now, let’s go get ready. I’ve already got a dress for you to wear. It’s only semi-formal, we’ll be going to a restaurant for this meeting.” You give a small sigh as you follow him into the bedroom. 

All you can do now is go along with it, whether you trust his judgement or not. Suddenly being put in a position of so much power is stressing you out a little bit, but Shouta isn’t wrong about your compartmentalization. The stress could be dealt with later, right now you have a meeting to attend.

* * *

On second thought, maybe the stress should have been dealt with earlier. Standing outside the restaurant, wrapped around Shouta’s arm is making your heart pound in your chest. You’re unconsciously squeezing his bicep, and even as he looks down at you, there's nothing on your face to indicate your nerves. You’re completely deadpanned, eyes focused and mind working overtime. Shouta’s calloused hand falls over yours, a mildly comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry, little one. The most you’ll have to do is sit still and look pretty. I’m aware of your inexperience, I don’t expect you to be put on the spot. If you are and feel uncomfortable then all you need to do is tap my leg. You’ll be fine.” You nod. The pep-talk is appreciated, but it isn’t the meeting itself you’re worried about. What kind of backlash will Shouta be getting once you enter? What will be said about his reputation afterward? All you can do is wait and see.

You stride into the venue, and are led to a private room by a hostess. You can hear the casual conversation from the open door, but once you’re inside the immediate silence is unsettling. You don’t need to look directly at the half dozen men to know all their eyes are fixed on you as you both sit at the head of the table. Shouta quickly and smoothly brings the attention off of you.

“It’s good to see you, gentlemen. Let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” The tension in the room is still palpable, the clear discomfort from the men hadn’t vanished, but their main focus now is the subject of the meeting. You sit and listen carefully as they talk about several things, from natural disaster preparations to minor territory disputes. Some of the smaller syndicates under these oyabun had spread operations outside their borders, but that was quickly settled as most was due to small misunderstandings and unclear borders. Soon the meeting was nearly coming to a close, and suddenly Shouta left to use the restroom. 

And now, you’re a lioness in a clan of hyenas.

You keep quiet, listening to their conversation and following along with the political debates to further familiarize yourself with the inner workings of the higher circle. Suddenly the table goes quiet, and you lift your eyes from the table to meet the gaze of six men that value tradition. Unsure what to do, you drop your gaze again, but don’t drop your chin, choosing to look down your nose at the wood grain. Shouta had told you to hold yourself as he does, and you make sure to try, but you know when to keep to yourself.

“Tell me, girl, what are you doing here?” You blink, not expecting to be confronted so blatantly. You look up at the man who had asked the question. He looks to be in his late forties, jet black hair graying at the temples and striking brown eyes aged and tired. He’s not thin, a little heavier-set, but it’s clear there was a point that he was fit and muscular. He’s already irked you. You nod your head, a small bow, before calmly answering.

“My name is (y/n). I would appreciate it if you could please use it, Oyabun. I am here because Shouta wants me to be here.” The man narrows his eyes at you, a small scoff comes from one of the others but you don’t avert your eyes to him.

“Well why does he want you here, girl?” The blatant rejection of your request made your blood boil, but you kept a pleasant face.

“I don’t know. If you wish to know you may need to ask him yourself, Oyabun. And please, call me (y/n).” You’re certain he won’t use your name, and you addressing it again will probably anger him, but you can’t care too much when you know you’re within your right to ask that anyone use your name. Especially when you yourself are using a title for the man.

“I’ll address you how I see fit. Just because you’re the Black Dragon’s fiance does not mean I will acknowledge you as anyone of importance.” Ah, that’s right. You had forgotten Shouta’s nickname. Black Dragon is the name people used for him, whether they were afraid of the man or in awe of him. You take an imperceptible, steadying breath. Misogyny is one of the few things that challenge your composure.

“I do not ask you to acknowledge me as a person who holds power. In fact, I am aware of my previous rank and understand that it was maybe unwise to have me here. All I ask is that you please use my name.” The near growl that escapes the man does nothing to your self-control, doesn’t even strike any kind of emotion other than irritation. At this point, the other five men seem to be siding with you, their gazes fixed on the rather aggressive-reacting oyabun with something akin to confusion. 

“Do not talk back to me, girl! I should remind you of your place here.” The other men sit in shock as he rises from his seat and begins to circle the table. He must have had tunnel vision, because Shouta’s voice cuts through the room so abruptly he freezes, his eyes snapping over to the entrance where Shouta stands, glaring daggers at him.

“Touch her, and I will personally bury you six feet under.” The man is frozen in shock, almost in disbelief. He tries, albeit weakly, to get Shouta on his side.

“O-oyabun! I… This girl, she--” 

“I believe she asked you to use her name. Politely, might I add.” He’d been listening? How long had he stood there?

“In fact, you should address her as Onna-oyabun.” Your breath caught at that, the same as the rest of the room. That title was a myth, a rarity in its own right. There were so few instances where that title was applied to a woman under such specific circumstances that it’s a mere legend today. The most recent was an old woman who had inherited her deceased husband’s clan, which was extremely small, and even that was long ago. 

Shouta’s hand landed on your shoulder, his rough thumb drawing small circles into your skin. He was silent, waiting for the older man, or anyone in the room, to oppose him. You could feel his glare in the faces of the other clans’ oyabun, the intensity of it making even you uneasy. It felt like an eternity before Shouta spoke again, venom laced in every syllable.

“I’ve chosen to let you keep all of your teeth, in favor of keeping her from seeing what violence I’m capable of. Next time, I won’t be so gracious. It’s time to go, little one.” You bow your head quickly before taking Shouta’s extended hand and strolling out of the room.

In the car, it’s silent. You have every intention of apologizing for causing a scene, though you aren’t sure if you should speak here or at home. Shouta doesn’t leave you any options.

“What is it? There’s something bothering you.” How perceptive.

“I’m sorry, Shouta.” He turns his head, his expression questioning your intelligence.

“For what? For asking to be addressed in a way that isn’t demeaning? He had no reason to ask why you were there, let alone attempt to attack you like that. I always hated that man, you’ve just given me a reason to threaten him.” You did a double-take.

“You heard everything? How long were you standing at the door?” 

“Ah. I put a bug in the metal piece on the front of your dress. I knew they might be unsavory toward you, and with me out of the room they were more likely to speak their minds.” You nearly gawked at him. No wonder he’d chosen your dress for you. 

“You never went to use the restroom.” He shook his head.

“No, I didn’t. It is I who should be apologizing, little one. The entire ordeal was intentional, as much as I hoped it wouldn’t actually take such a turn. Though I will say I was serious about that title. I fully intend to marry you, and I intend to have you by my side for every meeting from here on out.” You suck in a sharp breath at that bit of information. Marriage seemed like such an abstract concept until now, having Shouta say it somehow made it all the more solid. And to join him for every meeting? 

“As long as there are no more surprise incidents then I think I can come with you.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he squeezed your hand.

“Deal. Though I may need to do that a few more times just to keep some men in line.” You let yourself giggle, he must hate a few of the others as well.

“In that case I’ll help you. I was afraid he’d actually get me for a second there.” 

“Really? You didn’t even react. What if I were a split second too late?” You smirked, a mischievous little tug at your lips.

“Well if you were too late he’d have at least one stab wound and be bleeding out on the floor.” He shoots you a bewildered look before you tug up the hem of your dress, exposing a large dagger strapped to your thigh. He can’t contain his laughter, throwing his head back and wiping away at a few stray tears once he can breathe again. You can’t help but laugh with him, and notice just how handsome he looks when he’s happy, or in this case amused.

“Wouldn’t that be an unpleasant surprise.” He chuckles a bit more, getting it all out of his system before looking over at you. 

“Regardless, I won’t be letting them get that close. I’m sure you’re capable of defending yourself, and as much as I’d love to see you stab an annoying misogynist, the risk to your safety still remains. Not to mention he disregarded my warning last night. You’re untouchable, little one, he knows this and still thought he could touch even a single hair on your head.” 

You let a small smile settle on your lips, lacing your fingers with Shouta’s as a comfortable silence falls between you.

******************************

Tags:

@inumorph

[ginanosakka]

I’m Sorry

Masterlist

I Hate It Here | Next

“How did you guys figure it out?” You sighed, dropping onto the bed and tossing your phone into the mess of sheets you couldn’t be bothered to make with the little sleep you ran on.

“I figured it out,” Katsuki said with a blatant possessive tone. “I know how you react to your old man, and you’ve made it clear that the bastard has no problem trying to kill you.” He explained, and you just nodded, deciding to disregard it in your exhausted state.

“Your dad gave me some off vibes back then, but I didn’t know just how bad it was. . I’m sorry all of this keeps happening to you.” Eijirou frowned, his anger seeming to simmer into pity for you.

Katsuki glared at him, “she doesn't need your apology when you didn’t do anything.”

‘They’d never really argue. . right?’ You thought, looking back and forth between the two silently.

“You’re right, but she deserves an apology from you. Katsuki! Maybe if you’d stop acting like that you two could get somewhere before someone else gives her the life she deserves!”

‘They would.’

“Okay, can we just-“ you were cut off by Katsuki.

“You don’t understand a damn thing, stupid hair! Don’t act like you know her,” Katsuki growled and took a threatening step towards Kirishima that he mimicked without an ounce of fear.

“I know that you aren’t capable of being a real man and admitting you’re wrong,” Kirishima bit back.

When a small explosion went off in Katsuki right hand you immediately put yourself between the two with you back to Kirishima, and your arms were held out in front of you to stop Katsuki. His piercing red eyes still didn’t meet yours, and you assumed he and Kirishima were having a stare down, but neither would make a move with you between them. Whether it was because they were still heroes even when angry or something much deeper, you didn’t know and this was no time to find out.

“Kirishima. . I need you to go for now. Thank you for sticking up for me,” you addressed the redhead.

You didn’t get a response for a moment, but after a while he muttered a quiet, “okay.” You watched as Eiji moved to leave the room with a final glance at you, and the moment he was out of the room you took a step away from Bakugou.

“I can’t keep doing this with you,” you sighed once again and ran a hand over your face.

“. . . He’s right.”

You almost got whiplash from how fast your head whipped up to meet his face. Katsuki Bakugou looked absolutely guilt ridden, and you were sure your eyes had become the size of saucers looking at that expression on his face. Especially after he was just ready to blow Kirishima’s face off for saying what he did.

“I broke your heart and made you think you weren’t worth shit, I gave you a kid and left you to struggle for six years, and when you took the time to tell me and let me meet my kid, I forgot that what I made you out to be was a liar and spoiled brat when you were nothing like that. I-“

You tried to cut him off, “I’m over it-“

He glared at you, “stop fucking lying. I can see it everytime you look at me. You think about the day I told you that I was done pretending to like spending time with you. . that you were just some spoiled princess and the only reason I hung around you was because your father offered me a damn deal! I lied!”

Your world had been shattered before, on multiple occasions that left you in a near out of body experience from the sheer shock, not to mention the pain. The words that came out of his mouth made a numbness wash over your entire body, and you could only stare at his tears eyed face that was flushed with so many emotions. Was this the face that broke you all those years ago? This was why he couldn’t look you in the eyes when he brought your world to a stop? None of it made sense to you, but there was so little you knew behind the scenes of your entire childhood that came to light in bits and pieces.

“What?” Was the only word you could process, your brain just needing more information to make even one word of what he was saying seem real.

“I wasn’t supposed to care about you, I was just supposed to put up with you until you found something else you were interested in, that’s what my deal was with that bastard. I thought it was going to be easy, like babysitting sims little brat and then I’d get ahead of that damn half-and-half bastard and Deku. . but you were so determined to be around me, and I couldn’t find a single thing that was actually wrong with you!” Katsuki seethed, his hands curling up into fists at his side. “You were always there for me no matter what I said to you, and you didn’t care at all whether or not I was going to be the number one hero or just some loser. . and I hated myself because I loved you!”

“You’re lying-“ Oh, how the tables turn.

“I kissed you first. I know you remember that, and I know you remember how real that was, Y/N. You felt everything I was feeling that night.”

That stupid night.

It was just a regular night by your standards, you doing the most impossible task of entertaining Katsuki when something was plaguing his mind. You didn’t mind talking for hours to him, it made you feel useful when he would come to you with all these complicated emotions that you never experienced before. He had a bigger part in life than you, and you were just happy to ease his mind when his life wasn’t guaranteed.

“My tutor said I’m probably better at tricking him than any actual subject, and I don’t really think that’s a bad thing when I can get him to waste an hour telling me about his daughter’s first steps than teaching me math-“

“You talk too much.” Before you could retort back to him or even look at him, he had his arms around your waist and pulled you to lay down with him on your bed.

“If you wanted to cuddle, all you had to do was say something,” you smirked with a laugh.

The initiation of contact was enough for you, giving you the go ahead to grab his hand that wasn’t behind your head and gently rub it. It took months for him to be okay with you touching his hands so freely, and despite the fact that he said it was because he didn’t like touching, you knew he was scared to hurt you. It was the same way you knew he was hurting, or sad, or happy.

“You’re a little shit,” he responded with his red eyes glaring softly into yours, but you could see the small ghost of a smile threatening to show on his face.

“But I’m your little shit. I bet you if I was anything less than a little shit, you’d be bored of me. That’s why you’re always-“

Soft and warm lips pressed against yours, and you were flipped onto your back with him hovering over you. The flips your stomach was doing, the way your heart was nearly beating out of your chest, and the fog that was beginning to coat your brain left you whirling. He had never kissed you before, settling for rare hugs and gentle touches when you were alone that would kill him to speak about to anyone else. Your body was on fire, and just when you thought his lips would leave yours for good, they once again pressed against yours with fever and need that you were so unaware of before.

When his lips finally did leave yours, his face hovering just inches above yours, you could see the blush covering his cheeks that was accompanied by a cocky smirk on his face. “I said you talk too much.” He taunted before connecting the both of you once again.

You wished for nothing else but to be frozen in that moment.

“There was nothing in that deal with him that made me sleep with you. That night made me feel so stupid, because how was I suppose to love you and pretend like you weren’t being lied to and used by everyone. I knew if I were to come clean and say some stupid apology you’d accept it, you’d forgive everyone around you that didn’t deserve you. I had to lie to myself for days after that and tell myself all those horrible things about you, make myself actually believe them and do what was right.. What I thought was right- Damn it!”

He got onto his knees and you weren’t sure if your jaw was going to hit the floor first or your eyes that were nearly bulging out of your sockets. This was happening. Everything was beginning to make sense, your heart was hurting and your head was spinning, and Katsuki fucking Bakugou was on his knees in front of you. You didn’t know you were crying until your vision became so blurry you couldn’t make out Katsuki’s figure, but you could see that his head was down in shame.

“I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry, Y/N, and you should hate me. . but I’m not going to stop trying and I’m not going to sit here and let you take that bastard down alone. . and I’m not going to let someone else take my

spot without a fight.”

Katsuki blinked away the tears in his eyes as silence fell in the room, unsure of how you were reacting and if he had done the right thing by throwing his pride away. He looked up despite his fear and doubt, needing to know what was going through your head. Your eyes were closed now, the tears falling down your face at a slow pace. Your bottom lip was trembling, and he could see the smallest signs that you were shaking where you stood.

“Y/N-“ He reached out his hand to you, but in a split second his head was snapped to the left, the stinging on his cheek truly cementing what you had just done. He turned his head slowly back to you, expecting to see rage, but a goofy smile he hadn’t seen in years was on your tear stained face.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

(A/N: My favorite chapter by far. Really, this one eats.)

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

[danny-chase]

Delirium - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Titans (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Lian Harper, Lian Harper & Dick Grayson, Lian Harper & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Tim Drake & Roy Harper Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Hopsitals, delirious, Anxiety, Panic, POV Tim Drake, Canon Divergence, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Tim Drake is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Batman, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Lian never died, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson gets a forehead kiss, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Caring Batfamily (DCU), fluff at the end, Teen Titans as Family, Tim Drake emotional whump, Damian Wayne emotional whump, Lian Harper is a ray of stubborn sunshine on a cloudy day, gunshot wound, Head Wound, Coloring Books Series: Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Tim has to be the oldest for like five minutes and decides he doesn't like it (but does a good job anyways).

Full story under cut

“Alvin? Alvin… Draper?” A nurse called from across the room. Tim pulled his head out of his hands, careful not to jostle his fake moustache. “This way please.” She intoned, waving a hand towards a bustling hallway.

Damian nearly leapt out of the stiff plastic chair, and he slowly followed suit, trying to act causal. He doubted he was fooling anyone; his legs shook as he walked forward, and he was pretty sure he left a ring of butt sweat on his seat. Taking deep breaths to calm his fraying nerves, he concentrated on taking steady steps forward – he didn’t care much for Damian, but there was no way he’d let a child go through this sort of thing alone. Especially one who probably had never visited someone in the hospital (let alone been in one) before.

 He’d gotten a panicked call from Barbara a few days ago. Gotham in ruins, streets in chaos… the usual. Bruce was gone. He couldn’t miraculously pull them out of these things anymore. The first Batman was dead, and this time… they could lose the second.

 “Report.” Damian demanded, his harsh tone penetrating Tim’s thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the chaos of the hallway, of people jostling them as they rushed by, a cacophony of machines squealing and loud voices, and bright lights illuminating tacky flooring. He’d fallen a pace behind and quickened his step to stand firmly next to his… little brother.

 As much he’d tried to deny it, at the end of the day, that’s what bound them. Fealty to a dead man, he’d once hoped they could be something more – but this family was ripping apart at the seams and Tim had to wonder what even kept them all here anymore.

 Though – that wasn’t hard to figure out.

 Dick was in trouble, and he came running. He’d been in trouble and Dick had come running. They were brothers in every sense of the word, without Bruce tying them together. His stomach clenched at the thought that it might all be lost to him forever, and he swallowed the bile burning at the top of his throat.

 Dick had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world – when you talked to him, he listened, gave advice, and would drop anything to help. He quickly crawled his way into your life, cementing you as family. Things were never perfect, and they’d had their fights, but Dick always bent first, forgiveness freely given rather than earned. Tim had needed that. And from what little time they’d spent together, he knew Damian did too.

 Panic. That was the only way to describe how he felt. He couldn’t be that for Damian – he couldn’t be Dick. He let out a shaky breath – Dick had to be fine – he couldn’t – not after Bruce – he couldn’t do this again – he was on the verge of shattering after finally picking up all the broken pieces of himself and –

 “I said, report.” Damian squeaked. He jolted back into reality, steading his breath, and replaying the last few minutes, his mind trying to catch up.

 The nurse seemed unamused, her nostrils flaring and brow tight as she glanced back. “Sorry, my brother’s a little uhh… stressed…?” He stammered, not wanting to offend Damian – or worse, start an argument in a crowded hallway. But he didn’t flinch at the comment, a testament to the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in.

 Dick was shot in the back of the head, and Tim honestly had no idea if they’d gotten him medical attention in time. He could be comatose for the rest of his life, would never breathe on his own, never talk to them again, never walk, never think, never… god… he’d never talk to Dick again, and it was all his fault for being too late, too unprepared, too much of a failure to-

 “The operation went well, we need to keep him for observation, but we’re hopeful he’ll make a full recovery in a month or two.” Tim blinked back tears as a weight lift off his shoulders, bringing a hand up, covering his eyes for just a second. He looked up to find Damian frozen; too stunned to move. He gently placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging him along so he wouldn’t be swept up in the tide. Surprisingly, that much was allowed today, the child’s thoughts were elsewhere, so Tim focused his thoughts on him.

 Damian was only ten. And he’d almost lost Dick to a fate worse than death, after seeing him shot before his eyes, helpless to stop it. They didn’t have hospitals in the League, it was kill or be killed, and then there were the pits. Had he ever watched someone recover naturally?

 “He’ll be okay.” Tim hissed, in a tone that only Damian could hear. Damian startled back into the present, glaring at him briefly, shaking off Tim’s hand, and storming after the nurse. He kept his expression carefully out of view.

 They turned into a private hospital room, pulling the door shut behind her, and winked. “Timothy Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne, I presume.”

 He could feel the kid freeze beside him, his own heart threatening to escape his throat.

 “Oh, sorry - don’t panic, I’m with STAR Labs, we’ve worked with Richard and his team for years.” Damian huffed in annoyance. “Your identities aren’t compromised; Oracle made the arrangements for our team to take over when he arrived.” She passed her clipboard to Tim. “The walls are soundproof, you can stay as long as you want, I trust you can get out on your own, and it’s not like I’m going to stop you if you decide to stay longer than I recommend.” She sighed. “Just, don’t distress the patient, he’ll be confused when he wakes up, it’s normal. Call if you need, our monitoring systems are top notch, we’ll be watching – but not listening of course.”

 And with that, the nurse turned on her heel, exiting as fast as she’d arrived, leaving Tim opened mouthed next to a wide-eyed Damian.

 He watched as the door slowly turned on its hinges, picking up speed until it slammed shut. Almost immediately it popped back open. “If he tries to get up, don’t let him escape.” She rolled her eyes. “You human patients are always the worst.” And with that, she was gone. A few awkward, silent moments passed.

 “Are you coming, Drake?” Damian’s voice had lost its normal edge, as he determinedly stared at the windows. He couldn’t see Dick from where they stood, but he could make out the edge of the bed, a pure white sheet neatly tucked under the edge.

 He shifted, hesitantly - he always hated this part. But regardless, he took the lead, striding forward, and allowing Damian the comfort of walking in someone’s shadow. Because even if he wouldn’t say it, there was no way the kid wanted to do this alone. He couldn’t replace Dick – was thankful he didn’t have to, but this – this was the least he could do.

 Hospital beds have this way of making the people inside them seem smaller. Tim braced himself as he stepped into view, and well, it could be worse. Dick was out cold, drooling on his pillow still hooked up to a few monitors, which steadily droned and beeped in the background. A lump of gauze and bandages swathed the base of his skull.

 Damian flitted past his side to sit in the chair next to the bed, and Tim sprang into action, taking the chair next to the window. He flipped through the charts without really reading anything, and the two sat in stony silence. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts before shoving it back in his pocket.

 He spared a glance at Damian - he was curled up in the chair, grimacing and staring at the wall. He didn’t dare try saying anything more, lest they start fighting in Dick’s hospital room. He contented himself with staring out the window, watching the dawn break, violets and purples dancing across the sky. The sun rose with pinks and oranges blossoming soon after.

 Things would be okay. They had to be okay. He slowed his breathing, focusing on the sky rather than the scent of disinfectant. The steady beep of machines slowly fading into the distance. Closing his eyes, he could pretend for a moment, that this was normal. He was in a hotel, maybe on a vacation, in some city that wasn’t destroyed every few months. There had to be a place like that still out there.

 A little chickadee hopped around on the windowsill, fluttering back and forth, before flying off again. “Bye.” Tim snapped to attention, whirling around to find Dick squinting out the window. Damian sprung out of his chair. “Bruce?” He asked confusedly, frowning at Damian.

 Panic flickered across the kid’s face, and he recoiled, stepping back. “No. I’m Damian, don’t be foolish.” His voice wobbled at the end, and Tim’s heart throbbed painfully at the way Damian stiffened, meticulously shutting off any signs of vulnerability.

 “Remember what the nurse said, he’s going to be confused for a bit.” Tim reminded, striding over to sit at the edge of the bed. Dick went back to looking at the now closed window. “Dick, you with us?” He leaned into Dick’s line of sight, trying for a smile, and waited for a minute before leaning back. “I’m going to take that as a no.”

 “-tt-” Damian stepped forwards again. “Don’t bother him, Drake.” He spat.

 Tim didn’t really know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. Damian climbed back into his chair, tucking his legs up to sit crisscrossed, his back stiff and upright. Tim grabbed his chair, pulling it closer to the edge of the bed. He placed a hand over Dick’s, rubbing a finger over his knuckles, taking comfort in the fingers twitching slightly under his own.

 Dick was alive. He would live. Would recover. He hadn’t lost his older brother.

 “His name’s Tim.” Dick mumbled after a few minutes. Damian rolled his eyes. “Tim.” Dick repeated, his eyes glassy as they gazed through Damian’s forehead.

 “Yeah?” Tim lightly tapped Dick’s hand. He didn’t move from his focus.

 “Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim.” He continued repeating Tim’s name, staring up at the ceiling.

 “Why is he doing that?” Damian demanded, jumping out of his chair. Dick obliviously repeated the word, seemingly unaffected. “Drake, she said the operation went <em>well</em>.”

 “I dunno.” He sighed, Dick probably had no idea what was going on, nor would he remember this. “Look, he’s delirious, he’s going to be messed up for a bit. He got shot in the head.”

 “I know that. I was there. But if the operation was successful, then why-”

 The door opened, and they fell silent, footsteps approaching. Roy Harper poked around the corner; a phone pressed to his ear. “Okay, he doesn’t look too bad, all things considered. Hey, you, kid, you should actually answer your fu-fudging phone.”

 “That’s a dollar for the swear jar.” A little girl, Lian, he presumed, materialized at his side. She carried a bag with her and zoomed over to Damian. “Daddy says you like to color, so I brought crayons.” She grabbed a pack from her bag and shoved them at him. Damian looked mildly disgusted but took them anyway. “Say thank you.” Lian demanded.  

 Damian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Tim glanced at Roy, he winked, doing his best not to laugh as he finished talking with whoever was on the phone.

 “Thank you.” Dick replied, patting Lian’s head. His eyes seemed to find hers before darting away to stare at the ceiling.

 “Not you.” She groaned. “Him.” She pointed at Damian.

 “Thank you.” He repeated. Lian cracked a smile, giggling.

 “Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny – he’s delirious.” Damian replied harshly, eyes narrowing. Lian shrugged, turning, almost sizing him up. She was only maybe an inch shorter than him, if he had to venture a guess.

 “Uncle Dick is always happier when you laugh.” She pointed out. “It’s contagious.” Sure enough, a wide looping grin had materialized on Dick’s face.

 “But we’re in a hospital.” Damian looked outraged; his hands balled in little fists.

 “Daddy says laughter is the best medicine.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Roy tossed his phone (it landed perfectly in the center of the little dresser next to the bed), and scooped up his daughter in a big hug, sweeping her off the ground.

 “Look, kid.” He looked down at Damian. “I know this is scary and it sucks, but my kid’s got a point.” He kissed the top of her head, prompting more giggles. “She’s a smart cookie, and this isn’t exactly her first rodeo.” Damian’s ears flushed, his face unchanged, but his ears beet red.

 “This is not my first rodeo, and if you were more competent, than-”

 “If Dick was a dumb-, I mean, if he was more competent, we wouldn’t be here.” Roy pointed out, speaking over Damian. Lian smacked his face lightly.

 “Daddy, that’s rude.” Roy rolled his eyes. Dick started speaking in a language Tim vaguely recognized, looking displeased at the argument.

 “Sweetie, I’m trying to make a point.” He set her down, ruffling her hair. “Why don’t you get out the coloring book and let Damian pick out a page.” Damian opened his mouth to comment, but Roy cut him off. “Look, you should see how happy Dick is when Lian gives him coloring pages. I think he’s earned one from you.” Damian closed his mouth. His brain seemingly compiling the information. “What she said isn’t wrong, he’ll recover faster if he’s happier, Timbo, you’re a bat-nerd, back me up here.”

 “Well according to a study done in-” Roy held up a hand.

 “Point made, don’t put me to sleep.” Tim rolled his eyes, remembering why he used to avoid hanging out with (some of) Dick’s friends. For now, he joined Roy in staring down Damian, Lian gazing at him too, an unlikely team up in a battle of wills.

 “Only if Drake makes one too.” Damian miraculously relented after a few minutes. Tim nodded, peace from Damian was worth doing some coloring. Dick would be incredibly happy – these pages would likely be framed; it would be worth it to see the smile on his face. It was worth it now to see Lian’s face light up, as she rushed to unpack her things.

 “Oh, and I brought Uncle Dick a stuffy.” She pulled out a stuffed elephant and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Say thank you.” Dick replied – still not speaking anything he could place, and Lian smiled, Dick smiled back.

 “What’s he been saying?” Tim asked, looking to Roy, as Damian slid to the floor, selecting coloring pages with Lian. Roy sat on the side of the bed, carefully leaning Dick forward, to get a better look at the back of his head. He whistled, ignoring Tim for a moment.

 “You really did it to yourself this time, jeez Dickie.” He muttered to himself before turning back. “He’s speaking Navajo, he was counting to ten earlier, and he told Lian thanks.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you believe his pronunciation is always better when he’s like this?”

 “No, that seems on brand.” Tim mused. “Apparently my French gets exponentially better the less I’ve slept.” Roy shrugged, and turned back on Dick.

 “Quit rubbing off on the kids, you don’t want them to turn into you, yah? Bunch a’ weirdo bat-nerds.” Dick was apparently, not listening, and was more into petting the plushy.

 “Zitka.” He replied, showing it to Roy. Roy patted his shoulder.

 “Yeah buddy, I know. Isn’t she cute?” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Dick’s forehead. Something seemed to click in Tim’s brain, as Dick garbled on, fascinated by the toy.

 “How many times have you done this?” He asked, watching as Roy leaned back, taking the seat next to the bed. He shrugged.

 “I stopped counting after Blood fried his brains, back when he ran around in a V-neck.” Tim cringed, that was before he even became Robin. “Don’t look like that, he didn’t die.” Not that time, or this time – but things had been too close for comfort more times than Tim wanted to think about. Roy’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “I don’t know, Garth tried out the elephant thing a while back. It keeps him happy.” He pulled a book out of Lian’s bag, starting to flip through the pages. “Take nap kid – you look deader than him. Lian and I got this covered.”

 Tim leaned back in his chair, tucking his legs up with him. He watched as Dick happily turned the toy over and over in his hands, blearily blinking at the world. Damian was quiet where he sat on the floor, inspecting each of the colors. By the time he put his first stroke to paper, Tim was already fast asleep.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 25)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 6423 Warnings: mention of injuries, fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 24 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Time stands still like the eerie calm of the earth before a storm and in less than the blink of an eye things move all at once. The clouds break open with the downpour of your tears, a tornado sends you in a dizzying frenzy to change your clothes, hellish winds are unleashed that blow you across town so quickly you nearly forgot to take your phone with you as you scrambled out of the Uber that raced you to the hospital.

Sam’s call was brief. Bucky was brought into the emergency room by ambulance, fading in and out of consciousness from a car accident. Sam nearly went into shock himself seeing his friend littered in cuts and scrapes. You didn’t have time to ask much else, barely even changing out of your pajamas. You swapped thin bottoms for leggings, quickly grabbed your bra and threw a hoodie over it all, not thinking about how your hair looked or bothering to pick out the crust that just began to take root in the corner of your eyes. You grabbed a bag tossing in your keys and wallet and clutched your phone in hand to run downstairs.

The fluorescent lights are blinding as you enter the hospital, searching for Sam through the chaos of chatter and noise. The beep beep beep of machinery all around you, coughing, crying, moaning wails from people that want help or attention or just a place to sleep off their drunkenness. The ER was a maze you knew every route of but your mind pushed the knowledge out needing more space to panic.

Where is Bucky? Where is Sam?

You remembered the nurses’ station, sprinting towards it and happy to see a familiar face that does not recognize you right away. You didn’t expect Stacie to; you looked quite different when you were not put together in professional clothes and on the verge of bursting into tears and throwing up at the same time.

Together you quickly found Sam, unable to hold back the dam when you saw him and asked about Bucky.

“He went up into surgery.”

“Surgery!?” you cried out. “Is he going to be okay? Sam what happened?”

He let out a long and heavy sigh. The harsh lights above were unkind, showing the depths of the circles under his eyes.

“His leg is broken and he has some internal bleeding but we stabilized him and…”

You knew how hard Sam works, how everyone in this hospital works, getting an up close experience from your time there so you hated to be this person, frantic and begging for answers that he didn’t have.

“Doctor Palmer is an excellent surgeon. I’m gonna call her assistant now to let them know I’m sending you up.”

You nodded, biting your lip and roughly wiping away fresh tears. Sam pulled you into his chest and you felt your knees buckle. Bucky had to make it through surgery, he had to! A heavy sob wracked through you as you thought of the worst. Sam squeezed tighter, wishing he could stay with you upstairs through the surgery. Hell, he’d scrub in himself if they’d let him just so he could say he’s done everything to help his friend through this.

“I’ll be up when I can,” he promised, walking you towards the elevator.

You forced a worried smile. “Thanks Sam. Do you know… did anyone call his parents?”

Sam clenched his jaw as he thought about it. “It was pretty crazy in there, I’m not sure. I could fi–” He was interrupted by someone calling his name and you knew you had taken too much of his time already.

Your stomach dropped as the elevator went up, bringing you to an unfamiliar floor with unfamiliar faces that made you feel like an unwelcome stranger in someone’s home. You let the staff know you were here for James but a by-the-books nurse wasn’t keen on giving you information. Without thinking straight you had stupidly answered no when they asked if you were family, and when you asked if Bucky’s family was called she wouldn’t tell you.

You exhaled a deep, calming sigh, not wanting to yell at the person that was just doing their job, but as you sink into the uncomfortable chair you can’t help but silently cry to yourself. This woman doesn’t know how badly you need to know if Bucky’s okay. She doesn’t know that you spent the last few months ignoring him and wishing you could take it all back. She doesn’t know how much you miss him, how you love him. Even though he broke your heart you couldn’t help yourself from gluing the pieces back together and you needed to tell him, maybe you couldn’t tell him the truth but Bucky needed to at least know that you didn’t hate him.

The clock ticks away slowly and no one has come to speak with you. You stare at Winifred’s profile. She hasn’t updated her status since late in the afternoon. Does she know? Did anyone call them?

You decide they need to know, they need to be here just in case. A wave of nausea rolls over you at the thought and suddenly you become dizzy in your seat. You’re hot, sweating in the hoodie and yet you push on. Shaky fingers google his parent’s names and hometown in the hopes they are listed. You find a number, hesitant to call at this late of an hour. Rebecca was a few hours behind, and you debated messaging them in hopes of a fast reply. Should you do that? Should you be doing this at all?

Fuck.

If you had some answers you could at least feel a little better about all of this. You messaged Rebecca on Instagram telling them what happened and leaving your number. Your cheeks burn like lava as you rest your palm against them, dialing the number that google provided which may or may not be correct.

The phone rings and rings, and with each unanswered ring your stomach twists a little tighter. Relief comes but only slightly by way of Winnie’s bubbly voice prompting you to leave a message. Your voice shakes as you do, letting out a strangled cry as you leave them the limited details you knew about Bucky. Are they sleeping?

It doesn’t take long before your screen lights up with a number you don’t recognize and you were relieved to hear Winnie’s voice. Someone did call her and George, and they were on their way to the hospital.

“Rebecca sent me your number. I’m so happy you’re there. We’ll see you soon sweetheart,” she said, with sobs in her voice.

After hanging up you saw a message from Rebecca repeating what you already knew. They asked if it was okay to call you and you were thankful for the distraction. Together you tried to comfort each other, worrying about Bucky making it through surgery, about their parents driving with little sleep and so much on their minds.

“They’re here,” you said spotting George first from down the hallway, “I’ll call you back.”

It had been at least a half hour since their call and getting up from the chair was slow, your body ached from sitting for too long but you didn’t care. George and Winnie wrapped you in their arms, tears flowing as you embraced. The tears poured a little harder as you gripped them tightly, realizing how nice it was to see them again but wishing desperately it was under different circumstances.

George withdrew first, going up to the desk to let them know he was there. Winnie cupped your face softly, her hands were cold but it felt good against the heat of your skin. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile that released more tears down her reddened cheeks, her eyes already swollen and full of spidery veins.

Together you waited. Talking, pacing, crying, waiting, waiting, waiting until a short woman in green scrubs called out for the Barnes family. The three of you jump up and you feel immediately sick, holding on to Winnie’s arm as you try to read the expression of the woman before she said anything.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes my name is Doctor Palmer, I was the surgeon who worked on your son James.”

Winnie held your hand a little tighter, squeezing as every second went by until Dr. Palmer said he was stable and in recovery.

“He came in with blunt force trauma from a crash. He fractured two ribs and there was some internal bleeding from his spleen which we were able to repair with arterial embolization. However, James had a severe compound fracture of the tibia. We debrided the area and secured the bone with plates and screws. James is in the post op recovery room and he’s awake but not fully lucid.”

A collective sigh of relief filled the waiting room, with mixed tears of happiness flowing freely again. The doctor said a nurse would come by to bring you in to see him shortly and you couldn’t wait. You didn’t know what you would say to Bucky or if he would even be alert enough to hear you but you knew it was time to let him know that the past is in the past and you want to move forward.

A beat fills the room, steady like a metronome to keep the rhythm but the sound is unfamiliar. Too soft for the drums, not high enough for strings. Quick, simple. Piano? No. The sound isn’t broad enough. Keyboard? Yes. Electric, synthy. But it still sounds wrong.

Bucky tries to open his eyes but his lids are too heavy, bolted down by invisible chains. He sees the light of the sun through them. He tries to lift his arm to shut the blinds but even they are too sluggish to move, heavy like they were coated in cement.

He feels the scratch of a rough blanket against his skin, vague thoughts cross his tired mind wondering the whereabouts of his comforter. His toes are cold, feeling like tiny icicles are hanging off them. His right foot drags against the mattress. Was it always this uncomfortable? It’s his left foot that isn’t covered, a sock that probably came off in the night.

In a state of half sleep Bucky tries to wiggle the icicles off and suddenly his whole body feels like it’s been set ablaze. The beat quickens. A terrible pain fires through every nerve. There’s a sharp sensation in his hand when he tries to move it making him wince. His left side has a dull stabbing ache that increases as he takes a deep breath. Bucky feels sore all over like he was just hit by a–

And then he remembers.

His breaths are shallow, the tempo moving rapidly like the hook of an EDM song about to drop the beat as Bucky replayed the scene like a movie. He left the premier’s after party in an Uber never expecting the violent jolt of an SUV t-boning the car into a traffic pole. Everything after was a blur. There were flashing lights, noise, a steady bright light, an angel with the face of Y/N.

Bucky’s eyes fly open in state panic as he looks around wildly at his surroundings. His leg is in a cast, elevated by a sling. Needles in his arm, tubes around his nose, wires everywhere. He felt like a mess, he could only imagine he looked even worse but then all of his worries fade away when he sees Y/N, the angel at his side.

You’re asleep on the chair, elbow propped up on the wooden arm with your head leaning against your palm. It’s not comfortable at all but you didn’t complain, it wasn’t important. It was nearly five in the morning when Bucky was moved to a room. The walls were a dreadful sage green that looked more like dirty money in the dim light of dawn. The room was small but the lack of a second bed for the time being made things seem a little larger.

George went off in search of a third chair for the room as you and Winnie pulled yours up close to Bucky, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Sam came up to visit after his shift ended, introducing himself to Bucky’s parents. The tackling hug Winnie gave him was unexpected by his sleep deprived body but he accepted it all the same, giving her a reassuring hug that everything would be okay. Before he left you whispered a thank you in Sam’s ear, for treating Bucky and giving you a call. You promised to keep him updated as told him to get some rest, he certainly deserved it.

Bucky slept peacefully as you watched over him, your head falling forward and jolting you awake every time you had begun to fall asleep. Winnie had already fallen asleep but you were fighting against your body’s needs. You stared longingly at Bucky, wanting to be awake in case he woke up. George put a gentle hand on your shoulder, nodding with silent permission that it was okay to shut your eyes. A large black cup of coffee aided him in keeping watch and so you blinked slowly, your lids growing heavier with every languid motion until they remained shut for the next few hours. It wasn’t until the sound of rapid beeps that you were alerted into consciousness again.

Your head whipped up quickly with concern at the sound that slowly began to steady, finding Bucky awake with an ever so slight tug of a smile on his lips that grew once you locked eyes. It had been far too long since you looked at Bucky, truly looked at him without anger and heartache clouding your vision.

The scrapes and bruises that littered his face did not hinder any part of his handsomeness. His lips were dull and slightly chapped and yet it didn’t stop you from wanting to press yours against them. You lifted your eyes towards his, feeling blessed to be able to stare at the most beautiful shade of blue once more. They glistened with unshed tears as Bucky gazed back at you.

Your own tears came instantly, falling down the curves of your smile as you leaned over him. Your name fell softly from his lips and hesitantly you lifted your hand, wanting to reach out and caress his face. You pulled it back, dropping your head for a moment, squeezing tears out of your tightly shut eyes. Bucky was a blur when you opened them again but he was there, he was alive and you were more than thankful.

“Hey neighbor,” you sniffled. “It’s good to see you.”

No longer caring if you should or shouldn’t touch his face, you wanted to. Your thumb gently grazed the delicate skin of his cheek, early stubble scratching lightly as you brushed against it.

Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling him smile against your palm. “It’s good to see you too.” His voice was strained, still dry from surgery.

You took Bucky’s hand in your own, careful of the IV sticking out. He asked what happened, knowing he was in an accident but unsure of the details afterwards. It was obvious his leg was broken but you told him the specifics– the emergency surgery to fix his break and stop his internal bleeding, how Sam had treated him when he came into the ER. He smiled at that.

“You broke a few ribs too.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised in acknowledgment. “So that’s why it hurts to breathe.”

Your lips pulled tightly across your face, wishing you could take the pain away from him. The tension released when you felt Bucky squeezing your hand as if he heard your thoughts, offering you comfort when he was the one that really needed it.

“Oh, your parents are here,” you remembered, though you looked around, unsure of where they went. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to contact Claire.” The shock of Bucky’s accident made you forget to text all your friends until the early morning.

His face twists with confusion. “Claire?” Did you really not know? “Claire and I have been broken up for months.”

Your lips move without sound as you try to process what he said. You didn’t know what to say, wondering if Bucky hid his breakup as you had yours. Now you didn’t feel as guilty holding on to the feelings in your heart. You’re about to blurt out the words, to tell Bucky what you couldn’t say back to Peter but the sound of Winnie calling his name stopped you and you turned to see her running up to his bed.

“James, you’re awake. We were so worried,” she cried in his ear, contorting herself around machines while being mindful of Bucky’s injuries.

George walked in with a cup of coffee for you and you thanked him, getting up so he could get closer to Bucky. The warm brew felt good going down even though it wasn’t the best, forgetting to warn them about the cafeteria’s lack of quality. Good thing you weren’t relying on this to keep you awake, not since Bucky shocked every cell of your body into full alertness with his news. Though you were happy to learn he broke up with Claire it still didn’t mean what you wanted it to and you were thankful you hadn’t scared him off with an “I love you.”

Pulling out your phone you saw a text from Wanda, featuring a block of caps locked screaming with question marks and sad emojis. You typed back an update about Bucky, looking over at him with his parents and back down again to the message that was still in the process of sending. It took a few minutes before the message decided not to go through at all.

You excused yourself, letting everyone know you were going to update all your friends about how Bucky was doing. George commented on the terrible service in the room so at least it wasn’t just your phone. You probably could have stood on a chair trying to force better service somehow in different parts of the room but you also wanted to give Bucky and his parents an opportunity for privacy.

“I’ll be right back,” you said with a smile, passing a woman coming in with flowers for the person who had been brought into the other side of the room early in the morning. Your gaze lingered back at Bucky one final time before leaving.

George shared a look with Winnie and staring at her son she said, “Y/N was here all night you know...”

With your phone in hand you follow it like it’s a map with five full bars leading you to treasure. It only took walking around the whole floor to find a good spot on the opposite side of the building near a window for your text to go through. In between sips of coffee you recorded a message for everyone on the group chat, it was so much easier than typing it out and you were still very tired.

You decided to finish your coffee there, giving Bucky and his parents more time as you stared out the window at what looked like a bright and beautiful morning. A slew of notifications came on your phone as half the people responded. Clint was probably still sleeping but Natasha replied asking if Bucky needs anything. Though Peggy was in England she asked if there was anything she could do. Steve wondered if he wanted visitors and asked you to pass along his get well wishes. You typed back that you would find out, promising to keep in touch as the day went on.

When your cup was empty you tossed it into a nearby garbage can and headed back, not expecting to hear your name being called.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You turned to see Elena, concern etched on her face as she held onto your shoulder. Embarrassment washed over you as you remembered how you looked, feeling even worse when you realized that earlier in the week Elena was technically your boss.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay. A friend of mine came in last night, car accident. I’ve…” you took a moment to yawn, covering your mouth, “Excuse me, I’ve been here all night.” You slapped your face lightly to wake up, now wishing the coffee had been stronger. “He’s going to be okay though,” you finished.

“He? Is this Bucky?” she wondered, and you were surprised she recalled his name since the wedding was months ago. You sighed, nodding slowly as your lips pulled into a soft smile. “I hope everything works out.”

Elena hugged you before she turned around to see a patient, reminding you she was here if you needed her. It was really nice to know she was there for you, Elena had become more than a mentor in the time you’ve worked for her.

Heading back in the room you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face when you saw Bucky. The few minutes apart you spent were more than you ever wanted to do again. George moved down a seat so you could sit closer to Bucky, letting him know everyone was asking about him, wondering if he wanted visitors.

Bucky sought your hand again, smiling as your soft touch helped to ease the discomfort he was feeling. It would be nice to see friends but he was more than happy you were here with him. It wasn’t long before a nurse came in to check vitals and Bucky was relieved since he definitely could use more pain medication.

Winnie asked you to join her to get food since no one had really eaten and even though you didn’t want to leave Bucky you weren’t going to say no to his mother. Besides, you needed to steer Winnie away from the cafeteria and the nurse seemed thankful to have less people in the room.

Bucky felt settled after a dose of painkillers, easing the radiating aches from all over his body. George poured a cup of water, handed it to him and set aside the pink plastic pitcher.

“How’re you feeling James?” he asked, forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was cry looking at the state of his son, from the deep purple bruises on his temple to the scrapes that marred his skin.

Bucky gulped down the water, quenching the arid condition of his mouth. “M’okay, a little better I guess.”

“Your head feels okay?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, no one said I hit it or– ”

“Are you sure about that?”

George leaned in closer, as Bucky squinted in confusion. His smile dropped and his eyes grew stern as he organized his thoughts into a more appropriate lecture despite the disappointing anger that bubbled beneath his skin.

“I really wonder James, because see Y/N, a great girl who clearly loves and cares about you and you let her go.” Bucky tried to interrupt, to fill in all the details he hadn’t told him in the past but George wouldn’t let him. “No son, there has to be something wrong with you if you can’t see it.”

“Dad, it’s… it’s complicated,” Bucky let out with a sorrowful sigh.

“James, real love is complicated. It’s wild and passionate as much as it is frustrating, but when you find someone that loves you as much as you love them it makes overcoming obstacles worthwhile. Love isn’t easy but it is easy loving someone that makes you feel alive, that makes life worth living and when you find that someone you don’t let them go. Don’t let her go, James.”

Bucky sits with the weight of his father’s words heavy on his chest. It had already been hard to breathe and now things felt worse. He doesn’t know the full story, how a stupid mistake ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He wants to make it right, to tell you everything not that it would change anything. Bucky assumed that since you spent all night waiting by his side that you at least don’t hate him anymore like you used to, so maybe your friendship can be salvaged. Still, it’s going to hurt him to see you in Peter’s arms but Bucky would rather have you back in his life because not having you there at all is far worse.

You come walking in with his mom, smiling and laughing and it’s such a beautiful sight. The smile on his face can’t help but grow. Bucky watches as his father wraps an arm around his mom, pressing a kiss to her temple. She smiles looking up at him, pulling out sandwiches from a deli you had come from.

“Ohh and someone wants to say hello,” Winnie said, pulling out her phone, trying her best to connect to Rebecca on FaceTime despite the shitty signal. The connection is spotty and Bucky ends up having a regular phone conversation with them. They were definitely happy to hear he was doing better.

After the call Bucky asked about his phone and his mom found the bag of his personal belongings in the closet. She grimaced at the lack of clothes, realizing whatever he came in with was most likely cut off him in the ER, thoughts of the whole ordeal bringing tears to her eyes. Underneath his shoes were his wallet and phone which she handed him, surprised to see the screen had not cracked.

Bucky attempted to turn it on but it was dead. Normally you carry a charger with you but in the rush to leave your apartment that was the last thing on your mind. Your own battery had just passed half its life but you didn’t really care. There was nothing else you needed to focus on today besides Bucky.

His parents stay into the afternoon, getting a chance to speak with the doctor and meeting Natasha, Clint and Steve who arranged their visit together. They left shortly after since the room had gotten crowded between everyone and visitors for the person in the other bed. You and Winnie hugged, squeezing tight for a lingering moment, fighting the urge to cry again out of exhaustion and relief for the night you went through together. George gave an equally strong hug, one that Bucky watched from his bed, overhearing his parents making sure you had both their numbers.

You looked just as tired as they did and Bucky knows you should probably go home. He wonders if you’ll leave when your friends do but when the time comes and Natasha is shrugging on her jacket you make no move to do the same, only getting up to hug them goodbye.

Alone again, Bucky finds comfort in the silence between you, as the speaker for the TV lays beside him filling the background with noise. He watches as you set up the cards he received on the windowsill, making sure Clint’s it’s going tibia okay card is angled so Bucky can see it and smile.

When dinner arrives he frowns at cold peas and carrots, eats the bland chicken and enjoys the soup more than he thought. Bucky urged you to eat something more than the bags of chips and nuts you had been snacking on since the sandwich you split between breakfast and lunch. You insisted you were fine but he forced you to eat his salad, assuring you he was not in the mood to have it.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky groaned through an exhale, his eyes squeezed shut as hissed an unconvincing “yes” through his teeth.

“I need more pain meds and…” he shifted as much as he could trying to ease his discomfort.

“And what? Bucky, whatever it is I can get the nurse in.”

“I… it’s embarrassing,” he admitted.

You smiled softly, leaning close to remind him, “Whatever it is can’t be more embarrassing than the time I nearly shit myself in front of you. Remember? All my trips running to the bathroom hoping I could make it on time?”

Crinkles formed around his eyes as Bucky smiled, chuckling before he realized how much it hurt to do so, at the memory of your food poisoning and the weekend he spent helping you recover. And now here you were by his side, doing the same.

“It’s uh, my…” He looked away, blushing beet red as he squeaked out, “...my catheter. It’s not great.”

An array of expressions crossed your face. “Yeah… I can imagine.” When you finally locked eyes with Bucky again you couldn’t help but smile awkwardly, offering to go get him a nurse.

It took a few minutes to return as you looked for the nurse, coming back with a surprise, Wanda and Sam. Wanda held back tears as she carefully hugged him and Sam couldn’t help but go into doctor mode and ask how Bucky was doing.

“I’m good. Alive thanks to you.”

Sam grinned. “I can’t take all the credit, but you are lucky. Very lucky.”

The nurse lumbered in, tired from a long shift but his demeanor changed upon seeing Sam, the two of them knowing each other well. Riley had praised Sam’s skills having formerly worked beside him in the ER for a while.

“Riley, this is my boy so please, whatever he needs make sure he’s taken care of, alright?” Sam turned to Bucky, “You good? Do you need a sponge bath?”

Bucky sighed, “No Sam, I don’t need a sponge bath.” He blushed with embarrassment, rolling his eyes at his friend’s teasing. “I would really like to pee on my own though.”

“Riley, call the stream team!” Sam shouted a little too loud.

Bucky instantly regretted his admission, pinching the tender bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “It’s nice they let you out for some fresh air Sam, that padded room must get pretty boring.”

Sam wore a toothy smile, happy to see his friend was still in good enough spirits to rib him back. He and Wanda stayed long enough for the shift change and though Sam didn’t personally know the next nurse he introduced himself and wanted to make sure Bucky was taken care of.

Once again you made no move to leave when Sam and Wanda did, getting up only to stretch. Your bones creaked like old wood, stretching out stiff muscles until you felt the slightest bit of relief. The chairs provided were not the most uncomfortable but after almost a day they definitely took a toll.

Bucky notices the way your eyes grow tired, how every action has slowed. You’ve been in the hospital nearly as long as he has and he doesn’t envy you, even with his injuries.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, stirring you alert. “It’s late, you should go home.” Your head shook before you spoke, opening your mouth to protest but he cut you off. “I’m good, I promise. You’ve been here all day and night, go get some sleep in a real bed.”

It would look stupid if you argued at this point, as you tried to fight back a yawn. Bucky asked you for a favor before you left, to grab his keys and bring some clothes and his phone charger tomorrow. “Only if you don’t mind.” Of course you would.

“Oh and one more thing,” he said, his eyes pleading up at you. “Call me when you get home. I need to know you got back safely.”

You nodded, smiling softly, before entering the number from his bedside phone into yours. Leaning down you pressed your lips against Bucky’s forehead, letting them linger against the warmth of his skin. Upon pulling away you shared a moment, smiling back at each other before Bucky took your hand.

“Thank you Y/N,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There was so much Bucky meant within those words and by the way you looked at him he believed you knew.

With his body on fire Bucky still rested easier than he had in the last few months, knowing at the very least he had you in his life again.

The subway rocks gently as you travel down the familiar route to the hospital, this time not worrying about making it on time to clock in but with excitement fluttering in your belly to be able to see Bucky again.

Last night you called him just before you went into his apartment, grabbing the few things he asked for and not lingering. You were a second away from crashing, having enough energy to plug your phone in before your face hit the pillow.

In the morning you showered, drinking a strong cup of coffee as you got ready. You didn’t bother with much but it felt good to look presentable. You grabbed Bucky’s things, texting people before you lost service underground. Rebecca thanked you for the updates and said they were looking to fly in towards the end of the week. George and Winnie would definitely be happy to see them again. They contacted you this morning as well, saying they would be seeing you at the hospital in a bit.

Bucky tried to keep himself occupied, shutting his eyes and eventually finding sleep for a few hours before the nurse needed to check his vitals. He stared out his window, watching the dark blanket of the sky slowly lift over the buildings, falling asleep once more before the next round of nurses coming in. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to heal if he can’t sleep but the doctor lets him know he should be released tomorrow or the following day.

It lifts his mood but the height of his spirits soar high above the atmosphere when Bucky saw you walking into his room. You look much more rested than he does and he’s happy about it. He savors your arms around him, feasting upon the scent of your floral shampoo, your smile bringing sunshine upon a gloomy world.

You put the clothes he asked for in his closet, taking his phone and plugging it into the nearest outlet, settling down again in the familiar chair beside his bed. You were just as excited to hear about Bucky getting released soon, the thought of him being just beyond your shared wall again was comforting.

After charging for a little bit Bucky asked for his phone, just to check a few quick messages. You got up to unplug it, the screen lighting up and making your mouth fall open. Bucky’s lock screen was you! Well, it was the two of you, from that time Winnie was testing out her new phone. It was a beautiful memory, a candid capture of a moment in time when you gazed into each other’s eyes, the corners of your mouths settled into a smile; two people holding back the feelings that were written so evidently across their faces.

You pretended not to have seen it, handing him the phone with the screen down. Bucky nearly forgot about the picture himself, his eyes flitting quickly your way as he tried not to breathe too hard and have the monitors give away his panicked state.

Your head was turned up towards the TV, watching The Golden Girls through the muffled sound of the speaker resting against the side of the bed. You couldn’t look at Bucky in the moment, not when you felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. No, you needed this time to collect your thoughts, to find the perfect words to express exactly how you felt and right when they were at the tip of your tongue you held them back.

Winnie and George walked in looking a lot better than they had yesterday. They greeted you both and settled in for the next few hours. They too were excited about his impending release, offering Bucky to recover at their home.

“No, ma I’ll be fine. The building has an elevator, I’m good.”

Worry crossed her face. “What about food shopping? What about bathing?”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “Well you’re not gonna bathe me if that’s what you think.”

You swallowed a chuckle, shifting your expression to a serious one offering your help. “For the food shopping,” you nervously added. Learning from the past, you shut your mouth to avoid the risk of digging yourself a deeper, awkward hole.

His parents left to get lunch for everyone since Bucky was sick of cold vegetables, and the two of you were alone again. He cleared his throat, licking his lips before asking, “You really don’t mind helping me?”

Your smile answered him before your words. “Of course not. Plus we still have a lot of pizza to try.”

You bit your lip watching the smile spread across his face, relief washing over him as things seemed to snap back into place as if nothing had changed. But Bucky forgot about Peter. You had been spending so much time with him this weekend he almost convinced himself things were different.

“Peter isn’t mad you’ve been gone all weekend?” Bucky asked, doing a poor job in hiding the uneasiness in his face as he anticipated your answer. He’s a glutton for punishment, reminding himself that things will never truly be the same again and little does he know how right he is.

“I broke up with him weeks ago.”

Your answer takes a moment to register, the realization hitting Bucky more than the impact of the accident. “Why?”

Haloed by the glow of the sun behind you, the words sang like the message of an angel, because there had to be some sort of divine intervention that brought all of Bucky’s dreams true when you answered, “Because he wasn’t you.”

A tear slipped down your face and Bucky lifted his hand, cupping your cheek and brushing it away. You cupped his hand against you, exhaling staccato breaths and smiling down at the man that brought music into a world that felt silent without him.

You leaned down, the tip of your nose grazing against his, your smile matching his as you closed the distance, pressing your lips together once more. The sound of love flooded your soul as you and Bucky found harmony at last.

EPILOGUE

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[djadins]

jate’kara | the mandalorian x f!reader — part two

You and the kid run into trouble on Nevarro’s surface.

warnings: canon-typical violence

rating: T

word count: 2k

The short walk into town was quiet, save for the tiny green gremlin’s snores. You couldn’t help but beam down at him every once in a while as one of his little fists had started grasping your shirt. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t know that Mando was behind you. He was as silent as the night.

Navarro and it’s inhabitants were bustling this morning. Vendors were out in full, selling their goods and wares. You made a mental path for yourself to follow in order to get everything you needed quickly and efficiently, but doubted Mando would leave you if you went a little past midday.

A touch on the small of your back sent a shiver up your spine. “I’ve got something to take care of before we head out. I’ll find you out here when I’m finished.”

You nodded at the Mandalorian. Your back still tingled at his touch as you watched him walk away. His movements were deft, weaving through the crowd with ease and precision. Only the end of his cloak made contact with any of the passerby’s. You released the breath you were holding. Looking down, you noted the baby was still asleep. You hoped he would stay that way until the shopping was over.

You were happy that your visits to various stalls went quickly. You grabbed some general maintenance supplies you might need for the ship, a few new clothes, a blanket, some food. You mentally cursed yourself for not taking better stock of what was already on the ship, but you figured Mando had a basic first aid kit and some food and water at the very least.

The kid started to wake up, his hunger finally starting to get the better of him. He made a sad sound, looking up at you with his big eyes. “Alright buddy, I’m pretty much finished anyways. Let’s have a little snack.” You patted his big green head and walked to the outside of the market.

You lifted him out of your makeshift sling and set him on your lap. You had found a crate to seat the two of you for the time being. To your back lie run down houses with many interconnected alleyways. It was colder here, Nevarro’s lone sun not quite shining behind the buildings. You grabbed some of the jerky in your bag and handed a piece to the kid. He put the entire piece in his mouth and swallowed before you even had a chance to blink. “Note to self, teach the kid some manners,” you said sarcastically under your breath while grabbing the remainder for him to eat.

You were about to pass over what was left to him, but before you could, he leapt out of your lap and went scrambling down one of the alleyways. “Kid!” you screamed after him, tripping over yourself to get off the crate. You quickly made your way after him, but you were unsure of where he went. Three paths were laid out in front of you and you weren’t sure of which he took. Panic began to creep in. You closed your eyes and took a breath in. Sweat had accumulated on your upper lip and forehead and you wiped both away, opening your eyes. You knelt on the ground and felt the dirt below your hands. Focus, you told yourself.

You noticed a strange little trail in the dirt. It had to be the kid’s shawl. You got up, quickly following the winding alleyway further and further. When you heard what you thought was the kid, you started to sprint down the alley.

When you rounded the corner you saw him. He was sitting on the ground, mouth closed but expanded as if it was full of something. He saw you and swallowed down the lump in his mouth, cooing and shuffling towards you. You angrily scooped him up and held him tight to your chest. “Don’t ever run off on me again you little terror,” you said breathlessly.

You heard a whistle come from around one of the buildings near you. “Ay sweetheart. That your kid?” came an accented voice. You clenched your jaw, lifting the kid into his sling around your body. “Must get his looks from daddy, you could do better.”

You rolled your eyes. “From the likes of you? No thanks.”

The man chuckled and whistled again. “From the likes of us,” he corrected.

Three other men came slinking out from behind the buildings. You took a breath in to steady yourself and looked at your surroundings. With all the running to catch the kid, you weren’t sure exactly where you were or how to get back to the market. Your calves were burning and you were flushed and out of breath. The man who had been talking to you wasn’t big by any means and under normal circumstances you could have probably fought him. But you had the kid, and his three buddies were much bigger than the both of you.

“Bet she smells as pretty as she looks,” came a deep voice from a balding, tattooed man.

You bit your lip, considering your options. Running was out of the question, as the kid would slow you down and you were certain the four of them would catch up to you. Fighting was definitely not an option. So, that left talking.

“Look, my employer is expecting me and he’ll be really upset if I’m not back in a few minutes.” Nice one idiot, real threatening.

“Ah, your employer ya say?” said the first man, taking a few steps toward you. You in return took a few steps back. The man pulled a knife out, wiggling it around in the air. “I think we could be your new bosses, ain’t that right boys?” A few hoots and whistles came from behind him. He continued to creep forward towards you and you continued back, until your shoulders hit the side of building and you couldn’t go back any further.

“We’ll be *real* nice to ya,” he whispered venomously, only a few feet from you now.

“Don’t touch me,” you threatened, your voice coming out low and throaty. The kid whined into your chest.

The man chuckled. “We got a feisty one boys!” His men joined in on the laughter. You couldn’t stop the shiver that reverberated through you.

You tensed up as he approached, only inches away from you now. His hand ghosted over the side of your face and you turned to face the other direction. You watched his other arm shoot out beside you, palm lying flat against the wall of the building. One of his fingers grasped your hair and you whipped your head back into his direction. Your knee made contact with his crotch faster than you could register what you were doing. He crumpled over in pain, shouting at his mates. “I said don’t touch me,” you muttered.

“Grab! Her!” he yelled at them from the ground, pointing in your direction.

You took off sprinting in the direction you thought was right, holding the kid tight against your chest to keep him from bouncing around too much. Every turn felt wrong but you couldn’t stop now, your legs carrying you as fast as you could physically manage. You could hear the men’s laughter behind you, coming closer and closer.

Before you realized it, you had an arm around your throat, slamming you into the ground. You gasped for air. It was the bald one. He put his hands under your armpits and lifted you to your feet, pushing you against the wall of another building. “Got her boss!” he called out.

The man you sent to the ground earlier was back on his feet, creeping around his friend to get a look at you. You struggled against the big bald one’s grip. He responded by taking one of his hands against the side of your face and pushing your head into the building. Your cheek felt cool and wet against it.

“It’ll be worse for you if you struggle,” the boss warned.

The big one took his grip off you and was replaced by the smaller man. The other three hovered closely behind him. He again pulled out his knife and pushed the tip of it lightly against your cheek.

“Why don’t we start again, darlin’,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. You closed your eyes tightly. The kid whimpered into your chest again, burying his little body into yours.

“O.. Okay,” you conceded. “Just let me put him down.”

The man jerked his head to the side. “Fine.”

You took your bag off slowly and put it on the ground next to you. Then you gentle reached toward the kid, unclenching his fists from your shirt. He struggled to stay against your body. You lifted him out of the sling and set him down by your bag. He jumped towards your leg and wrapped his arms around it. You undid the sling from your chest and set it on top of your bag.

The man’s mouth curled into an unpleasant looking smile. “C’mon boss, lets get started already,” one of the men groaned from around you. You gently pushed the kid off your leg with your other foot while the boss trailed his knife down the length of your body.

You grabbed the hand holding the knife and twisted it back as hard as you could. It fell out of his hand and as he started sinking to the ground you punched him as hard as you could in the face. You kicked his chest and he fell hard. The other three started to react and you scrambled to grab the knife from the ground.

A wire wrapped around the bald ones leg and sent him flying back. He landed face down into the dirt and the two left standing whipped around. You choked back a sob at the sight of Mando, blaster in an outstretched arm.

“Let them go,” his modulated voice warned.

One of the two men’s hands started towards the blaster holstered on his waist. You quickly threw the knife, hitting him square in the hand. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees on the ground, cradling the hand with the knife sticking out of it.

Mando shot the last one in the leg and he, too, sunk to the ground in pain. Blaster still in hand, pointed at the men, he made his way over to you and the kid. You saw a flash of green and brown running towards him and Mando was quick to scoop him up into his free arm.

He walked over to you, his back never facing the men. “Are you alright?”

You couldn’t speak so you nodded, adrenaline flowing freely in your veins. The boss started crawling on the ground towards you and Mando put his foot on the man’s throat. He lowered his blaster towards his head.

“Mando?” you called, voice sounding smaller than ever.

He shot, missing the man’s head purposefully by a few inches. The dirt stirred around his face. “All of you. Leave. Now,” Mando growled.

Mando’s foot left the man’s throat and the lot of them scurried away. You both watched in silence as they fled down the alleyway, hobbling and tripping over themselves. After a few moments Mando turned to you. You looked into his helmet only to see your disheveled appearance staring back at you.

“Did they hurt you?” he inquired again.

You shook your head.

Mando holstered his blaster and grabbed the hand that you had used to punch the man earlier. You sucked a breath in, hand tender and swollen. He flipped it around, examining it. “We can take care of this back on the ship. Grab your things, we are leaving.”

You did as he said, stuffing the kid’s sling in your bag. You followed Mando back to the ship, neither of you saying a word. The kid was mostly silent too, cradled in Mando’s arm. You stuck as close to Mando as you could without tripping over him.

When you finally made it back to the ship, Mando placed the kid on the floor. He closed the ramp and turned to you. You stood in front of him, motionless. He gently took your bag off your shoulder and set it on a crate. “Have a seat on the bed,” he instructed.

You did as he said and he pulled a little white box from a crevice in the ship’s wall. He kneeled beside your legs, rummaging through the box. When he found what he was looking for, he looked up at you. “Your wrist is sprained and your hand will probably bruise from that blow you landed. I’m going to wrap it for you and then you and the kid can get some rest.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your hand and nodded. Mando took off his gloves and you focused your eyes on what he was doing. His hands were rough and peppered with scars, but he was gentle, slowly wrapping a gauze around you. His voice pulled you out of your trance.

“That knife throw, where did you learn how to do that?”

You cleared your throat. “My uncle. He taught me the basics.”

“Basics? That throw was incredibly precise. I don’t even know if I could have done it.”

You chuckled. “Don’t try and flatter me, Mando.”

Mando tucked the end of the gauze in and looked up at you. “I’m not,” he stated matter-of-factly. “That throw was impressive. You have skill.”

You shrugged. “I’ve had to defend myself before.”

The Mandalorian huffed and rose to his feet. He towered above you from your place on the bed. “Please, rest. You both could use it.” He slipped his gloves back on and turned around to pick up the kid from his spot on the floor, already fast asleep.

You kicked off your dusty shoes and crawled backward into the bed. Mando gently placed the sleeping kid into his hammock. You saw him give the little one a few head rubs. You curled into your usual ball and closed your eyes.

A weight on your body caused them to flutter open and you noticed a blanket had been placed on top of you, but Mando was nowhere in sight.

[anyoneseenadam]

Home: chapter one

azriel x reader (acotar) 

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast. 

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 2.8k 

a/n: this is the first proper fic I have written in so so so long and i’m legit nervous to post it so pls be nice, plus feedback is always appreciated. there are more parts to come, I’m not sure how many yet but i’m going to try post regularly! message me if you wanna be tagged and i’m gonna try figure out how to make a masterlist :) 

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The view from your window was beautiful yet haunting. Your eyes roamed over countless wildflowers, yet your stare would linger on a poppy or a Red Admiral butterfly and you were back there. You were tied down and crying, body and brain equally numb until another searing lash stripped your back of flesh, white-hot pain rushing through your body and forcing an involuntary cry to tear from your lips.

You quickly stood, wiping your hands down your skirt in an attempt to quell the memories surfacing, the ones you had desperately tried to supress since you had fallen. You quickly moved, all but running to the bathroom, needing to do something, anything, so long as it got you out of your head. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, looking exactly as you felt. The dark circles under your eyes from nights spent with hot tears flowing freely down your cheeks and into your hair and ears made you look ghostly, paired with the dull tone your skin had taken on, losing its natural glow. You looked as empty as you felt, a shell of the person you once were.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you quickly moved away, instead walking to the kitchen, the nausea from not eating overcoming you, yet the thought of eating just made you more nauseous. You found an apple at the bottom of a practically empty fridge and cleaned it softly, then used a blade to cut it into four, forcing it down, repeating the benefits it gave your body as you went, the basic information you had learned in your high school biology class, using the information to push through the sick feeling residing in your stomach, and instead focusing on the energy you desperately needed.

Your gaze drifted to the ajar door that led to your expansive garden, the cottage you lived in itself was small, but your garden was your pride and joy, your power sifting through all the plants in it, bringing them to life in ways of indescribable beauty, nearby animals coming to exist in harmony, safe under the care of their protector. But recently the usual vibrancy of the garden was dimming, the grass turning yellow and the plants wilting. There were no deer napping under bushes and barely any birds taking full advantage of the seed you laid out for them. You pushed past the door and into the garden, the plants brightening as you trailed your hands over their leaves. You found your favourite spot to sit in and dragged your fingers through the grass, smiling despite yourself as it visibly perked up, turning greener instantly. Your gaze trailed to a ruby throated hummingbird that had landed on the special feeder you left out for them, your breath hitching at the red colour, mind instantly returning to the dark, unable to tear your eyes away from the innocent bird.

The first thing you remember seeing was red, red water flowing like blood, red rocks beneath your bent knees, and your skin tinted red from dried blood seeping out of the wounds the chains around your wrists had inflicted on you. You sought to remember where you were, your mind drifting back to how you clung to Annabeth, your stomach aching from what must have been a broken rib, even as she was roughly pulled backwards, even as Percy desperately grabbed her, falling over the edge too, not quite reaching Nico’s shaking hand as he desperately tried to save you. You remembered been torn from their grip during the fall, a Fury hoping for a demi-god it could pick apart, you remember Annabeth screaming they would save you. But you don’t remember landing here, and you don’t remember the chains being attached to your wrists and ankles, or your shirt being removed, a choice you decided couldn’t mean anything good. However, you knew you would never forget the dark chuckle you heard behind you. Or the colour red.  

--

Azriel didn’t know where he was. He knew he wasn’t in his world at least, but that was as far as his knowledge went. He was simply tired after a long mission far away from Velaris and his family and had tried to travel through the shadows to his home. Yet here he was, farther away from home than he had ever been and absolutely exhausted. He stepped out of his shadows and had to blink as the tallest buildings he had ever seen came into view. He absentmindedly took a step forward, then another until he was roughly shoved into, a man with a thick accent he couldn’t place swearing at him. His head whipping around as he got his bearings and moved to follow the direction more people than he could believe were walking until the crowd thinned out.

With less people present he slowed his pace, hands drifting to his pockets when civilians stared, old insecurities that never really left him rising to the surface, and instead took the time to admire the strange world he was in. the fashion in this new world was vastly different to his own, groups of girls congregating in tiny shorts and tight tops, next to groups in which there were girls in all black and boys in skirts. There were men and women dressed sharply talking quickly to no-one in particular, with hands pressed to their ears, there were people in rags begging for money and there were people dressed in ways he couldn’t even fathom to understand. By the time he reached the end of the street he was sure he had seen everything, and walked onto a more recognisable street, one with smaller buildings, unlike the magnificent glass structures, made from stone and wood and with friendlier faces behind stalls filled with food he recognized along with food he had never seen before.

He made his way through the market, losing track of time, the initial anxiety he felt seeping away, if he got here, he could easily return home, right? Instead, he chose to focus on the culture of this new world, determined to tell his family of the wonder he had uncovered, faintly hearing different languages from people’s conversation, and music coming from the open window of what he presumed was a coffee shop. He distantly wondered if they could see his wings, as no-one eyes lingered the way he had grown used to, in fact it seemed they couldn’t look at them, he presumed humans in this world simply had a natural glamour preventing them from seeing fae, that being said however, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t spot another fae.

Eventually he reached the end of the street and decided he should return home now in order to stop his family from worrying, searching for a shadowed alley so as to not draw to much unwanted attention to himself. He walked to an alley that he decided would do the trick, excited to share this adventure with his family, but stopped short when he came face to face with a girl in a short skirt with incredibly pale skin and fire-like hair leaning over a passed-out man, sucking blood from his neck. She looked up when he approached and he saw that her hair was not just fire-like but literally fire, and her eyes were glowing red, and angry. More alike her then came out of the shadows, he quickly counted six, sighing as he pulled Truth-teller out of its sheath.

Shit. I am not in the mood for this.

--

You strolled through your favourite farmers market in NYC, the colours that filled the stalls always bringing some cheer back into your life, along with the thought of home-made meals and your practically overflowing basket, filled with fruit, vegetables, bread, and other necessities, but not meat, not since the animals started speaking to you when you first arrived at camp, and nothing red, you still couldn’t face that.  

You made a quick stop at your favourite coffee place, opting to get your drink to go, only making polite conversation when you had to, and smiling through any other interaction. You were soon ready to leave, basket and dusty blue corduroy jacket slung over one arm, cup in that hand and your phone that the Hephaestus cabin had adapted in the other, when you heard pained grunts and the cackle of a monster you wished you could just forget already from a nearby alley.

You gave a pained sigh, looking longingly at your coffee before chugging it and throwing the cup in a nearby bin, making your way over to the alley. When you got there, you saw an unnaturally dark alley filled with a gaggle of Empousa surrounding a tall, winged man who was fighting incredibly well but clearly hadn’t gotten the celestial bronze memo, as his blade was defective.

“Long time no see ladies” you said, smirking at the growls that tore from the back of their throats as they tore around to stare at you, recognition in their horrifyingly red eyes. “What no hugs, no happy reunions?”

“You.” The middle one snarled, lunging forward, only to be cut down by the thick, green vine you had grown, intertwined with strands of celestial bronze you kept wrapped around your wrists disguised as thin, looping bracelets, and exploding into dust which you nonchalantly wiped from your shoulder.

“Whose next,” you laughed as three of them leaped at you, two staying behind and keeping the winged man, who had taken to staring at you with an unreadable expression, occupied. You destroyed them quickly enough to see the man falter as one of the Empousa force their talon like nails into his side, twisting it and pulling it out. You rolled your eyes, moving to pick up his slack, wrapping the vine around its neck and pulling until it exploded into the fine dust. The man was on the floor now, clutching his side, as you stalked forward to the final monster.

“You know I really just wanted a chill day,” you complained,

“I remember you,” it hissed, smiling at you with razor sharp teeth.

You fought a shudder and forced the memories down, “I’m glad I made an impression.”

“They want you back you know, we never got to finish playing.”

You snarled and went to move, but it was too fast, and you realised your mistake in waiting too long as it released a piercing cry that must have notified monsters from miles away, “shit,” you muttered under your breath, killing it quickly and moving to the winged man’s side.

“Hey, any chance those wings are good at flying,” you asked, “cause we’re about to be swarmed and I really just wanna get home.” You put his arm over your shoulders and dragged him up, grunting under his weight.

“I-it, poison.” Was all he said, fully leaning on you.

“Shit, okay um,” you racked your brain for an idea, furrowing your brows when you saw monsters start coming around the corner, eyeing you like their favourite toy. The man looked up from beneath his thick, dark hair before cursing and tightening his grip on your shoulder.

“Just hold on,” he said,

“What? Wait no!” you shouted, clinging to his arm as suddenly you were engulfed in darkness, only to suddenly be blinded by bright, hot light, forcing your eyes closed.

When you opened them again, you were on a sandy beach facing an impossibly blue ocean. Your mouth fell open and you turned to ask the man some questions, (or yell at him you were yet to decide) just in time to watch him collapse, falling onto the sand with a soft thud, red blood steadily flowing out of his side, the blood draining from your face at the sight.

Shit.

--

You stared down at the man in disbelief for at least two minutes. He can shadow-travel. Is he a son of Hades? Gods know I don’t need another step sibling. Also, where the fuck am I? Why a beach? Is it LA? I might marry him if it’s LA. A million thoughts raced through your head as you stared at him, guessing that the unnatural darkness you saw before must have come from the shadows you could now see were surrounding him, protecting him from the light and, when you moved closer, you. From what you could see, he was handsome, if not slightly dead looking, thick, dark hair and a lean, muscular build. Wait dead looking? You cursed jumping into action, checking his pulse, relieved when you found it, before moving to his side using the knife you kept tucked into your boot to hack through the leathers he was wearing in order to reveal the gash.

It wasn’t wide but seemed deep as it was gushing dark red blood, you blanched and screwed your eyes shut at the sight, fighting the memories of your own dark red blood. You opened your eyes purposefully not looking at the cut as you used his torn leathers to put pressure on the cut and start dragging him up the beach to an area you could grow the thin vines you would need as makeshift stitches.

--

Azriel woke to an extreme discomfort in his side, in a place he didn’t recognise. He pushed up into a sitting position, wincing at the reminder of his wound, and looked around, finding himself shirtless, surrounded by trees on a sandy floor. A girl was sitting cross-legged, staring- no- glaring at him and he felt himself return a confused expression, vaguely remembering her as the girl that had killed the monsters that he could have sworn were completely invulnerable.  

“What are you?” She asked suddenly, her bluntness taking him by surprise, but before he could answer she continued, “I mean I’m presuming you’re some sort of child of Hades, given you shadow travelled, but I don’t understand what else, cause you’re defo not part human?”

“Hades?” he asked, frowning at the words he didn’t understand.

“Yeah?” she asked slowly, raising her eyebrows at him as if it was something obvious.

He scoffed, “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“Oh, is that so? No thank you or anything? I mean it’s not like I saved your life and I mean least of all I would expect an apology.” She was rambling as she stared at him in disbelief.

“An apology?”

“Yeah, for getting me stuck here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Fuck if I know,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, “I thought you know, I’ve done enough, I’ll let him find a cure for that poison on his own, I just wanna go home, so I decided lets get my bearings. I’ll find a high place and work out where I am, only to climb to the top of a fucking mountain and realise you got us stuck on a fucking Island!”

He slowly stood, bracing himself on a tree, as she remained sat, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. He shook his head, not needing to babysit this girl, and instead shot up from the ground, flying above the island to see she was in fact correct, there didn’t seem to be land for miles.

Suddenly, a sharp shooting pain went up his right side and he lost control of his balance for a second, all but plummeting to the ground.

“Yeah you shockingly haven’t healed completely yet,” the girl said moving to his side and pushing away his maimed hands from his wound, barely even glancing at the scars, “I have some ideas as to what will cure the poison, but if you want to fly away and leave me to die here, be my guest,” every word was dripping with sarcasm and he fought back a growl at her as she inspected his wound, were he saw he had torn the peculiar, green stitches.

He watched her carefully, not fully trusting her, as she inspected his stitches, furrowing his eyebrows when she significantly paled at the sight of his blood. “What scared of a little blood,” he instantly regretted the biting words when she snarled at him and put more pressure on the wound than was necessary, feeling slightly guilty given she had saved his life, but her attitude was infuriating, and he just wanted a hot bath and food.  

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to stitch you back up, and then we’re gonna find a lake or some source of fresh water, you’re going to heal extremely quickly so you can take us back home and you’re not going to give me anymore shit? Kapeesh?” The stare she gave him could’ve rivalled his own in terms of intimidation, but instead of challenging her he just nodded, setting his jaw.

“Good. Now, nice to meet you, I’m (y/n),” she said reaching out a hand,

“Azriel.” Was all he said, meeting her small, soft hands in his rough, scarred ones, the difference in texture astounding him, still not entirely used to touch, and ignored the tightness in his chest when she offered him a cocky smirk.

[sinisterlyhan]

01. hwang hyunjin / 1789 words

fluff, soft sex, unprotected sex, female reader 

a/n: for @scxrlettwxtches​ love you bb 🙆🏻‍♀️💞

the truth was that hyunjin felt nervous.

in all his years of experience, he couldn't remember ever feeling his heart clench the way it did the moment you pulled away from him, your hands reaching down from the tousled locks of his hair to his fingers that fiddled with the hem of your pajama shirt.

it was just a stupid habit of his. he has been doing it ever since your relationship progressed to a point where he could freely makeout with you whenever he so desired. it was just a manifestation of his fantasy—hoping he could take your shirt off, wanting to take your shirt off, needing to take your shirt off just so he could admire your body in the most naked way possible.

hyunjin didn't think you like him enough to let him do it, yet here you were, eyes glazed past by the pouring of moonlight outside the window and mouth ajar at the saliva strand that connected your lips, practically asking him to act on his impulse.

your breasts were on full display as soon as he removed it from your body, discarding it to the side with not much care. but unlike what you had expected, the first thing he did after he threw your shirt away was to kiss you. he kissed you, hard, his brows furrowing passionately and his jaw clenching at the intensity.

his hand roamed your skin, fingers ghosting hotly against its surface before he gave your waist a brief squeeze. and while one hand remained around your waist to keep you close on his lap, his other hand flew up to cup your breast in his hand. you moaned into his mouth at the pressure, pleasantly surprised and thoroughly enjoying the way his tender palm kneaded against your boob.

when he pulled away, it was only to remove you from his lap and to pin you down on the mattress. he grabbed your thighs, guiding it to the side of his hips before scooting closer in between. he took his own shirt off in the meantime, causing your eyes to widen at his toned arms and lean body, and the pool between your legs jolted excitedly in your mind.

your anticipation was soon fulfilled when hyunjin leaned back in to claim your lips again. your hand flew up to where his own laid, cupping your jaw carefully as he sucked at your bottom lip. you let out a loud gasp, something close to a faint moan, when he grinded his bulge against your clothed core. you could feel his length, and you thought you almost had it memorized just from that single movement.

taking the chance to slip his thumb between you teeth, hyunjin smirked at the way you knew to suck on it without asking. his free hand roamed down your body, giving your breast one more squeeze before they reached down to the pool of wetness stained on your panties. he raised a brow, almost smugly if your eyes were clear enough to see. and he pressed his fingers against you to eliciting a soft whimper.

ahh. he really fucking loves this.

with his initial shyness gone in a blink of an eye, hyunjin carefully moved your panties to the side and teased you by sticking only the tip of his finger against your entrance and running it up your slit. he was slow, wanting to catch every single micro-reaction you make, wanting to see which part of your cunt would release what kind of response from you.

you whimpered and squirmed, moaned and sighed as he finally fulfilled your fantasy by inserting his long digits into your hole. he felt you soak his skin up, your walls warm and sticky as they desperately clenched around his fingers. he groaned at the feeling—god, he could already imagine how tightly fitted you would be when he finally bottoms out inside of you.

"hyun–hyunjin–"

"mmm?" he hummed, pulling in and out of you as if he has got all the time in the world, which he knew he didn't.

and it wasn't because the night would end soon. it was because the hardened member underneath his sweats wouldn't be able to take much more of you whimpering his name so needily like this. hyunjin was just testing his limits at this point, wondering how long he could go without stuffing you full of him, ramming against you until he could feel your intense release.

you were lustfully clenching around his digits, wanting more, wanting bigger. the lewd sound of your juices only accentuating more and more as he shoved harder and harder. with quickened breaths, you met his eyes with your pleading ones, and you begged with a hasty whisper.

"hyunjin, hyunjin please." god, you felt embarrassed but you needed it so much. you needed him to fill you up. "please fuck me."

his heart jumped. it bolted to his eyes, sparkling, and it ran to his cheeks, blushing. how could you even manage to do this to him with the bare minimum? by just looking so brokenly desperate for him, with your voice saying the dirtiest wishes he has ever heard you utter. and his filthy name has never sounded better coming from your heavenly voice.

removing his fingers from you, he sat up and immediately took his sweats off. your chest heaved at the mere sight of his dick, his tip as pink as his plumpy lips while he pumped it with the hand he just fingered you with, rubbing your essence all over him.

he positioned himself at your entrance, massaging your slit in preparation and making you whine impatiently. he giggled under his breath, loving the fact that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. when he finally slithered himself into you, slowly and carefully, your breath hitched and water welled up in your eyes at the unfamiliar stretch.

hyunjin pouted as he leaned down to pepper kisses all over your face, one hand playing with the strands of your hair while the other pressed against your stomach to keep you down. "shh, it's okay, you are doing so great," he whispered, suppressing a moan when you impossibly tightened around his length.

he wanted to move—fuck, he needed to move. but he also wanted to make sure you felt okay about this before he continued, so he laid on top of you between your hips, kissing your discomforts away until you looked up at him and sighed with a raspy tone.

"can i move?" he asked, warmth trickling past his lips onto yours as he stared into your eyes at an infinitely close distance.

"yes, please," you replied quietly.

and hyunjin did. he pulled out of you and slammed himself back in, reliving the feeling of being wrapped around by you again and again. he didn't hit you fast but he hit you hard, reaching places you would never be able to do on your own and causing friction a plastic toy could never provide.

he wanted to feel you thoroughly, which was why he was taking his time with this. thrusting into you lovingly, hyunjin was aiming to make you remember how he feels, aiming to make sure he will never forget all the noises he fucked out of you.

he planned to leave a permanent mark on both of your minds—this was the night that sealed the deal for you both.

"fuck," he mumbled against your lips, his eyes squinting when you wrapped your legs tighter around him after he hit a specific, pleasurable spot.

removing his lips from yours, he attached them to your jaw instead and trailed down your neck. you hissed, your hands flying to grip his arms as he sucked hues of purples and blues on your baby skin, possessively marking you as his even though he knew you would cover it all up the next day.

but just the mere thought of you being reminded of this encounter every time you see those hickeys was enough for him to feel a sense of dignified bliss and serve as an incentive for him to keep going.

hyunjin picked up his pace soon, his body unable to tolerate the slow pace when the lust kept building up in his chest, pulling his body closer to yours as a signal that he needed to go rougher on you. he buried his face to the nape of your neck, growling lowly as his hips snapped against yours at an increasing speed.

you had hugged his sweaty body close, your hardened nipples brushing against his hot skin and you shivered at the sensitivity. every time your walls expand you get reminded of the shape of him, even though it wasn't like you have forgotten about it, and you moan at the tenderly blissful feeling whenever his tip brushed against your g-spot.

the pleasure piling in your abdomen was threatening your release, and you clawed at his back when hyunjin seemed to slam harder into you, his dick bringing you closer and closer to the edge with each thrust.

"fuck—hyunjin, i'm—" your words came out jittery and incoherent, but he knew what you wanted to say.

he increased his speed, if that was even possible anymore, but hyunjin appeared to have an inexhaustible amount of stamina. he turned his head to kiss your jaw and suck on it, his words muffled against your skin as he spoke, "cum around me, do it."

with a few harsh snaps of his hips, you released one jolting groan and came undone with him still buried deep inside you. hyunjin sucked in a deep breath, his eyes rolling upwards as your essence coated his member in warm delight, and he fucked himself into you a few more times before he quickly pulled out to spill his own release on your body.

he sat back against his legs when he was done, his dick went limp in his hand and his eyes fixated on the strings of sticky cum on your tummy. like paint on a canvas, you were beautifully crafted out under the brushes of his body and he wanted nothing more than to admire you like this.

but he leaned down anyway, all against his wishes to watch you drown in the blue moonlight, and he kissed you softly with a hand caressing your cheek. it was sweet, everything that happened was sweet and tender, and you felt treasured under his touch the way he felt wanted under yours.

when he pulled away to look into your eyes, his own sparkling with grace, he knew what you wanted to say.

this could be more. you two could be more.

you two are more.