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i-cant-sing · 3 years

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Promise: Yandere Godfather Hawks x Todoroki reader

This is a side story takes place in the YRHR series, after part 1, when the reader returns home, blind.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Y/n... Come on, wake up. Its 9 already." You heard him say, feeling the bed dip as he sat on it, gently touching the back of your shoulder. "Aren't you hungry? Mom's making your favourite."

When you gave no response, Shotou pulled the covers away from your face, his brows furrowing at the bandages around your eyes that had loosened up. You had did that, clawing at the meticulously tight knot Natsuo had done; you didn't like how it settled on your eyes.

"You're awake, right?" The only answer he got was you turning your cheek further away from him when he tried to caress it. Shotou didn't like your silence and he missed it when you used to ramble about almost anything to him. He missed when you were happy.

The door bell rang.

Shotou looked at his watch confused. Wasn't Natsuo supposed to come around at 11? He could hear Enji walking to the main door, and after a few seconds of silence, he heard footsteps coming towards your room. But then he heard some scuffling, and people talking- he recognised Enji's and Dabi's voices, his brother's getting louder by the second.

"I'll check who's there. Stay."

Stay? You would've rolled your eyes if, you know, you still had them.

A few more minutes passed and you could hear Dabi arguing with someone, and you think that Shotou is trying to calm him down. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, you got up from the bed. For the past whole month, Shotou would come to wake you up everyday, carrying you in his arms to the bathroom, never letting you walk on your own, claiming "you'll get hurt".

Idiot.

Taking one small step at a time, you stretched your arms out trying to reach the wall. Once you felt the cold, smooth surface, you used it to guide you towards the door.

No matter what you did, or how many times you told them to back off, that you can do this on your own, they wouldn't let you. Hell, you were pretty sure that if they could, they would breathe for you too. As if trying to instil in your mind that you're helpless without them, incapable of making your own decisions.

I'll show them how fucking capable I am.

After stubbing your toe only once, you finally reached the door, your hand gripping the metal knob. You placed your ear on the door, trying to figure out who and where everyone is standing. The corridor seemed empty and you think everyone is downstairs.

Opening the door, you used another wall to guide you towards the stairs. You hoped Shotou doesn't see you; he'd throw a hissy fit at you attempting to walk down the stairs.

As you took one careful step at a time, you heard the commotion grow louder. You could hear Dabi yelling profanities at the other person, certainly not Enji because Rei or Fuyumi would've stepped in by now to stop him. You used to stop him too, but ever since what happened, you don't really care anymore.

"Why the fuck are you even here?! She doesn't fucking want to see you!"

"Dabi-!"

"And who is gonna stop me? You? I'd be happy to knock you down on your ass- its about goddamn time!"

"Hawks!"

Hawks?

Hawks.

Hawks!

You almost stumbled down the last few steps, but you needed to know- was he, was he really here?

"K-Keigo?"

You heard his wings flap before you felt him, the wind gushed at your body strongly, making you lose your balance. But muscular arms wrapped around you before you could fall, and the winged hero lifted you up and spun you around, making you burst into laughter.

Rei was the first one to cry.

You laughed.

Not a bitter, sarcastic one.

A genuinely happy laugh.

And she missed her baby's laugh so much.

Dabi's eyes widened slightly. His heart clenching up a bit as he realised how he missed that beaming look on your face. He realised how fucking naive you were, how you were his little sister that he needed to protect.

Shotou felt envy. Why- why didn't you laugh like that with him? Why didn't you laugh for him? Was he... not a good brother?

Fuyumi actually rushed out of the kitchen when she heard you, her hands coming up to her mouth to suppress the sob that was building up. Too long. It had been too long since you were happy.

Natsuo smiled. He smiled as he saw you chortle when the hero's feathers tickled your cheek. He wished you would smile more often.

Enji's breath hitched as he saw you chuckle into Hawk's shoulder. It was so natural, so lively, so radiant. He had been dying to hear that sweet sound again.

Your heart was beating fast and your stomach was doing somersaults as you felt the air rushing through your hair and cooling on to your neck, the soft feathers brushing across your skin.

He really was here.

But so were they.

And you could feel their eyes on you.

Keigo frowned when he saw you curl yourself into him, as if trying to bury yourself into his chest. When he looked around, he saw them glaring and that's when he puffed out his wings before curling them around you; shielding you.

"I'll be spending time with my goddaughter. Do not disturb us." And with that, Hawks flew you up to your room, locking the door before they could sat anything. He could hear Dabi arguing, but he trusted Enji to handle him.

He set you on your bed, chuckling as you didn't let go of his collar.

"Its okay, dove. I'm here, now- ow!" You cut him off by punching his arm.

"Where were you?!"

"In your heart- ow! Stop hitting me!" He caught your wrists.

"You said you were gonna visit me at home! Its been a whole month-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry but believe me, I really was busy!" Sighing, he continued. "The hero commission sent me to Europe for a mission and things got a bit messy, so I got caught up."

Yanking your hands out of his grip, you scowled. "Would it have killed you to call?"

"I mean I wouldn't say kill, but I probably could've lost a limb or two-" He started laughing when when you began getting up to walk to the door.

Keigo wrapped his arms around you, smiling cheekily"Y/n- I'm sorry, I'm just kidding. Come back-"

"No, let go! I don't have time for your bullshit" He continued laughing, easily picking you up and dropping you back on your bed.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Come on, now. Stop being mad." You heard him shuffling. "Besides, I've got something for you!"

He dropped something in your lap. You picked an item, your hands feeling around it, trying to figure out what the rectangular shaped box was.

"Whats this?"

"Oh, here. Let me help you." He lifted the lid of the box and you were immediately hit by a familiar smell.

"Chocolate?"

He hummed in confirmation"Your favourite ones too! They were always sold out! Luckily, I was able to use my charm on the owner."

"Charm? Oh, you mean where you pull that ugly smirk and do that half lidded look with your eyes, and you think that you look hot but you actually just look creepy?"

"Yeah- hey!"

And then the next 3 hours were spent like that, Hawks telling you about Europe and the bad guys he caught, you telling him about the way your family had been treating you.

"They don't let me do anything, they don't give me any privacy! Its like- its like they want me to be a doll!" You gave an exasperated sigh. "They- they act like they are being so generous. Like it was somehow my fault that my eyes got fried!"

"Oh come on. They can't be that bad-"

"They are! So much worse than before. Look, I'm a grown up- I need my space too! You know what Shotou said when I asked him to get me a walking stick? He said I don't need one since he can carry me everywhere. Do you know how embarrassing it is to get carried to the toilet every single day? Do you?!"

"Well, no-"

"And then Fuyumi cuts up my food and spoon feeds me herself! I know I'm blind but its not like I'm gonna stuff the food up my nose or something!"

The hero snickered at that.

"And then Enji reads me these novels or the newspaper and he skips over the parts he thinks I'm too "young" or "immature" to understand! They even monitor what I listen to! Fuyumi or Shotou would be quick to change the channel if something above pg 10 comes on!" You ran a hand through your hair frustratedly. "I asked Enji to get me a Braille and the first few time he pretended like he didn't hear me, before finally saying that I don't need one!"

"Don't worry, I'll sneak in a Braille for dummies the next time I visit."

"Hey-! Wait... what do you mean "next time"?"

"Oh come on! I promise I'll come earlier next time. Maybe in like 2 weeks-"

"No."

"What-"

"No. I want to leave this place today. You promised."

"Y/n-"Keigo reached to place a hand on your shoulder but you pushed him off.

"You. Promised. You said you'll get me out of here when I leave the hospital" You inhaled deeply. "Well, guess what, Hawks? Its been a whole month."

"I know but you're not well enough-"

"I AM! If anything, staying here is harming me more!" Your tone was getting angrier. "You said- you said you would take me away from them."

"I can't do it right now. The hero commission needs me-"

"I need you! Or am I just not worth your time?"

"Please, dove- try to understand. How will I take care of you if I'm out at the agency?"He tried to pet your head but you smacked his hand away, snarling at him.

"You're a liar. A big fucking liar! Was this the plan all along? To give me hope that you'll save me, only to fucking crush it?!" The hero managed to dodge the box of chocolates you threw at him. "I don't need fucking chocolate or your stupid presents. I need to get out of this goddamn house!"

The hero began walking towards the door. "You're not thinking rationally- I'll- I'll leave." But before the hero could manage to take another step, you were leaping towards him, but since you couldn't see, you only managed to fall near his feet. When he grabbed your shoulders to help you up, you were quick to latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly.

"No- no! Don't go. Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Please, don't be mad. I swear I'll behave, just don't leave me here!" Your hold onto him was becoming painfully tight.

Keigo felt like someone was breaking his heart piece by piece as he looked at you. The way your body shook from your pitiful sobs, the way you held onto his jacket as if your life depended on it- he was forced to remember how vulnerable you looked the night he brought you back to the this house. The same night when you begged and begged him to fly you away, that you'll do anything as long as he didn't dropped you back at the Todoroki estate.

"Y/n- darling, love, listen to me. I promised you that I'll keep you save, didn't I? I promise I'll come back soon-"

"YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT SHE'S DONE TO ME! SHE BURNED MY FUCKING EYES HAWKS! I'M FUCKING BLIND! DO I NEED TO LOSE A LIMB FOR YOU TO GET ME OUT OF HERE?! DO I HAVE TO SUFFER FROM ANOTHER "ACCIDENT"?!"

Hawks knew that bitch Rei did this on purpose, he knew and it killed him that he couldn't save you from her. He wanted to tell you that he believed you, and he was preparing a place for you. But the hero knows your siblings were eavesdropping, right on the other side of the door.

He had to be careful and play the fool if he wanted to get you out of this hell hole.

"Y/n please-"

You shook your head repeatedly, pulling him closer to you as you shrieked at him. "No. NO! I wont let you go! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE WITHOUT ME! Keigo, I'm begging you! Take me with you, please! I'll die! I'll die! I'LL FUCKING DIE, KEIGO! PLEASE!"

Your loud screams had your siblings bursting through the door, obviously using a spare key. "Y/n, whats wrong-" You jumped away when they touched your shoulder, giving Hawks chance to slip away.

You instantly reached out for him, flailing your arms around to get a hold of him again. But the hero was already out the door and your siblings quickly pulled you back into their arms, shushing you, trying to calm you down.

But you were inconsolable. Thrashing around in Shotou's arms, you kept begging for Hawks to come back. "HAWKS COME BACK! LET ME GO! HAWKS, PLEASE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE!" It pained them to see you like this, so hysterical; Shotou and Fuyumi whispered sweet nothings but you payed them no mind. Natsuo knew you were going to hyperventilate soon, but he was more worried about you bursting a vessel in your head.

Thinking fast, he quickly brought up a tranquilliser- and the moment the sharp smell of the alcohol swab hit your nose, you were wrestling harder to get out Shotou's and Fuyumi's arms.

"Y/n, please calm down-"

"FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! KEIGO! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK- STOP! STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP!" You screamed louder than before when you felt her cold hands gripping your arm, holding it still so that your brother could administer the dose.

As the drug began taking effect, your thrashing slowed down before you finally slumped into Shotou's arms. The tranquilliser numbed the headache that was forming, and you felt Fuyumi use a tissue to wipe the snot and the spit off your face.

"I'll die... I'll die... And you won't be there. And I'll die..."

Hawks was in a trance like state as he watched Shotou tuck you under the covers. He wanted to use his sharp feathers to slice off that cold bitch's hand that brushed the hair out of your face, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your daunting screams rang through his ears; his chest felt like some was shoving a knife through it slowly as he played back the image of you trying to wring yourself free from their arms, one hand still reaching out for him. It took everything in him not to grab it and pull you away from those monsters, but he had to remind himself of the bigger picture.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the pyromaniac standing next to him until he spoke.

"This is all your fault."

Hawks looked at Dabi. His fault?

"You shouldn't have come here."

"She's my goddaughter-"

"Shut the fuck up." Dabi narrowed his eyes at the hero. "She's like this because you gave her false hope. Hope, that one day she'll get away from us. You and I both know that's not gonna happen." He sighed before continuing. "You call yourself a hero, but in reality, you're no better than us."

As Hawks turned to leave, not willing to let the villian get on his nerves, Dabi spoke again.

"Dont bother coming back. She won't forgive you. She'll never forget this betrayal."

Hurtful as they were, he knew the words he said were true.

Hawks was almost out the gates when he saw Enji sitting in the garden, looking at the koi pond. He should've left, should've flown away but there was something in Enji's eyes that had the winged hero walking towards him. He recognised the emotion as soon as he got close.

Sorrow.

Or was it guilt?

Perhaps a mixture of both.

"Endeavour, are you... alright?"

The number 1 hero looked away from the fish and blinked at him.

"Hawks? What are you still doing here?"

The blonde chuckled nervously. "I was just on my way out." He gazed at him. "Are you okay? You seem to be in deep thought."

Enji only stared at him. Taking his silence as the answer, Hawks turned to leave.

"Why did you come here today, Keigo?"

Keigo.

He suppressed the urge to shudder the way his name rolled off his tongue.

"She's my goddaughter too. Why? Do you think it was a bad decision to come?"

"No." Enji sighed. "I just- she hadn't laughed like that in a long time."

Hawks stood beside him. "She's still traumatised from the kitchen accident. Its understable-"

"No. She hadn't laughed like that for a long time, even before this happened." Enji's eyes moved towards the night sky. The stars were twinkling extra bright tonight. How he wished you could see it. "Before she lost her sight, she used to look out the window, her eyes searching sky." He gulped. "She was looking for you, Keigo. You- you made her happy, you make her laugh. I don't."

Hawks placed his hand on Enji's shoulder. "That's not true, Enji. You do make her happy. She loves you. She feels safe with you. She sees you as her protector."

"She does?"

He nodded. "Of course. If you want things to return to normal, you need to treat her normally too. Just- just talk to her. Sort out the issues and wash away whatever fears she has." Hawks wanted Enji to listen to you, to really listen to you and protect you from Rei. He could only hope that Enji understood what he meant.

Hawks was right, Enji realised. Whatever delusions you have of Rei wanting to hurt you on purpose, of being the "bad person", they can all be cleared up if he just talked to you. Ever since the incident, the family avoided talking to you about Rei or the events that had occurred that day.

If he just talked to you, things will return to normal. You'll become happy again.

"Thank you, Keigo."

Hawks only smiled in return. "I'll be leaving now."

"Okay. When will you visit again?"

"I'll be gone for longer now. The hero commission is sending me on another mission again."

"Oh. Safe travels, then."

As Hawks flew away, he began thinking about the house.

The house where he was going to take you to soon. He just needs to add a few finishing touches before he sets his plan in motion. The plan to rescue you, and eventually Enji, from those sadist that call themselves your family.

He will not let his dove get hurt again.

He'll save you this time.

He promises.

Thoughts?

Idk how this turned out, angst wasn't the plan initially. Guess I'll write godfather Hawks fluff for another day.

Anyways, now that this is done, I'll start working on RE 8 fic now.

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hellcaster901 · 4 years

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Never Been Better

The Mandalorian x Reader

Second part to What Now?

Summary: It’s an unspoken tension between the two of you after what happened on the Razor Crest.

Word Count: 8,454

Warning(s): SMUT!! (Again, please be safe, wrap it before you tap it, this is (again) just a fanfiction), some language, the usual smut (cream pie, oral-male receiving). Did some edits, but again, if you find something just act like you didnt see it.

A/N: I can’t stop thinking about this man, Pedro Pascal has my heart and so does the Mandalorian. I want to give a shout out to my best friend @13dead-ends we’ve been on the phone for hours for the past couple nights just writing and figuring things out. She is a new author to tumblr so please go get her a follow and I promise you she’s coming out with wonderful (and smutty) works! I hope you guys enjoy the second part to ‘What Now?’!!!!

Masterlist

What Now? (Pt 1) Say Something (Pt 3)

“Are you sure it’s okay to be here?” You hum, watching as Mando lowered the ship onto the planet, the land becoming bigger as he grew closer to the land.

“Its outer rim. Aprliria doesn’t exactly hold a lot of criminals.”

With a slight jolt, Mando landed the ship, your eyes staring at the vast land of green grass and tall trees. For a while now, it’s been jumping from planet to planet looking for the Child’s kind, but with each planet, it left us more and more confused about if we were even on the right track. There was hardly anyone who knew what kind of creature the Child was, much less knew what planet would hold such a creature. Even if you knew where this planet was, you weren’t too sure Mando would even go. He’s grown fond of the child, the child himself looking at Mando as it’s father. The two of them had a bond that nothing could break, the Child was a part of Mando’s life, and leaving him was something the Mandalorian wasn’t sure he could do.

You watched silently as Mando’s hands glided along the dashboard, landing the ship perfectly. The Child watched with wide eyes from his crib as he waited for the next movement.

“Sweet thing.” You smiled, reaching for the greenling. He cooed at you as you picked him up, standing from the seat and resting the Child on your hip. “Are you ready to look around?” You whispered to him. He only let out a small squeal, answering your question. You only giggled, watching out of the corner of your eye as Mando turned in his chair, facing the two of you. “How long are we going to stay here?”

“As long as we need.” He answered, standing from his seat, the Child stared up at him, his hands reaching for him. Mando reached up, both of you watching as the Child wrapped his small hand around one of the Mandalorian’s fingers. You watched with a small smile, looking up at Mando, he tilted his helmet towards you, his eyes connecting with yours.

It always felt like the air was ripped from his lungs when he looked into your eyes. Or at least hoped that he was. The way your eyes shined in the light, how wide and full of life they were. Ever since that night of passion, things were definitely different. Both Mando and you knew that things couldn’t go back to how they were, neither of you wanted that, but it was hard to label what’s between you two when the two of you didn’t even know what to call your ‘relationship’. It was unspoken what was going on, but a few things have changed. Longer glances at one another, small touches that lit both of your bodies on fire, and nights that the two of you shared together.

It started to become a routine, the way Mando would lay awake in the middle of the night and hear you shuffle into his room, crawling into his bed and making yourself comfortable. At first it was he’d wake up to you sleeping by his side, curdled next to him with the blanket over your face, respecting Mando’s creed. When you’d wake up, he’d already be working on the ship, neither of you speaking about the previous night. What turned into once in a while, turned into every other night which turned to every night that you’d shuffle into his room, curling beside him and falling asleep. He didn’t mind, in all actuality, that’s what he waited for each night, to hear you shuffle into his room, your bare feet cautiously slapping against the metal of the ship looking for the cot and it dipping from your weight as you made yourself comfortable next to him. Mando was sure to keep his helmet on, not wanting to break his creed, but each time the room was pitch black, sheltering him from your gaze, and each morning he was gone before you were awake. You noticed the helmet, wondering if you should say anything about this unspoken routine, if it was too uncomfortable, but you figured if it was something Mando didn’t want, he would’ve said something by now. As the nights went on of you sleeping with him, you began to notice that he no longer wore his helmet to bed (as you stubbed your toes on it one night) trusting that you wouldn’t look.

You weren’t sure why you started going to sleep with him. One night you were up, your body refusing to go to sleep, your mind too active. Thoughts of the child and Mando filling your head, and no matter how hard you tried, sleeping wasn’t an option. The decision to go to Mando was a difficult one, you weren’t sure if he was gonna tell you to go back to your own cot, or blow up at you, or what. It was a chance you were honestly willing to take. That night that you tiptoed to his room, you noticed he kept his room dark, hiding his identity from anyone or anything that could come and see him. You slipped into his bed, pulling the blanket over your head and like a light switch, you were out. After that night, neither of you spoke about it, leaving it almost like a secret between the two of you. A secret from who? No idea, but it was a secret you were excited to have.

Mando couldn’t help himself when he reached for you, his gloved hand cupping your cheek. He watched as your eyes widened, your lips parted as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, taking in your beauty. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling for you, it was a strong feeling he hasn’t felt for a long time, something that made him nervous. Nothing really made him nervous anymore, and the fact that you made him feel like that scared him.

“We should find some lounging.” Mando spoke up, pulling his hand from your face, the warmth leaving with him as your cheek grew cold. With a swift nod, you turned from him, grabbing the small messenger bag and nestling the Child inside, looping it over your shoulder.

The walk towards the small town was filled with silence, Mando keeping an eye and ear out for danger, if that was even possible on this planet, but also trying to rack through his own thoughts. You on the other hand, it was clear that something was on your mind, and that something was the man covered in beskar armour that made you feel boneless little less than a month ago. It was hard not to think about that time against the cold metal, the way he grabbed you, felt inside you, everything about that time was branded in your memory, and it was something that you couldn’t forget. What you couldn’t forget the most was that he took his helmet off, for you. Even if you had to keep your eyes shut, the action itself was enough to make your heart swell with the possibility that there was something more there than sexual feelings. Of course there was, he wouldn’t be letting you crawl into his bed every night or leave the small touches like he did just a few moments ago. It was the matter of talking about what this was, that scared you, and him even.

Things definitely changed, that was undeniable, it was the fact that you had to address it that made it difficult.

In a short period of time the three of you made it to the small town, it being more active than the past towns you’ve been to. People walking through the crowds of people to shops, other folks just sitting at the tables enjoying the sunlight. It was a town that was very much alive. The people wore bright colored clothes, all enjoying one another’s company. They must’ve been new to visitors as they stared the two of you down. But no one made a move to figure out where you came from, they kept their distance.

You reached down for the little flap on the bag, lifting it and seeing the Child staring back up at you. “Whatcha doing?” You giggled, reaching in and tickling his chest. He only cooed, wiggling in the bag. “Okay.” You laughed, stopping in your tracks and reaching in. “Keep within my eyesight.” You mumbled, setting him down onto the gravel. He cooed loudly, wobbling towards Mando. You followed close behind, watching as the Child caught up to Mando, his small hand wrapping grabbing onto the dark cape. An amused smile grew on your face as you watched Mando turn around, his neck bending to see the Child staring up at him, his small green hands grabbing onto his leg. “Rather have you hold him than me.” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest. Mando glanced at you for a moment before reaching down and grabbing the Child, lifting him into his arms.

“Lets go.” He huffed. On the inside you knew that he loved this, the bond he had with this creature, he was just too tough to be open about it. With a smile, you followed, watching as the Child was staring at everyone and everything, taking in the life. Shortly you got to the small lounging, watching as Mando handed the Child back to you, heading up to talk to the owner for a room. You stood a few feet away, looking out at the crowd of people that were starting to gather further down the main street. You watched with a curious look, hearing Mando talk to the woman, trying to negotiate on a price for the room. Always trying to talk down the price. With a huff, Mando paid for the room, leaving the woman at the counter with a scowl on her face.

“Hey,” You softly spoke, glancing over at the woman. “What’s exactly going on here?” She sighed, leaning forward and staring down at the crowd of people.

“A festival, it's the beginning of the new season, it’s something to celebrate.” You nodded, listening to the woman. “It’s mostly a festival to be grateful for life.”

“That’s fun.” You smiled, looking back at the woman, she wasn’t smiling, just staring at you with a scowl. The smile fell from your face, wondering what Mando said to the woman to make her so mad. “Have a great one.” You hurried, looking forward, seeing Mando waiting. With a sheepish smile you caught up, following as he guided you towards the lounging.

He swung the door open, revealing two makeshift cots, and a window at the back of the room. It wasn’t the best option, but it was obviously better than what you had going on back on the ship. Mando didn’t say a word as he stepped inside, looking around. With a sigh, you set down the Child, watching as he waddled inside, making himself at home instantly as he explored the small room. You stepped in, closing the door behind you choosing the cot furthest away from the door, sitting down and watching the Child happily make his way around the room.

“Did you hear what that woman said about what's going on?” you started, questioning yourself as to why you even started talking. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mando walk over to the window, glancing out. His helmet tilting slightly towards you, a sign that he was listening. “It’s apparently a festival for the new season that's coming for the people.” You explained, turning and facing the bounty hunter. “A festival to be grateful for life as well.” You smiled, watching as he looked at you. It was hard to see what he was thinking about, hard to know what he looked like as he stared at you. You tried to pick up on any gestures he would do, hoping it would help you figure out what he was going through but sometimes you were still as confused as you were before.

He said nothing, only crossed the room and sat on his cot, beginning to mess with his beskar. You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering if you should talk again or just leave it be and let him do what he needs to do.

“Would you like to walk around and see?” The modulated voice rung. You were honestly shocked that he said something, much less asking if you wanted to see what was going on. You thought if anything he’d want to stay low, leaving for dinner on the first day and seeing if this planet really is as safe as he thought it was.

“Can we?” You whispered, patiently waiting like a child as he thought things over. He turned his heads towards you, his eyes looking over your excited form, the smile on your face as you thought about the festival. At that moment, he realized he could never say no to you.

***

Mando stayed a distance behind, watching as you walked through the crowds of people, The Child in the bag that hung on your hip, the flap open for him to sit and watch without trying to keep up with the two of you. He kept a close eye on the two of you, nothing else catching his eye as the three of you walked, wanting to make sure nothing happened to the two of you. He watched as you watched the people celebrate, your eyes gleaming as you saw the people dancing to the music he was sure you’ve never heard of. The face of pure curiosity on your face was enough to make his heart tug.

Things were different, he didn’t talk about things because he wasn’t sure how to explain himself. That night, with you changed everything to him. He knew there was something there, there always was. The way he would catch you staring at him, or the way his heart would pick up as he got closer to the Razor’s Crest after he would catch a bounty. It was subtle things that he knew the both of you would pick up on, and that night changed it all. He cleared his throat, trying to steer his mind away from imagining that night once again. It was something he couldn’t stop thinking about. The way you gave yourself to him, the way you felt around him, he needs more.

He had to control himself.

The festival, the colors, the music and the people were all new to you. It was something unlike anything you’ve ever seen before in your life. It was a bit overwhelming. You looked down at the Child, watching as his wide eyes were staring at everything as well. You were sure the two of you looked alike, a pure look of excitement at the new things. You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes instantly landing on Mando as he followed close. You wondered if he was enjoying this just as much as you were. But you were sure he’s seen things like this all the time. You weren’t exactly too sure, he never spoke of past travels. He really never spoke to you about anything. Shaking your head, you tried to focus back on the festivities that were going on. Most of it was just dancing, the people enjoying the music and moving.

You gasped softly as you felt a small hand wrap around your wrist, tugging softly. Glancing down, you noticed a small child staring up at you, wide eyes, a smile on her face and sweat on her forehead. Her eyes kept flickering back and forth from you to the child quickly. I chuckled softly, crouching down, grabbing the Child in the bag and lifting him. “You can say ‘hi’.” I smiled, watching as her eyes got even wider. The Child cooed, lifting his hands to her, his little green fingers tickling her face. She giggled loudly, her hands going in excitement as she watched the Child. He cooed loudly, his arms going as he saw her own happiness. She calmed a bit, reaching into her pocket and pulling a beaded necklace. You smiled softly as you watched her look up at you, asking for silent permission. You nodded, watching as she lifted the beads up, the small string landing around his neck. Her smile grew, looking up at me with happy eyes. She reached back into her own pocket, pulling another string of beads out. She held it out to you, a wide smile on her face. With a smile, you ducked down, feeling the beads glide against your hair, and settling around your neck. You leaned back up, reaching and pulling your hair from under, the cool beads settling on the back of your neck. You looked over at Mando, smiling widely at him. Again, nothing.

As you walked around and looked at everything the day slowly turned to night, the people of the planet were still going strong and dancing almost like they haven’t been dancing for the whole day. As the day went on, you noticed people were setting up strings of lights or torches for the people to still see as it got darker, lighting up the festivities. Mando was getting closer and closer as it was getting darker, keeping close as we walked.

“He’s asleep.”

Your head whips around, looking up at Mando as he looks straight ahead. “What?” You watched as he looked at you, before glancing down at the bag. You looked down, a soft ‘awe’ leaving your lips. The Child was fast asleep, the necklace the little girl gave her held tightly in his hands. “I think we should get back.” You whispered, looking up at him. With a swift nod he turned, leading the way back. You followed, reaching a hand down to the Child, his arms stretching out, before holding onto your hand.

You kept close to Mando, watching the way even as the people were enjoying their time, they were still moving out of the way for the bounty hunter.

“I’m sorry I dragged you around all over this planet.” You spoke, glancing up at Mando. “I wanted to see what a festival was really like.” He nodded, still keeping his pace as the two of you walked back to the room. There was a tense silence between the two of you, an unspoken ‘thing’. And both of you knew what that was.

Once back to the room, Mando quickly turned his back to you, working quietly on his beskar once again. You sighed softly, closing the door and walking over to your own cot. You softly pulled the Child out from the bag, his limp body heavier than you realized. You looked around the room, wondering if there was anything you could make a little cot with, but the blankets and items were things that the Mando and you would be using. With a heavy sigh, you gently laid the Child onto your cot, his little head sinking into the pillow. You chuckled softly as you grabbed the blanket and pulled it up, making a wall out of the blanket for him to stay in. You curled up besides the Child, resting your head on your arm as you looked over the strange creatures’ features. In a few short moments, the tiredness of walking around the festival soon encased you, leaving your eyes heavy as you fell asleep next to the child.

As it grew darker, and as you soon were asleep next to the Child, Mando found this the perfect time to take off his beskar. He knew he could trust you as he removed his helmet, setting it down besides him on the cot, removing the weight of his armour until he was in his pants and shirt. He slowly leaned back, the weight of the day present as his back strained from being in constant movement, his back popping in places that made him groan as he laid there.

He heard the small snoring coming from you, turning his head and noticing the outline of your body in the dark, the way he wanted to feel the dips and curves of your body as you laid on your side. His mind was racing from remembering what you felt like under his hands that night, how soft you were, the way you gave yourself up to him. He only stares, thinking about you. The way you took care of the child, the way you took care of him. He wasn’t used to having someone there who really wanted to be there. It’s always been only him, and the fact that these two came into his life was… overwhelming, but not unwanted. He was content with watching over the two of you, knowing you both needed the sleep from the excitement today. Mando rarely needed the full 8 hours of sleep, needing only a couple hours to feel energized. But he wasn’t complaining, he was able to watch you and the Child.

He laid there, letting his mind race from what he was going to do about the Child, if finding it’s kind was the right choice. Of course it was, to keep him if they do find his people would be a selfish choice, but he wasn’t sure if that’s what he could do.

His breath hitched lightly as he saw your body move, groaning as you twisted your body around, your back now facing Mando. He froze, knowing the room was dark enough that you couldn’t see his face, but he was more worried about her waking up and noticing Mando watching her. He only watched as you groggily sat up, a hand coming out to rub at your eyes as you adjusted to waking up. You looked over at the child, fixing the blanket that was disheveled from his movement and then stood up. Mando watched as you moved, standing from the bed, arching your back as you stretched, moaning softly as your own back popped.

The soft moans had chills running down Mando’s back, hearing them once again was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear again. He noticed the way you glanced over at him, looking at his legs rather than his upper half. He noticed the way you kept his creed, even when you thought he was asleep. He watched as you walked towards the window, moving the curtains out of the way, looking at the crowds of people still celebrating.

“How long have I been asleep?” You whispered to yourself, still standing there as you watched the people.

“Only a couple hours.” You froze in your spot, the unfiltered voice responding to your question. You instantly lifted a hand to your eyes, the curtain slipping from your hand, as you backed away from the light.

“I’m so sorry Mando, I didn’t realize you didn’t have your-”

“It’s fine.” He spoke, watching the way you still covered your eyes, your back to him. He felt his lips turn into a smile, watching the way you just stood there, trying to figure out what to do without seeing him. “It’s dark enough.” He spoke again, watching the way you still stood there, covering your eyes until you slowly let your hand drop. He watched as the light from outside bled through the thin curtain and onto your face, highlighting every detail on your face, and he knew that you were the most beautiful person he has ever seen in his whole life.

“I don’t want you to break your creed, Mando.” You spoke softly, eyes still shut.

“I won’t.” He spoke softly, wondering at that moment if breaking his creed for you was a bad thing. But you kept your eyes shut, not trusting that the room was dark enough. You heard the cot shift, hearing Mando’s footsteps coming closer and closer. You tensed, not bothering to take another breath as you heard him get closer and closer. “You won't break it.” He whispered, grabbing onto your wrist lightly. You let him guide you away from the window, the light that was once shining on your face soon fading until there was only darkness. You couldn't stop the chills that ran down your back as you felt Mando’s thumb softly rub against the inside of your wrist as he guided you. It was such a small act, but there was so much intimacy behind it. At least, for you.

“I don’t want to open my eyes.” You whispered to him, letting out a breath you were holding the whole time.

“You don’t want to see me?” You could hear the teasing tone and the smile on his face, something you were grateful to hear without the helmet blocking his voice.

“Of course I do.” You whispered again, trying not to wake the child up. “But I can’t lose your trust.” There was a bit of silence, your words lingering in the air as you waited for Mando to say something. You waited for his voice, only hearing the soft noises coming from the Child as he slept and the people that were still celebrating. “Look,” you stared, letting your mind run a mile a minute, the anxiety of everything between the two of you rushing out, “I’m sorry if I did anything that you didn’t like or if any of this wasn’t what you-”

You gasped loudly as you felt Mando wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you roughly against his chest. In a swift move, he turned the both of you around, your back landing softly on the cot, Mando holding himself up above you, your hands against his chest as the two of you laid like that for a moment, the world stopping around you as you tried to control what was going on.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispered to you, his hand pushing away some hair that fell over your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. To say you forgot how to breath was an understatement, you were sure that you had died and that this was simply heaven for you. His fingers slowly trailed down your jaw, tracing the curve as the roughness of his fingers left goosebumps down your arms. He saw the way his touch made you react, and it only made him want to see more of it, forgetting how addictive it was to see you in this state. His fingers moved lower, trailing down your neck, his fingers outlining the edge of the shirt you wore. “You never could.” He whispered lowly. It was low enough that you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself, either way, it was enough to make a light blush appear on your face and chest.

You kept your eyes shut, basking in the feeling of his fingers as he softly touched your neck and face. You listen to his breathing as he took his time tracing your features, taking in the feeling of his fingers as the two of you laid there. “Mando.” You whispered, feeling his fingers still for a moment until they continued their journey. He slowly trailed them to your lips, his calloused fingers tracing over them. You could feel his eyes as he followed his own fingers. “Mando.” You whispered again. “Kiss me.” Within a second, there was no turning back.

He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you up to him as you felt his lips crash against yours, his facial hair scratching against your skin as your lips moved together. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, pulling him even closer (if that was possible), wanting to feel his entire weight on you as you tasted him. His other hand caressed your side, his fingers digging softly into your hip before he grabbed the back of your knee, lifting it up and over his hip as he settled himself between your thighs. You gasped against his lips as you felt his bulge rub against your clothed center, the noise you made only spurring Mando on even more. He pulled away, his lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath, watching the way your own chest was heaving, the soft, sweet noises leaving your lips as he stayed above you. You felt his hands grab at your waist, his hands slowly pushing the flimsy shirt you wore up, exposing the skin he’s already seen. He watched the way your chest rose and fell a bit quicker, the way you gradually sounded more and more out of breath from just his small touches. As he got to your breasts he stopped, the shirt bunched up, your stomach exposed to him, his hands resting on your rib cage. It felt like an eternity as you both waited for the next move. “Please, Mando.” You begged softly, wanting more and more each second. He couldn’t refuse. He yanked the shirt off of you, your hair spiraling around you as he pulled the shirt off. You grabbed his hands, impatient with how slow he was taking things and guided his hands to your boobs, his hands greedily grabbing, a low moan coming from Mando as he felt the soft skin.

He was rough as he pulled down the cups of your bra, his head ducking instantly as he latched onto a nipple, his tongue flicking against the hardened skin. You moaned softly, arching your back, Mando’s arm wrapping around you a bit tighter, pulling you even closer to his mouth. You clawed at his back, gathering at his shirt, pulling it to his shoulders. “Take it off.” You mewed, feeling Mando pull away from you. Mando tugged the shirt over his head, tossing it across the room. He notices the way you didn’t react, your hands laying still on his hips. You still had your eyes closed. He hovered above you, resting his weight on his forearms as he softly pressed his lips against yours.

“Open your eyes.” He whispered against your lips, peppering kisses along your cheeks and chin.

“Your creed.” You whispered back, feeling the way his facial hair scratched your skin. “I don’t want to-”

“Open your eyes.” He repeated, his tone a bit more stern this time. You took a deep breath, your eyes fluttering open. You were surprised with how dark it actually was in the room. You couldn’t see his facial features, but you could see the outline of his body above you. You reached for him, your hands caressing up his arms to his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex slightly, the healed skin from previous wounds brushing against your hand. He let you touch him, his own breathing quickening as you moved your hands down his chest. Unlike last time, you wanted to take a bit more time. You shoved against his shoulder, rolling the two of you over, straddling his hips as he let out a huff as he settled against the cot. He grabbed onto your hips as you settled yourself on top of him, his fingers digging softly into your skin.

The two of you didn’t say anything as you planted your hands on his chest, letting your hands roam around searching for scars. You felt his chest rise quickly as you started roaming, feeling the slight chest hair that was scattered along his skin. With it being so dark, you went with your touch, finding the scars and tracing a finger along them, wondering how he got each one. As you continue your travel, you touch one particular long scar, that starts near his hip bone, and ends at mid torso. You fixated on this scar, your fingers tracing over it over and over again. “How did you get this one?” You asked, feeling the new skin that grew. You felt Mando sigh, his hands moving down to your thighs, before moving back up to your hips.

“Bounty got a bit carried away when I located him.” He answered. You didn’t think you could ever get used to his voice without the helmet, the sound alone making you weak above him. You took a deep breath, leaning down peppering soft kisses along his chest, softly licking along the scars that you met along the way as you traveled down his chest. You heard the small gasps leaving his mouth as you got lower and lower, straddling his legs as you kissed along the longer scar, feeling his hands push back some of your hair that fell forward. You kissed along the band of his pants, feeling him twitch against the fabric as you edged closer to the edge, teasing him. You licked a strip from his hip bone to his stomach, Mando moaning as the air hit it, sending goosebumps up his body.

“Y/N.” He warned, feeling your lips turn up in a smile against his stomach, your fingers dancing along the waistband of his pants. You hooked your fingers along the band, tugging softly. Mando quickly got the hint, lifting his hips as you tugged the pants harshly down, his erection slapping against his stomach, a bead of precum slowly leaking from the tip. You fumbled for a moment as you pulled his clothing off, tossing them on the floor before you seated yourself between his legs. “You don’t-”

“Shh.” You whispered, smiling to yourself softly. You nervously pressed your hands against his thighs, feeling more scars as you moved them up, feeling the way he flexed against your touch. You noticed the way you felt the blanket on the cot shifted, his hands bunching at the blanket as you moved closer and closer to your target. You wrapped a hand around his length, Mando grunting as you squeezed your hand around him, the velvety skin feeling foreign but not unwelcome as you moved your hand up. Mando was obviously a bit larger than what you expected, even with sleeping with him the first time, it was still a surprise with how large he felt in your hand, the girth of him making you nervous. “You’re so big.” you whispered to yourself, a smile on your face when you heard Mando moan softly at your words. You leaned forward, giving his length an experimental lick.

Mando gasped loudly, his hips rising as you pulled away. You smiled, his reaction only wanting you to hear more from him. You made yourself comfortable between his legs, leaning forward again and sucking the tip between your lips. He grunted as he felt the warmth of your mouth, his hands clenching onto the blanket a bit tighter as he felt your tongue flick at the tip. You moaned softly, tasting the precum that coated your tongue, the salty taste making you clench around nothing. You were positive that you were soaked, squeezing your thighs together as you slowly took more and more of Mando’s cock in your mouth.

Mando was on the brink of exploding. All he wanted as to grab the back of your head and fuck your throat. As rough as it sounded, that’s all he wanted was to hear you gag around him, and to feel your throat tighten around him. But he stopped himself, grabbing at the blanket under him, focusing on the feeling of your mouth around him. He watched as you slowly started bobbing your head, feeling you take more into your mouth, the tip of his cock lightly hitting the back of your throat. He bucked softly at the sensation, making you gag around him. He growled loudly, the sound sending chills right down his back.

To your surprise, you liked it.

You pulled back with a loud gasp, twisting your hand around his cock, spreading your spit around him, the wet sound adding to the soft pants that filled the room. Mando’s length twitched in your hand, his hips bucking as you stroked him, your thumb brushing along his tip, watching the way he gasped. You brushed some hair back over your shoulder, leaning back down and sliding his cock back in your mouth. “Fuck.” Mando cursed, his hand flying to the back of your head, his hand grabbing at your hair as you gagged around him, moaning softly as he tugged on your hair. Your scalp stung as he tugged on the strands, his hand gathering your hair to a makeshift pony. “Feels so good.” he rasped, the sound shooting straight to your core. You wanted to hear these sounds coming from him for the rest of your life. Seeing him like this, on his back and so vulnerable to you, made you want to be on your knees for him whenever he wanted. You bobbed your head a little faster, wrapping your hand around what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. “Maker.” He growled, his body tensing beneath you. “Stop. Stop.” He rasped, pushing gently at your shoulders, his cock slipping from your lips, a string of saliva trailing behind as you took a deep breath in, licking your swollen lips.

“Did I-” You barely got a sentence out before Mando pushed himself up, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you with a passion that made your whole body weak. Mando didn't say a word as he reached behind you, unhooking the flimsy material and tossing it across the room, grabbing your hips and tugging you on top of him, your breast pressed tightly against his chest. He pawed at your thighs, his short fingernails scratching against the tight material as he pulled you impossibly close to him. You gasped as you felt his length rub against your clothed center, trapping his throbbing length between your bodies. He held you against him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hands weaving into his thick hair, kissing him with a passion that only he was able to pull from you.

“I wanna feel you when I cum.” He whispered against your lips, dragging his lips against your cheek as he left open mouth kisses along your jaw, peppering them down to your neck. You moaned at his words, nodding softly. He tightened his hold on you, wanting you impossibly close. You gave your hips an experimental roll, gasping softly as you felt his length rub against you. Mando growled against your neck, his fingers digging roughly into your thighs. You were positive that you were going to end up with small bruises scattered along your hips and thighs and you were more than excited to be seeing them later on. Mandos' hands became frantic, grabbing at the thin material around your legs and hips, tugging on the waistband and pulling harshly. “Take them off.” He growled into your neck, his teeth digging into the skin. You pulled yourself off of him, pushing your hair back and tugging at the pants.

He could see the outline of your body as you moved quickly, shimming the material down your legs as you stepped out of them. Mando was impatient as he reached for you, a hand on your hip and the other on your thigh, sitting you right back onto his lap, his lips finding yours in the dark. “I’ve thought about you.” He whispered, his hands caressing your back, feeling every single inch of skin that was exposed to him. “Every night.”

You could’ve died hearing those words leave his mouth.

“I have to.” You confessed, fingers digging into his tensed shoulders as he peppered kisses along your chest and neck.

“I’ve wanted you every single night.” He continued, sucking harshly at the top of your breast, for sure leaving a bruising. You’d let him mark you how ever he wanted, as long as it was him. “You’re so soft.”

“Mando, please.” You begged, rolling your hips once again, feeling his cock drag between your folds. He grunted into your chest, feeling your wetness coat his cock. He trusted against you, the tip bumping your clit making you jolt in his arms. “I need you.”

“Say it again.” He growled, weaving his hand into your hair, grabbing a fist full and keeping you still. “Beg.” You realized that Mando was a very dominant person, someone who took what they wanted whenever they wanted, and that didn’t stop when it came to your body.

“Please.” You pleaded, your voice sounding forgien to your own ears. “I want you in me.” You didn’t care if you sounded pathetic, you were desperate to feel him again. “I need you. Please.”

“You have no idea what I would do for you, my cyar’ika.” He whispered into your ear, lifting you against him. You moaned as you felt him reach for his cock from around you, rubbing the tip between your folds, smearing his precum and your juices around. He lined his cock to your entrance, holding you above him. “Do you want me?” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes.” You nodded frantically, “Always.” That was the correct answer for Mando as he pulled you down, his cock splitting you in half. You whined, dropping your head onto his shoulder, his cock stretching you wide open. It was a bit of a tight fit, both of you were panting by the time half of him was in you. You slowly worked yourself onto him, lifting your hips softly as you sunk down on him.

“Maker.” Mando huffed, “You’re so tight.” You whined into his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as you finally sat on his thighs. His cock filling you to the brim, pulsing deep within you. Barely moving and you were already out of breath, already squirming against him as he was fully seated in you. Mando wasn’t doing any better, his hands had a bruising grip on your thighs, his breath stilled as he let you adjust to this position. You took a deep breath, lifting your hips, his cock dragging against your walls. A rush of pleasure shook your body, chills spreading over your skin as you sat back down. Mando gasped against you, his hips bucking against you as he wanted more. But he wanted you to control the pace, take it the speed you need it at. And it was killing him not to flip you around and take you the way he wanted.

You started lifting yourself on your knees, moving on top of Mando, feeling his cock become wetter and wetter with your juices as you moved. “You feel so good.” You moaned, the sound of your wetness coating him filling the sound in the room. You gained the confidence you needed, moving a little bit faster, bouncing on his cock as he plunged deep within you.

“Fuck Y/N.” Mando growled, grabbing your hips and helping you ride him, lifting you a bit more and dragging you down a bit harder than what you could do on your own. The tip of his cock nudged your g-spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You pushed at his shoulders, shoving him back onto the cot, planting your hands on his chest and lifting yourself up. Mando was sure that this sweet girl who was shy all the time wasn’t the one who was currently riding him. You were in control, riding him and taking what you wanted. He loved it.

He reached for you, grabbing the back of your head, tugging you down harshly against him, your breast pressed tightly against his chest. You squealed as he tugged you down, a hand in your hair, keeping you to him. “You’re so fucking tight around me.” He moaned, your walls clenching around him in response. It was a mess between the two of you, bouncing on top of him, both of you chasing your climaxes, wanting to feel the other. “This pussy is mine.” He growled.

“Yes.” He didn’t leave any room for you to argue, not that you wanted to, you knew that you were his, even if it took this long to screw again, you knew that you were his no matter what.

“Say it.” He huffed, spreading his legs, your own thighs spreading a bit wider, a slight burn from your muscles as he planted his feet and started thrusting up into you. You sobbed against him as his cock brutally nudged your g-spot, your body limp against him as he took control, a hand in your hair and an arm around your waist, keeping you tight to him. “Say you’re mine, sweet thing.” You weren’t even sure if you could speak as he set this brutal pace.

“I’m yours.” You cried, hiding your face in his neck, muffling your cries as he fucked you. “I’m all yours.”

“You take me so well.” He marveled, his arm tightening around your waist before flipping the two of you over. Your breath hitched as he flipped you over, the scratching material of the blanket digging into your back as he settled himself between your legs, his hands traveling down your sides and to your thighs, hooking the back of your knees and lifting them. You moaned loudly as you felt the burning stretching at the back of your thighs as he lifted your knees towards your chest, spreading you for himself. “I could fuck you all day.” He whispered to you, grabbing himself and lining up to your entrance. Your jaw was slacked as you felt him rub your clit with his tip before slamming back in, the slight pain of this new position instantly making your thighs shake. You were his for the taking, and he was taking every last bit. “Ever since that night,” He huffed, thrusting into you slowly, feeling the way you clenched around him, almost making him lose his train of thought. “I’ve thought about having you in every way possible.” You whined, listening to his words, his cock sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“Don’t stop.” you begged, feeling him slow down. “Please Mando, make me cum.” The begging really did it for him. He hovered above you, hooking your thighs over his arms as he fucked you hard. You were a mess, breathless moans, his skin slapping against yours, the wetness of your pussy was all the two of you could hear. You soon felt the familiar tightness in the pit of your stomach, your thighs beginning to shake as your climax was growing and growing. “Mando.” you cried, your walls fluttering around him as your pussy was becoming over sensitive to his movement.

“Cum around me, sweet thing.” he moaned, his own climax approaching as he felt you tighten around him. “Let me feel you.” You grabbed onto his forearms, his trusts speeding up becoming a bit more animalistic. You moaned loudly, that tightness in your stomach snapping as you came, gushing around his cock, gasping into his shoulder, whimpering at the over stimulation. “Cum inside me.” You begged. He growled into your shoulder as he felt your walls pulsating around him, his movements becoming irregular when he heard your words. He came a few thrusts after you, filling you to the brim with his cum. You gasped at the sensation, feeling Mando bite down on your shoulder, keeping his throbbing cock buried in you, giving you a few more soft thrusts.

Your walls clenched around him, feeling his cock twitch and pulse within you, both of you wordless and out of breath from the orgasms. He slowly let go of your thighs, whimpering as they instantly began feeling sore. Your whole body was sore, you knew that tomorrow you were going to be walking funny, there was no way you weren’t.

You reached up, weaving a hand into his shaggy hair, scratching at his scalp as the two of you calmed down, relishing in one another as you tried to catch your breaths.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, caressing your thigh softly. It made you smirk, remembering him asking you the same question last time.

“I’ve never been better.” You whispered back, feeling a smile growing on his face. He pulled out of you, both of you moaning softly. You blushed as you felt his and your cum leaking from you, dripping onto the bed. He seattle himself next to you, lightly shoving his arm under your head. With a smirk you made yourself comfortable, rolling over and resting your head on his chest. “Is this okay?” You whispered, feeling him slowly place his hand on your back.

“Yes.” he answered, his thumb rubbing your back softly.

***

You groaned as you felt something touching your face, caressing at your cheek as you slept. You cracked an eye open, seeing the Child standing right in front of your face, holding one of his little hands to your cheek. Once he saw your eye open he cooed loudly, a smile on his little face. “What are you doing, sweet thing?” You whispered, clenching the scratchy blanket closer to your chest. You raised an arm, poking at his little chest. You lifted yourself up onto an elbow, glancing around the room. Mando was gone, your clothes still scattered everywhere, and the Child in the cot with you. “Where did he go?” You whispered to the child, wrapping the blanket around your body and standing. You were right, you were sore, legs wobbling as you stood, the evidence of last night covering the inside of your thighs. You blushed, as you collected your clothes that were scattered everywhere.

As you grabbed your shirt, the door opened, Mando walking in with two bowls of food. You jumped lightly, seeing him standing there, in his beskar and helmet, and you, in a blanket.

“Sorry.” You chuckled, lightly, “Just woke up.” You smiled, again not sure of what facial expressions he was making under his helmet.

“I brought food.” He commented, closing the door. You were unaware how small this room was, or if it was the fact that Mando just took up so much space. “For you and the child.” He added, stepping over to the child. He greedily accepted the food, holding the small bowl in between his hands, as he sat on the cot.

“Let me get dressed.” You smiled again, shrugging a shoulder and turning. You barely took a step when you felt a gloved hand grab your wrist. You turned, Mando standing right in front of you. A word wasn’t spoken as he cupped the back of your head, leaning down and resting his helmet against your forehead. You smiled, closing your eyes and feeling the coolness against your skin.

Tag List: @hayley-the-comet

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lieblingspulli · 3 years

Text

Ginseng Tea?

w/c: 1.8k

Changbin x reader <3

Summary: You feel stressed from being unproductive and it all gets too much. Good thing you have your giant cuddly boyfriend to make you your favorite tea and comfort you!

Note: Sorry I've been away for so long! School sucks! Anyway, I finally finished this piece, it's very self indulgent so please be gentle with this one! Hope you like it and feel comforted too. <33333

Masterlist!

SKZ Masterlist

I had been working on this essay for hours. The words just wouldn't come to my head. I had tried sitting in several different places, including two different libraries on campus and my room. I had music going, a couple snacks strewn about and the lights dimmed so as to not hurt my eyes. But no matter what I did, I just couldn’t focus. My brain was straining and I just couldn’t.

I sighed and closed my laptop, resigning to just giving up and calling it a night. Even though this essay wouldn’t write itself, today was not going to bring anything productive. I looked over and the clock read 11:46 pm. I started writing at 4. With another deep sigh, I cradled my head in my hands, trying not to cry. Why couldn’t I just write a bunch of words? It’s late, I’m tired, my boyfriend is still at work, and I just can’t do anything productive because I’m lazy. Tears stung my eyes and my throat dried up with emotion.

With the house being so empty, cold, and dark, I frowned, trying to keep my tears at bay. It was just one of those days, I felt so bad that it started to make my chest heavy and my breathing hard. With one more deep breath, I stumbled over to the cold bed, flopped on top of the covers and buried my face deep into the plush comforter, hoping to just suffocate whatever feelings I had building up.

The seconds turned into minutes and all I could hear was the soft ticking of the clock and the comfortable ambience of random appliances making weird noises in the small, cramped kitchen. All the lights were off, except for the soft yellow desk lamp that illuminated my closed laptop. Peeking over, I felt as if the light were beckoning me to come back, to finish whatever sorry excuse I had come up with. I closed my eyes and listened to the fridge make ice.

The heavy feeling in my chest had lessened after a good amount of time, but the frustrating feeling of my dry throat and burning eyes made me snuggle up into the sheets. The night was quiet, not even the upstairs neighbors were doing anything tonight. It was lonely tonight. I wriggled over to my boyfriend’s side of the bed, hoping his familiar scent would put my frayed nerves at ease. Unfortunately, we had just washed the sheets so his side smelled like detergent. This was what put me over the edge.

With the stupid essay and the immense amount of heaviness in my chest, I burst into tears. Letting myself go, I curled up into a ball on the floor and just cried. I cried until I couldn’t breathe. I cried until I couldn’t produce tears. I cried until I fell asleep.

A soft click signaled the arrival of Changbin. At first, he crept inside, afraid to wake up Y/n. Unfortunately, at some point Changbin stubbed his toe on the miserable corner of the fridge, which stuck slightly out of the kitchen into the hallway. Letting out a yelp, he cradled his toe in pain. After a couple minutes, he thought to check on Y/n so he limped over to the bedroom.

Without turning on the lights, Changbin crept inside the room and set down his bag before noticing two things: a lump of blankets on the floor and the desk lamp still on. It was quiet except for the ticking of the clock, which somehow interrupted the peacefulness. Changbin felt terribly uneasy but brushed it off. Still unaware of where you could be, Changbin went into the small closet and came out with a new set of clothes, ready to go to sleep after his exhausting day. He was halfway in the process of pulling his new shirt over his head when he heard small sniffles coming from somewhere. The sound didn’t really register in his head until a thought clicked into his mind and he immediately started to search for you. Pulling the rest of his arm through his shirt sleeve, he searched the bed and the bathroom before remembering the lump of blankets on the floor.

Carefully, he peeled back the comforter sheet and found your hand sticking outwards, which he immediately slid his own hand into. Slightly concerned, he squeezed it and peeled back more until he found your puffy face pulled into a deep frown. You were still halfway asleep, but you squeezed his hand back and slightly whimpered. Changbin shook your shoulders with his free hand and whispered, “Baby? Are you okay?” He started to pull you closer to him in order to get you off the floor.

You managed to crack your eyes open and you saw a familiar figure in the blurriness of your barely-there consciousness. You squeezed them shut again and said nothing, your throat too dry to reply.

With your lack of response, Changbin definitely knew something was wrong and he let go of your hand. He wrapped you up in whatever loose corners of the blanket he could find and scooped you into his arms before slowly getting up in order to not jostle your sleeping figure. Changbin set you down on your side of the bed before calmly going to the kitchen and pouring a glass of water.

In the time that he was away, you curled back into a tight ball and tried to feel the warmth of your body heat in the blankets. The ticking of the clock suddenly sounded a lot louder than its normal volume and you buried your ears into the blanket.

Just as Changbin entered with some water and a mug of tea, you heard soft droplets of rain hit the window pane.

“I brought you your favorite tea babe. Drink some water while you wait for it to cool okay?” You felt a dip on the side of the bed and then a hand started to rub your side. You stuck out your hand and opened it, to which he gladly accepted and rubbed your hand with his thumb.

“What's wrong love?” He saw you open your eyes and they were a little red as well as a little puffy. You slowly got up and took a long sip of water. Watching you carefully, Changbin went through all the possible scenarios in his head, from failing a test all the way to losing someone. Through all of the scenarios, he just wanted to know what was making you sad. It hurt his heart to see you so unresponsive and upset.

“What tea did you make?” You managed to croak out and immediately took more sips of water.

“Jagi! Your voice! Maybe I need to go get some chamomile tea instead of the one I brought.” He chuckled and rubbed your arm. “I’m a good boyfriend though, I brought your favorite- ginseng.”

You immediately perked up and looked over to the steaming cup of ginseng tea.

“Ginseng tea? I thought we ran out.” You let go of his hand and carefully brought the mug to your lips.

“Careful, don’t burn yourself, hot stuff.” Changbin smiled at his own joke and saw you crack a smile too. Relief poured into his head and he shuffled over to cuddle your slumped figure, careful to not make you spill the hot tea.

“Thank you Binnie. It’s been such a long day.” You looked up at Changbin’s concerned face and smiled appreciatively at your clingy and loving boyfriend. He searched your eyes and grinned with a sly look on his face.

“If your teacher is giving you too much work, just tell me and I’ll go there and teach him a lesson of my own.” He sternly said and squeezed your waist. You just rolled your eyes as you took another sip and hummed in annoyance.

“Yah, y/n. You know you can tell me anything right?” Changbin’s stern face turned into puppy eyes. You set down your cup and cuddled into his side.

“I’m sorry Bin, I’m just so stressed, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Babeeee, don’t apologize. You felt bad, you have a right to have bad days.” He sternly but jokingly complained. “What matters now is making you feel better, I’m here now and that’s all we need to feel better. We just need each other.” Changbin turned to you so he could give you the biggest bear hug possible.

Surrounded by his strong and firm hug, you started to cry again.

“Let it out, jagi. I’m here now to take your pain away. Everything is okay now that we are in each other's arms.” He swallowed you into his arms and let you cry out your stress.

“I love you Binnie. You always know how to comfort me.” You sniffled out and chuckled. “Thank you for the tea.” With that you looked at him and he kissed your forehead. “Anything for my baby, even if it means making you ginseng tea every single night. I love you okay? I’ll let everyone in this city know that I do. I’ll yell it out. I’ll go, ‘Yahhhhhh, Y/n is the love of my life! You hear me? Y/n will be my wife someday! I love her every second of the day, and every day of my life!’” Changbin bravely acted out and ended up rolling on his back with you still in his arms.

With you on top of him and the both of you laughing, you suddenly kissed his lips lightly and snuggled into his neck.

“Yah, Changbin. If you say that, you now have to make me your wife!” You smiled and feather kissed his neck.

Changbin squirmed and yelled, “YAH! I’m ticklish there! Stopppp.” He pouted and started revenge kissing your forehead. This developed into a kiss fight and it ended up with the two of you rolled over with him caging you under him.

“Y/nnnnn. Don’t tease me like that.” He smirked and you smiled innocently.

“No answer? Okay, I guess I have to fight back!” And then he started to tickle your sides. You couldn’t breath by the end of it but this time it was a breathless laughter.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. As long as you keep making me tea, I’m a happy girlfriend.” Changbin flopped on his side on the bed to face you and you stayed looking into his eyes. Hands entwined, you smiled and whispered a thank you before snuggling into his chest and settling there. He wrapped his arms tight around you and sighed, both a sigh of relief and a sigh of content happiness. Because as long as you two had each other in each other’s arms, you would both be just fine.

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spenciegoob · 3 years

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Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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sicparvismorrigan · 3 years

Text

Big Fun

Sam helps you feel better after you lose your temper.

Uncharted/Sam Drake/Post-U4

Viewpoint: 1st person gender-neutral reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: ~2.6k [complete]

Okay, outing myself a little here in the hopes that it’ll be a comfort to at least one other person. This happens…more often than I would like. I’m working on it.

This came about because of a discussion with @writingawaymylife thanks Aerin!

Read on Ao3

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you shitting me!”

You finally lose what little patience you had left and punch the wall. Underneath the cheap wallpaper it’s solid concrete and you instantly regret your feral outburst. There’s a millisecond of nothing before the pain comes rushing in, and then you’re bent double, clutching the wrist of your injured hand with the other and groaning.

You try and flex your fingers to check if they’re broken, but you can’t really tell. It’s too late. Your hand is numb within the minute. Shit, that’s really going to hurt in the morning.

You’re clumsy anyway, it’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be. You know what you need to do, how you need to move, but your body won’t respond how you want it to. You’re always dropping plates and glasses, smashing them to bits. Usually when you’re already running late, and then you have to waste more time by scurrying around looking for a dustpan to get rid of the evidence.

You’re forever bumping into things, stubbing your toes and taking layers of skin off your shoulders and shins when you walk straight into doorframes. When you try and pour things you spill them more often than not. Yet more mess to clean up, yet more time wasted.

Your fingers just won’t work sometimes, often so badly it takes you multiple attempts to tie your shoes. And when it’s cold you’re practically useless. You just give up and tuck the laces into the shoes, feeling them rub through your socks, promising yourself to fix them once you’re back in the warm, everything will work out as long as you don’t trip over your own feet before you get there.

It’s the most frustrating thing in the world. Normally you can shrug it off, you’re used to it by now. But things had been going wrong all day, even without your clumsiness, and matters just came to a head.

You remember exactly what caused you to erupt into expletives and punch the wall. It had already been a frustrating day, work was a pain in the ass, as usual. All of the most awkward customers in the world had decided to descend upon you right before your break. By the time you got home you were in a pretty foul mood. Too wound up to relax, you decided to take a load of laundry downstairs to put in the washer.

You attempted to, anyway. After trying and failing 3 times to pick up the same damn sock from the floor of your room that your fingers just would not grasp, you’d given up and kicked it away under the bed in anger. Oh sure, couldn’t pick it up but you managed to land a furious kick the first time around.

Though you were trying your best to manoeuvre around the doorframe with the pile of clothes you still bumped off it with your shoulder, muttering ouch as the latch scraped your arm. Then you overcompensated by moving too much in the other direction and stubbed your toe on the corner of the door. Instant pain that made you see red.

The pile of clothes in your arms were promptly thrown on the floor in a fit of rage. That was when you punched the wall. And now you’re a sorry state, fingers throbbing and face red, trying not to scream.

Oh shit, you hear Sam moving around in his room down the hall. There’s no way he didn’t hear you. Well, this is embarrassing. There isn’t time to pick everything up and hightail it down the stairs before he catches you, not with your mangled claw out of action.

You hear his door creak open. You slowly turn around and stare guiltily at your roommate as he pokes his head around the doorframe.

“I heard…” He takes in the sight of the pile of laundry scattered on the floor and you holding up your tingling hand, still hopping from foot to foot. “Jeez, again?”

***

Sam is your friend Elena’s brother-in-law, or something like that. You aren’t clear on how exactly they’re related, but you knew her from college, long before she got married. She heard you were looking for a new roommate a few months back, and she got in touch, telling you she knew just the person.

You baulked initially when you got a phone call from her after sparse contact over the last few years. You were actually enjoying living by yourself again, though money was a bit tighter. Your last roommate was pleasant enough at first, however they soon turned out to be a nightmare, it was a relief to get rid of them. But you liked Elena a lot, and you did owe her one or two favours. For some reason she thought you and Sam would hit it off.

And much to your surprise, you did. You were a bit nervous of him to begin with, but Sam turned out to be so laid back he was almost horizontal. The perfect foil to your occasionally manic energy. Living with him was easy, there weren’t any awkward silences. If you were in the same room but didn’t feel like talking, he was fine with it.

Your apartment was pretty basic but he seemed happy there with you. He even made you dinner sometimes when you’d had a tough day and you’d just come in and flop face down on the sofa. Sam would wordlessly stand up and then half an hour later come back through to get you with the same phrase every time. “You gonna eat something, or what?”

Elena had reassured you he probably wouldn’t even be there a lot of the time. He just needed somewhere to touch base every few weeks, she turned out to be correct.

You didn’t even really know what Sam did. He didn’t appear to have a job, he was almost always home during the day and seemed to spend a lot of time on your Playstation (“our Playstation” according to Sam). But he came up with his half of the rent every month and then disappeared again for a few weeks. You didn’t ask, not your business. You’d started to find the house too quiet and empty when he wasn’t there and you were always waiting to hear the keys in the lock and his joking “Honey, I’m home!” whenever he came back.

After moving in it didn’t take him long to pick up on your quirks, or notice that you were more accident-prone than the average person. It had led to the only argument you’d ever had with him.

One time while making dinner you’d dropped a plate and cursed yourself as it cracked in half on the tiled floor. You’d stared daggers at him, daring him to say a word about it. You totally weren’t expecting what he did next.

He’d just looked at you dead in the eyes as he pushed another plate off the counter. Exactly like a cat would.

You blew up at him. “What in the hell did you do that for? Now there’s twice as many sharp bits to clear up!”

“It’s just a plate.” He had shrugged, leaning back on the counter.

“What’s your damn point?”

“That it really doesn’t matter, and that I don’t care that we’ve had to replace pretty much everything in this kitchen since I moved in.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Not everything. You owe me a plate now.”

“You know, maybe we should invest in plastic ones.”

“We are adults Sam! And it’s not good for the environment.”

“And the current… situation is not good for your bank account!”

“Just because you’re used to plastic cutlery.” Kind of a cheap shot, but you’re still mad. You’d gathered he’d done jail time, but you didn’t dare ask what for, or how long. You caught him saying weird things sometimes and eventually realised it was because his concept of time was a little warped. He kept referring to the 90’s like it was only last week, instead of nearly 20 years ago.

Sam just laughed at your plastic cutlery comment, not at all offended. “Yeah, and I like living here so much I’m willing to do that if it means you’ll stop beating yourself up.”

“I’ll think about it.” You grumbled. But you got some plastic cups and plates on your way home from work the next day. Sam was right, it was a lot better, though it made you feel like a kid again.

As you’d gotten more comfortable with Sam you’d given up trying to hide the fact you were a walking health hazard and didn’t stifle your curses anymore.

At first he seemed amused by your clumsiness, he even laughed the first few times you did something stupid. But he quickly realised how upsetting your lack of control over your own limbs was for you, because it happened so damn often. He stopped making fun as soon as he noticed you couldn’t laugh it off with him. It wasn’t a joke to you. From then on he’d been surprisingly nice, he always attempted to make you feel better when it got too much.

***

Even so, right now as you were having a stand-off with him in the hallway, you gritted your teeth and tried to keep your voice even. Stay calm, he’s just concerned. “Yes, again.”

“What did it ever do to you? Y’know, standing there, being all wall-like…stopping our house from collapsing?”

“I lost my temper again. Punched the damn thing.”

He shook his head. “I’ve told you, you’ve got to look after those hands.”

“But they’re so fuc-“ You stop and sigh when he raises an eyebrow. Calm. “Flipping useless. I’m useless.”

“Not true.” Sam steps out of his room and walks in your direction. On the way he kicks a rogue sock back onto the main pile of mess on the floor. “Take that, you scoundrel.”

“I just wish my brain worked normally.”

“Your brain is fine. Your music taste on the other hand.” Sam moved his hand up and down in an ‘ehhhhhh’ motion and shook his head. “No no.”

He’s kidding, of course he is. Damn his sense of humour. But you don’t feel like smiling just yet. It still fucking hurts. “I think I broke something this time.” You really thumped the wall. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve actually done damage.

“You want me to check?”

“Please.”

You hold out your hand for him and he carefully wiggles and stretches your fingers one by one, watching your face for any reaction. You wince once he gets to your thumb. Oh, that one hurts the worst.

“No, thumb on the inside? For real?” Sam looked at you in disbelief.

“Apparently so.”

“That’ll learn you. That’s like rule number one of punching anything.”

You sigh. “Anything broken?”

“No, we’re all good. But keep your thumb on the outside next time or you really will break it.”

“Surprisingly, I wasn’t really focusing on technique that much. Oh hey, you should check this one again.” You hold your middle finger aloft.

“Very funny.” But he smirks at you, knowing he’s helping you feel better.

“Come on, you do that one to me all the time.”

“Learning from the best, what can I say? Oh, shit…” Sam’s staring past you.

“What, what’s wrong?” You glance back in the direction he’s looking.

Sam moves to the wall, right where you just punched and looks at you in faux-panic. “I need a medic!”

“Really?” You watch in amazement as he starts to do something to the wall which looks an awful lot like the chest compressions from CPR. Wow, he’s very committed to this bit.

“We’re losing them!”

“Sam, there’s barely a scuff on the wallpaper. I definitely came off worse.”

“I need a crash cart stat!” He yells at nobody in particular.

“Jesus Christ. You’ve been watching too many daytime medical dramas.” You just shake your head, but the corners of your mouth are threatening to twitch upwards.

“Have not…Beeeeeeeeeep! Aw, we lost them. RIP.” He finally steps away from the wall and shrugs. “I tried.”

“You’re such a goofball.” At least you’re smiling now.

“Hey, it worked didn’t it? Frown upside down.” He squeezes your shoulder. “You really did a number on that wall though, huh? I heard it all the way down there. Hell, I felt it. Made the stuff on the shelves rattle.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a bad day. A really bad day. People are assholes.” You glance down at the pile of laundry still littering the floor. “I should pick this up.”

“Do you have to right now?”

“Well, yeah…I was on the way downstairs to wash it.”

“I’m not sure the structural integrity of our house could take it if you had another…incident on the way to the washer. That wall’s concrete but you’re gonna end up going clean through one of the others. Then you’ll lose our security deposit.”

“My security deposit.”

“Right, right, right. That doesn’t mean you can punch holes wherever you like.”

“You could fix it though if I did?”

“Yeah, I guess. Y’know, I’ve never really asked you about it before, but talk me through it, what goes on in your head right before you flip out?”

“I don’t know, I just…see red and it happens before I can stop it.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s nodding. Bizarrely, he doesn’t look too freaked out to you admitting you pretty much go into berserker mode over minor inconveniences. “I know you can’t do anything about having 2 left feet, but you can do something about letting it get to you.”

“What, count to 10 or something?” You ask, mocking. Like you haven’t heard that one before.

“Yeah, seriously.” You get the impression he’s talking from experience. “It works, don’t question it.”

Screw it, he’s being really nice. At least he understands it’s not because you’re an idiot, it’s because your brain isn’t wired like most peoples. And he was right about the plastic plates. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“And you come tell me if this thing pisses you off again, I’ll deal with it.” Sam shakes his fist at the wall. He really is an idiot sometimes. But he does make you laugh. He’s your idiot.

“Gotcha.” You give him a thumbs-up with both hands, wincing again, the movement hurts.

He gives you a sly look. “How about you flex those fingers, and we play a game awhile. Crash Bandicoot maybe?”

“Again? I’ve got loads to do….” You fidget anxiously. you know what he’s up to though. Trying to get you to chill out.

“Just for a little bit. Scared I’ll beat ya?”

“Pffft, not even close, but I’m at a disadvantage this time.” There’s still no way he can win.

“I resent that, I’m getting pretty good.”

“You just mash the buttons.” It’s a fact and he knows it.

“C’mon, c’mon. I gotta at least beat your high score before I have to leave again.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m in. Let’s go!” You nod in the direction of the stairs.

“Loser deals with that later on.” He points at the abandoned pile of laundry on the floor.

“Deal, don’t go easy on me.” You step around it and follow him to the sitting room. Even with a crippled hand you’re pretty sure you can thrash him. “Elena and I used to play this in college, wonder if she still has it…”

***

Thank you for reading!

Yeah…I am not just clumsy, I am more like ‘danger to myself and others’ levels of uncoordinated. But I can’t be the only one! Don’t worry, Sam’s got your back ;) Also the title is the song Big Fun from Heathers the Musical because once again it has invaded my life. The whole soundtrack has been on a loop for days now. I LOVE IT. Punch the wall and start a fight!

- Sam Drake and Elena Fisher belong to Naughty Dog/the Uncharted creative team and I (sadly) take no ownership of them.

- This work is not for profit though it belongs to me and I must be credited when copying or reposting elsewhere

- As mentioned before reader is intended to be gender-neutral so please interpret this fic however you like. This is my first x Reader fic published and first g/n reader viewpoint I’ve attempted so I hope I did okay. I myself identify as mostly female so that’s what I normally write because it’s easier for me to connect with. But this was fun.

#uncharted #naughty dog #sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #no y/n #sam drake x g/n reader #sam drake x you #elena fisher #one shot #big fun #sfw #anger issues #no smut #hopefully just makes you feel a lil bit warm and fuzzy #roommate!sam

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

Sleep and Other Things

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Grinding, Fingering (with them metal fingers babbbby), Oral (f), Mentions of Masturbation (f), Sergeant Kink, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Light spanking, Sub/Dom, Hair pulling, Pining, Sexual tension/frustration, Language, Classic Tropes (I will not apologize), Fluff

Word Count: 11K+ (I really went on on this one I’m sorry)

A/N: It’s been TOO long since I’ve written for my bby I apologize

This sucks.

Royally, royally, royally sucks.

And if you could choose from any supernatural powers at all known to man, you’d choose the power of sleep.

Because for the past few nights, it just hasn’t struck you. You’ve tried everything you can think of: punching and kicking away at the bag in front of you in the training room until your knuckles started to bruise, drinking a nice, hot cup of tea, hell even meditation. None of it seemed to work in your favor, and you wanted to punch the force that was holding you back from a full night's rest.

Please God, or you know, whatever is out there listening. All’s I’m asking a normal fucking sleep schedule, is that too much to ask?

The blaring flashes sting your eyes with every white, vicious transition of another rerun on TV. It’s the only light in the otherwise dark room, and it’s dimmed with the volume low so that every stupid little background laughter is dull instead of blaring. And judging by the big red 3:30 on your alarm clock, you’ve been awake for approximately ten hours with no hope of a fulfilled slumber. You believe this is your third night in a row.

You sigh for what seems the hundredth time, flopping onto your right side and shoving your pillow under your arm. The soft fabric and the fresh smell of your favorite laundry detergent is doing nothing to soothe your mind and your body alike, but maybe keeping up the facade that it does will lull your eyes to remain shut and your brain silent; in the back of your mind, annoyingly, you already know that it will not work.

“Fuck it.” You mutter to yourself and throw your covers off. The floor is slightly chilly against your bare feet, but not too terribly cold, and the compound is stable and quiet; more alone time for you, more time to watch the clock slowly tick by as yet another night—day you should say given the time—drags by thorough dark circles and irritable mood swings.

The door is silent as you creek it open, though it doesn’t make one sound and you’re grateful for that. No use dragging everyone down with you.

You’re not exactly sure on what you’re looking for, but it feels right to be where the food is. It’s a start, at least. The good news, too, about going to the kitchen is that it’s not that far from your room, a blessing to you now.

The hallway is dark, too dark for you weak eyes you realize as you stub your toe on a corner of a wall. “OW—oH fuckfuck what the fuckity fu—”

“Shoulda paid attention, doll.”

You whirl around mid-tantrum, hopping on the uninjured foot rather ungracefully towards the raspy voice you recognize in a heartbeat.

The root to your problem is sitting there—short, chopped dark hair, eyes that are sometimes grey and others times blue, like a storm and a ocean living and correlating together to create a beautiful color that you often dream of, and built, toned body hiding behind a black tank top and you’re going to assume matching sweatpants—with a coffee mug in his hands, sitting by the kitchen island and stifling a shit-eating grin as you wallow.

Normally, you’d be very happy to see Bucky. Over the year that you’ve been on the team, Bucky has been nothing but kind to you, even after a rocky start to the friendship. As quiet and closed off as he is, you had managed to weasel your way into his circle; you leave him alone whenever you sense he needs it, not wanting to overwhelm him. Watch TV with him on the couch when it’s just the two of you; sometimes you’d barely say a word to each other at all, happy with the comfortable silence. He jokes around with you if you manage to burn another pancake or whatever concaussion you could scramble up or he’ll invite you to have drinks with him and the others—others being Steve and, despite the pranks and banters, Sam, and so, so much more. It’s as easy as breathing, just being with him, and the comfort and stability that you find in him never fails to put you at ease.

But it’s like somewhere down the road something shifted. You don’t know when or how it happened, but when it did it hit you like a freight train. There’s a pull towards him when you catch yourself paying extra attention to the way his body moves, alerting yours with a sudden new and ferocious need; the daydreams that come from it are even better. The soft, barely there brushes as you pass by or the barely fingertip touch when you’re standing next to each other. The longing stares that makes you wonder if there ever could be more. There’s no denying that you can’t stop looking at him differently now, as more than just the friend you cherish deeply, but as someone who could become more than just.

Sometimes, you even dream of his hand between your legs.

What makes this even worse is that you’ll occasionally catch Bucky doing the same thing to you; he may be faster than you in oh so many ways thanks to his enhancements, but there are moments where you catch him looking quickly away and towards whatever was in front or next to him, eyes glaring like he’s—he’s scolding himself.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda told you when you first explained your worries to her. “That’s what’s happening.”

You shook your head, laughing it off. “Nooo it can’t be Wanda. We’re just—”

“Friends?” She smirked.

“Yes.” You defended. “Just friends. I mean maybe—maybe we’re just going through a phase, and everything will soon go back to normal.”

Wanda rolled her eyes with a smirk. “We’ll see.”

Deep down, you knew that she was right. And that terrified you. Still does, actually. Why would you want to ruin such a good thing over what may be just a stupid, silly crush?

Now, exhausted, frustrated, and hopping around like a moron in the dark, the smug look on his face heavily annoys you more than ever.

“Thanks.” You snarl.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, easily taking in your disdained mood. “Sorry.”

You finally let your foot drop back to the ground, your toe still stinging. Bucky continues to watch you as you limp towards the cabinets and reach for your favorite mug, setting it too harshly down on the marble counter before opening the fridge.

“Try drinking tea,” he says. “It’ll be better than…Dr. Pepper.”

You shrug as you uncap the bottle and pour the sweet soda into your mug. “I’ve already tried that.” You mutter. “Nothing’s been working.”

You hear Bucky shift in his chair, hear the clicks of his metal arm as he stretches it out; he rarely does it when there’s too many people around, letting himself be free with the metal prosthetic. You feel special knowing that he’s comfortable enough to be free in your presence.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks quietly.

You lean your back against the counter and bring the cup to your lips. “Almost a full week now.”

You see him nod from your peripheral vision, straightening his back and taking a sip from his own up you didn’t realize he had until now; it smells like green tea, with a hint of something sweeter. Honey, most likely.

You expect him to ask you more questions but he stays silent as you both take small sips of your drinks. Your eyes are heavy and your body is on the verge of completely slumping against the small space behind you, but you’re still too wired to sleep—okay, Bucky was right on the soda, but you’re not going to admit that to him.

“Why are you awake?” You ask him.

He just shrugs. “Same reason as you.”

That gets you to snort. Yeah right, buddy.

“Tried sparring?” Bucky suddenly breaks the silence, causing you to jump from the intrusion.

“Sorta.” You iffley say. “Still didn’t help me much…I really don’t know what my problem is.” Liar.

He hums softly. “Well,” he puffs as he sits up from the stool. “Let’s go then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really?”

For such a heavy man, it still surprises you when he walks silently towards you, so quietly that if you weren’t looking you’d had no idea if he was moving at all. The familiar smell of his soap overwhelms your senses as he leans in, his left arm stretched to put his cup in the sink. You can’t help but inhale the alluring musk, which causes a shiver to run through your body.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda’s voice rings through your head.

God he really does smell good and he’s warm...stop it!

“So?” He scares you again out of your thoughts, and when you look up he’s close. He’s really close—well, closer than you anticipated for only putting away a dish. He’s looking down at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, but that smirk of his returns and your heart flutters at the close proximity of it.

You set your now empty mug in the sink next to his with a sigh and nod your head. “Take it easy on me. I’m not exactly coordinated right now.”

Bucky only chuckles, hearty and gruff, at your warning. “Whatever you say.”

You really like the way he says it. It sounds stupid, but you do.

He leads the way to the training room, turning every now and then to make sure you’re still following—and that you don’t stub your toe again.

“Turning the lights on.” Bucky warns you just seconds before the lights blare your vision, making you wince and blink against the onslaught.

When you can finally make out the shapes moving around, Bucky is already standing in the middle of the mat, watching you with his signature smirk. You can’t help but give him a small closed lip smile of your own as you make your way towards him.

“I’m totally gonna kick your ass.” You tease with a slight slur.

He grunts, face squished as he rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, hurry up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to be here, Barnes.” You chide as you start to wrap your knuckles. “You’re the one who suggested this.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta be a turtle about it.”

You give him the best glare you can muster as he struggles to hold in his laughter. Your grimace deepens when they finally escape, and his face is really fucking adorable when he laughs like this; without a care in the world. That makes you stare at him longer than necessary as he recovers.

“Okay I’m sorry!” He gasps, putting his hand up. “I’ll stop, I swear it.”

The scowl doesn’t disappear even as you start to adjust the strings on your sweatpants; tightening them. You know you look like a child right now with the way you’re stomping dramatically heavily towards the ex-assassin, but you’re too tired and slightly agitated to care.

“Alright,” he huffs. “Just come right at me and don’t hold back. Think you can handle that, doll?”

You smirk despite yourself and prepare a simple stance; attack. “Sure, ice bucket.”

Bucky doesn’t flinch from the playful tease. What he does is pat his chest with a closed knuckle and says, “I’m waiting.”

You watch him, take in his posture and immediately go for the legs. You’re a good agent, not the best, definitely in need of improvement, but you’re good. What you’re sort of forgetting here, a habit with him it seems, is that he is. in fact, a super soldier.

The air leaves your lungs with an oof as you land flat on your back. His hand, warm flesh that feels like is scorching your skin through your shirt, holds you down by your upper chest. You blink dumbly up at him as you struggle to catch your breath, your body jolted from its heavy, sleepless form.

“C’mon,” he says your name disappointingly. “You know better than that.”

You roll your eyes and grunt, swatting his hand away and standing yourself up. “I don’t see the point of this.” You complain. “If anything, I feel more awake than tired.”

“Oh you know what the point is.” Bucky scoffs. “Stop complaining and fight me.”

“Fine!” You growl.

The next charge at him, you honestly thought that you’d get the upper hand. Where he goes to block, you quickly change course and go for a punch. It all happens in a blink of an eye, and suddenly his metal arm is wrapped loosely around your neck in a lock, the other locking your wrists in his wide grip.

“You’re not even trying.” He breathes in your ear.

“I am.” You say through gritted teeth.

He finally lets you go with a small chuckle. It makes you angry. “If you’re just going to keep laughing at me then I’m—”

Bucky lunges at you. Your body reacts on instinct and ducks away from his attack, bouncing on your feet to the other side. The muscles in his back strain as he runs his fingers through his hair, flashing you a grin as he turns around.

“There ya ‘re.” His brooklyn accent runs thick through his praise.

That praise—and it’s not like you’ve never heard it from him before, always in playful banter—raises goosebumps and there’s no way he doesn’t notice it. You fight the rush of blood flooding to your cheeks.

“Here,” you try, bouncing around him and playfully trying to grab him, distracting yourself from your own confusing thoughts. “Just stand still and let me punch and kick at you until I pass out.”

He laughs with you and dodges your weak attempts with liquid ease. “Oh I’m sure you’d love that.”

“I would, actually.”

“You’re jus’ bein’ a sore loser.”

“So what—” You grunt as he slides to his right and pushes your hit lightly away from him. “—if I am.”

You do this for some time, aimlessly throwing weak kicks at his shins as he teases you—you’re really fucking jealous at how he seemingly floats with each bounce to his dodges. You finally manage to knip him around the ankle, causing him to wince and curse.

“Ha!” You cheer. “I bet that hur—”

Bucky takes your short moment of victory to sweep around you and kick your legs out from under you. You land ungracefully yet again on the hard mat, but this time you quickly recover and loop your legs around the arm closest to you and pull him down with all your strength. He flips hard on his back, gasping as soon as he makes contact and now you’re the one laughing at him as you have the upper hand.

“Well Barnes,” you tsk. “Looks like you’re losing your touch.”

“Don’t get cocky.” He warns as his hand flexes still in your grip. “Or else this happens.”

You blink and feel a harsh tug at the back of your neck. Everything is a blur as you feel yourself being lifted and flipped into the air, like you weigh nothing at all. Your eyes automatically shut and your body awaits for the hard impact.

It doesn’t come.

Bucky softens your fall by quickly rolling his body into yours and wrapping his arms around you, practically caging you in. Your hands reach for the first solid thing they can find, which happens to be soft skin and hard muscle. His legs cage yours between his, his hair lightly curled and there’s a strangled noise coming from somewhere and holy fuck he’s—

“You alright?” He asks, panting.

Your breaths mix together as you stare into each other’s eyes. You hear what he says, the words playing through your ears but your brain doesn’t register the nerves to actually respond to him. It feels like you’ve never been this close to him before, not like this anyway. It feels… suffocating. In such a good, intoxicating way that you don’t want him to move.

And then you realize that the reason why he must be asking that question is because he thinks you’re hurt; that strangled cry was from you.

He shifts, just slightly to adjust, that gets his arms to tighten around you for a split second. Your jaw clenches as you struggle to hide the hitch in your breath and the pool of arousal flooding between your legs.

“Y-yeah.” You finally answer, swallowing thickly. His adam’s apple bobs as he does the same, and that gets your body tingling with a familiar sensation that has your eyes widening. “I think I’m tired now.”

The second those words escape your lips you want to take them back. His eyes fall as he shakes his head and chuckles, looking shyly down as he sighs. He unwraps himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. It takes you a moment, still reeling from—well from whatever the hell that was.

Now it feels awkward. You both can’t keep your eyes on each other, looking anywhere’s else like it’s fucking interesting. You gotta stop this.

“Than—”

“Can I—”

You both say at the same time. Bucky’s soft, harmonic—in your very humble opinion—chuckle joins yours and you shake your head to clear away the fuzziness clouding your brain.

“Sorry, uh what were you going to say?”

Bucky hesitates, and there’s something in his eyes that tells you that he’s nervous. It worries you, and instinct takes over to walk to him and comfort him.

“No it’s—,” he inhales sharply. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow, when you’re more…awake.”

“I’m plenty coherent, Bucky.” You scoff. “Just tell me. I’m your friend.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; it goes without the same brightness that usually greets you and that makes your stomach drop and your heart clench with an uncomfortable grip.

“I know.” He says softly. Then his eyebrow raises in a mischievous arch. “Need me to walk you to your room?”

This time it’s you who hesitates. On any other circumstance, you would’ve immediately said yes and that would be that; no awkwardness, no tension or—or whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you.

“Um… yeah. Yeah s-sure.”

You curse yourself mentally and berate yourself to keep it together. The walk back is quicker than the walk to the training room, and a part of you is entirely grateful for it. Bucky stays close as he paddles softly through the hall until your door is in sight, and you’re standing with one hand on the handle while chewing on your bottom lip. Now what?

“Goodnight,” he says your name softly, so softly you can barely hear him.

“Goodnight Buck.” You whisper back.

He gives you one last smile and walks away, and as simple and normal as this is, it feels wrong. Like he shouldn’t be walking away, because there’s something obviously going on between the two of you and you have no idea how—well, you know one way—to fix it because you’re a goddamn coward and that smile isn’t the same smile he gives you.

You lean against your bedroom door as it shuts. Your eyes sting with unshed tears and the aching pressure between your legs is long gone, but the evidence of it sticks to your panties. Ignoring it, you hop onto your bed and fling yourself against your lush pillows, and the rest of the morning is spent with you staring at the tv screen overthinking every interaction you ever had with the man responsible for your turmoil, and fall asleep with frustration seeping through your veins.

When you come to, early afternoon you think, the ache in your pussy is too much to ignore and you cum with Bucky’s name a sigh from your ecstasy. It’s the first time you do.

–

“You look…better.”

“Thank you.”

“So what was the trick?”

I masturbated thinking about my best friend. “Training. With Bucky.”

That gets her eyebrows rising up as she ahhh’s at you. “How are things between the two of you?”

“Good.” You feign. “Really good, actually.”

“Mhmmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Just fuck already.”

“Wanda—”

“Seriously, I’m getting pretty sick of watching you mope around like this. You’ve got to talk to him.”

You sigh through your nose, throwing your head back against the couch cushion. “I know.” You groan. “It’s just—I don’t know how, you know? I mean, what if this ruins our entire friendship? I can’t…I can’t live with that.”

Wanda purses her lips and rubs your shoulder comfortably. “I know,” she coos. “But don’t think you’ll feel better getting it off your chest? How do you know that he doesn’t feel the same way?”

A pause. “No.” Yes. Another pause. “And no.” One more. “How did this happen?”

She understands what you mean when you say it in a whine. She opens her mouth and is about to reply when—

“Did what happen?”

You freeze, eyes going wide as Wanda stares back in equal horror; you also detect the glint in her green eyes that spells nothing but trouble for you.

“She just agreed to have a movie night with Vis and I. My pick, which she’s still sulking about.” She throws in, so casually that you’re kind of surprised and impressed. “We were just talking about asking you to join us.”

You should’ve seen this coming. Really, you should have. It pisses you off.

‘Calm down.’ Her voice whispers in your head, a skill she’s been working on. ‘I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.’

“Yeah?” Bucky says, all rich honey. “When?”

You roll your lips and force a smirk as you turn towards him. “Tonight, around nine.” If she was going to force you into this and pick the movie, you wanted to at least have some control over this situation.

His eyes meet yours and the crinkles around them washes away the annoyance that was starting to build. He nods while shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and grins towards Wanda.

“Alright. Pick a good movie, would ya?”

Wanda laughs. “I will!”

Your fingers twinkle in a wave as Bucky awkwardly waves back. Once you’re sure he’s gone and out of earshot, you nudge Wanda’s leg with your foot. “What the hell was that?” You hiss.

“Oh hush,” she clicks her tongue. “I just gave you an opportunity, and who knows maybe something good will happen, and you’ll be thanking me after you fuc—”

“Alright alright I get it!” You stop her, a part of you still scared that anyone will just waltz in and hear. “I’ll stop complaining under one condition.”

“Okay.” She says suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

“I get to pick the movie.”

—

Your legs hurt.

Curled up crookedly under your blanket, back at an awkward angle as you stare at the moving faces and listen to the screams as they run through the forest.

The Blair Witch Project has always been one of your favorites, and you figure there’s no sex, no nudity, nothing that could put you in a weird position with the man you can’t stop thinking about sitting right next to you on the plushy loveseat. Yeah, why not?

But of course, Wanda had to be Wanda, and insisted that the two of you lounge on the small couch while her and Vision take over the other, bigger one. As if they needed the space.

Bucky, although, doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort, and if he does he’s kept quiet about it. He seems just as stiff as you are, but more relaxed and attentive.

It’s been almost an hour of this.

There’s a little giggle from the couple to your left, and when you look over you see Wanda putting her finger to her lips, shushing Vision as she holds in more of her laughter.

Glad she’s having fun.

Stop it. You’re doing this to yourself.

You let out a soft sigh and shuffle to your right, closer to Buck as you gingerly uncurl your legs and sit them criss cross. Much better. You can pay attention to the movie better now that you’re more comfortable, so lost in the panic on the screen that you don’t hear him move but rather feel the brush of his thigh against your knee.

Once you realize it you decide to ignore the onslaught of the electric shock rushing through your core—it’s embarrassing that a touch of his leg of all things gets you going.

Bang!

You gasp and jump, gripping onto the first thing your flying hands find. It happens to be Bucky, naturally.

“Sorry!” Wanda whispers yells.

You roll your eyes with a loud, annoyed sigh and settle back into the loveseat. Your hands still grip onto his bicep, and it’s his subtle clear of the throat that brings your attention to it.

“Sorry.” You flinch and let go of him.

“It’s okay.” He sounds off, a little dejected.

You’re about to over analyze it—because that’s what you do best—when Bucky scooches closer to you and hands his arm up to rest on the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers barely reaching your shoulder. Willing yourself to relax and focus, you don’t notice the side glances he’s throwing you or the hushed whispers of your friend, who is no longer paying attention to the movie at all, but rather at you and Bucky.

“We’re gonna turn in.” Wanda announces.

Your mouth opens in a small o as you stare at her in disbelief. “Are you sure?” It’s hard to hide the plea. “It’s almost at the end!”

Vision gives you an apologetic shrug and mouths ‘sorry’ as Wanda drags him away by his hand. “Yeah, we’re sure. Don’t have too much fun without me!” Her accent thrums with pure tease and you can only blubber like an idiot while watching them disappear to their room.

“Well,” Bucky sighs and shifts lower until he’s more comfortable. “Just us.”

“Hm.”

You don’t mean to sound so annoyed. You can tell it hurts his feelings because his arm moves back to his side, effectively putting more space between you. Your heart clenches at the fact that you’re the one doing this, no one else, and seeing him now, eyebrows furrowed and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as his leg starts to bounce anxiously, makes you feel even worse.

“I think I’m going to bed, too.” Bucky says.

He stands up before you can say something, though you’re not exactly sure what you want to say to him; there’s so much and your brain is in too much of a scramble of self wallowing and fear that it’s hard to put them coherently together.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t say your name, or give you your smile. An awkward wave and heavy steps is all you get, and when they become more faint do you curse yourself and fight the stupid tears clogging your throat as you sit there in the dark.

–

It’s been a week since that night.

Wanda, much to your relief, has left you alone about Bucky, but you know with every look when he enters the room that she’s still thinking about it; still scolding you for not taking the leap of faith into what could lead to so much more. To be honest, you don’t blame her; you’d be doing the same if you knew she’d be happy.

This time it’s so bad that the rest of the team starts to notice yours and Bucky’s sudden thrift. Steve, bless him, has been the most frequent next to Wanda.

“You know you can tell me anything Buck,” Steve’s voice rang through the empty room.

This was the night after the movie incident. Restless once again, you decided to punch out your feelings and frustrations at two in the morning with the hope that you would be alone. You almost walked in on them, not paying attention, when you heard him.

“I know.” Bucky said. “But I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing there.”

Your heart leapt in your chest and your stomach dropped. Somehow, you knew they were talking about you.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked; you imagine he did so while crossing his arms.

A bang, followed by a grunt. “Nothing. Just as I said it.”

A stab deep in your heart with a jagged edge made your knees nearly buckle.

“Buck—“

��Listen punk,” Bucky interrupted. “I know you’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it, but I don’t want to…I want—“

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” FRIDAY interjects robotically. “But I’m afraid Rogers has a call waiting for him and it’s very urgent.”

You heard Steve sigh and something moved or fell, but you hurried away before you could get caught.

Ever since, you can’t get those words out of your head. They play over and over like a broken record, chasing you to insanity.

Why oh why did FRIDAY have to say something?

It was like a sign from the universe itself. Whether it was good or bad, you weren’t quite sure yet.

Tonight is a particularly warm night, which you’re not complaining about, especially with Stark’s AC. It looks to be another night of staring blankly into space until you get tired of that; covers thrown haphazardly across the room, cool air breezing against your bare skin, a new set of dark bags under your eyes brewing. A typical night for you.

This time you debate on whether you should move. It’s getting old, just sitting here but you’re too afraid of running into—well into anyone at this point. You just don’t think you have the energy for it.

So you decide on sitting by your window and watching the cars drive by, lights flashing through the busy city. Count the stars that barely shine through in the dark sky, too many city lights blocking out the natural brightness. Finally, after several long and agonizing minutes, you throw on a pair of shorts and quietly open the door, peering at the hallways to the best of your ability without any light with ears straining to detect any type of sound no matter big or small, and once you’re satisfied that you’re alone you close the door and blink.

Where to this time?

You could try the training room again, but the last time makes you hold out on that. The living room maybe? Kitchen? Game room?

Suddenly it hits you, and you want to wack yourself on the head for not thinking of this sooner. Quickly tiptoeing back to your room, you grab the fluffiest blanket you own and wrap it around yourself.

You usually prefer taking the elevator up, too lazy for the stairs, but it’s too late for that so, stairs it is. Thankfully, it’s not that many flights and when the first breeze of fresh, cool air hits your skin you immediately sigh and inhale deeply. The night is filled with miscellaneous noises of the common city, but after being here for so long you’re more than used to it. You can see the moon now, hiding behind slivers of a dark cloud, and to your right a gruff,

“What’re you doing up here?”

It’s not unwelcoming, just a question out of curiosity. You turn to him, shocked to find him up here.

“Uh.” You drawl, mouth hanging open as you think of something to say. “Well—well I…” Why is this so hard?

“Why are you up here?” You ask instead, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

Bucky shifts in the lawn chair—a cheap brand that creaks a little under his weight—and offers you a timid smile. “Don’t you remember?”

You shuffle through your memories, trying to understand the meaning behind his question. He’s patient with you, even shuffling deeper into his stance as you stare quizzically at him. What the fuc––oh. Oh you know what he’s talking about now.

“Oh Jesus Bucky I’m––” you run a palm over your face in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to say sorry for,” he assures you.

But you do. You do because he’s your friend, one of your best friends even, and with all of this going on, he deserves to have a good friend.

So it makes you feel terrible that you forgot the quite frankly huge significance of this roof, and even more specifically the very spot he’s sitting in right now; this is where he goes when he has nightmares. When he wants to be alone. This is where your friendship started.

You had snuck up to the roof in the middle of one of Tony’s parties, clad in a simple short blue dress and an armful of drinks and snacks for yourself.

It wasn’t that you weren’t having fun, you were never one to turn down a good party. But that night you had just wanted a little alone time, and the roof was one of your sanctums of escape from the world and its responsibilities.

Balancing everything awkwardly and praying that you wouldn’t have to bend down and pick any of them up, you finally twisted and pushed the door unceremoniously.

It should’ve banged against something with the amount of force you excurted—out of pure annoyance—but instead it was stopped by flashy, shiny fingers, curled against the rim of the door with quiet clicks.

“Fuck!” You gasped. “I’m sorry, didn’t know anyone was up here.”

Bucky stared down at you wearily, eyes full of surprise and wonder as he eyed you up and down, particularly taking in the overflowing variousity of items in your arms.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just needed…to get away for a moment.”

At this point you already knew how Bucky was with large crowds; you didn’t blame him for coming here, especially on warm summer nights such as this.

“Yeah,” you repeated. “Me too.” You looked down at your feet, shifting your weight. “Do you… would you like to join me?”

He froze. The blood to your cheeks was prominent, you could feel that from the heat of it. You shifted again, lifting a foot to help shove a box back into your arms.

“Okay.”

You smiled then, bright and toothy. “Here,” Bucky said, reaching for the snacks. “Let me get that.”

That night was filled with nothing but small talk and laughter, and it was one of the best nights of your life in a long, long time. From then on, you and Bucky grew closer and closer until you started to dream about riding his cock until he screamed your name and you started to push him away.

“Buck.” You sigh, shaking the perverted thoughts away.

“Just come here,” he says, reaching his hand out. “I want you to see something.”

You hesitate, but only for a split second before you find yourself walking towards him. His eyes, grey tonight, bare deep into yours like he’s trying to see into your soul; to figure you out, more likely.

Once you’re within hand’s reach he gently tugs at your blanket and your heart skips a beat at the sheer…domestically of such a minuscule motion. He tugs again, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the armrest.

“That chair is gonna break as soon as I sit on it.” You argue.

“It’s not,” he defends gently.

He still senses your hesitance and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Can I—?” He scrunches his eyebrows and carefully wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you to the left side of him. You let him guide your body until you’re half seated on his lap, legs practically curled over his thighs while his arm stays wrapped around you.

The heat from his body is searing, even through the extra layers of fluff you have on you. His breath ghosts over your cheek, casting a whiff of something sweet and minty on his breath. The hard, metal muscles dig into your back, although not uncomfortably, but enough for you to have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together at the thought of his arm tightening around you as he pounds into you—

“Look up.” He suddenly whispers in your ear, husky and deep. It causes a delectable shiver to run down your body and your pussy clenches around nothingness.

Keep it together.

Bucky must mistake it as you being cold because he pulls you tighter against him, which for you only makes it harder to control your thoughts. Your heart pounds and your ankles cross to try and relieve the increasing pressure growing in your pussy; thank goodness you brought your blanket out here.

You finally muster your eyes to follow his pointed finger and squint. “What am I looking at?”

He shifts a little more to the left. Closer to you. “There.”

You try to ignore the way his words literally hit your lips. A brush of his breath that feels like an imprint on your pink flesh and gets your mouth watering; you start to wonder what he tastes like.

“That?” You stick your hand out to the pointed stars.

“You know what that is?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you think. You’re not an expert in astronomy by no means, but you took a few classes back in the day, and somehow this piece of information resonates high and mighty in your memories.

“No.” You say before you can stop yourself.

He smiles again, that toothy smile that you love. “Cygnus. The swan, I believe. Mostly comes out during summer months and it forms this triangle,” he traces the stars. “See?”

And that is why you said no. The way he describes it, giddy and excited because he learned something new and he’s telling you…you hate yourself even more for the way you’ve been trying to avoid him.

“It’s beautiful.” You murmur.

Bucky hums in agreement. Your eyes scan for any more constellations, but you can feel him staring at you. You want to look down, your neck is even starting to strain from it, but you just…

He says your name. It comes out a whisper, and he sounds… scared. You slowly, very slowly, look down and find a swirl of gray and blue. Facing him like this makes you realize you’re closer to him than you thought; tilt your head a little down and you’d be kissing him.

As if he read your mind, he licks his lips and, unconscious or not, you start to lean forward.

This is it.

Bucky’s leaning up and holy shit you’re about to—

“Hey, lovebirds!”

The both of you jump and turn towards the intrusion, you with shock and Bucky, a murderous glare. Both his arms are around you, as if to shield you from the outsider.

“Emergency meeting.” Tony smirks. “I don’t like it either but,” he shrugs. “Duty calls. Let’s go.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches out of your peripheral vision, and you find yourself filled with the same agitation because fuck you were so fucking close.

“We should go.” You tell him, like it’s not obvious that the moment is already ruined.

“Yeah.” Bucky grits out.

You miss the safety of his arms as soon as you leave them.

–

This time you find him on purpose.

You start by going to his room. It’s late, but not too late this time. You knock softly against the door once, then twice and wait.

“Bucky?” You call out softly.

A sharp, defined meow answers you back from the otherside. You grin and give the knob a try, twisting it open slowly as you glance around the room.

“Buck?” You try again.

Alpine, Bucky’s white feline, greets you with a purr and rubs against your legs. You bend down with a coo and pick him up, scratching his head as he closes his eyes and continues to purr.

“Where’s your daddy?” You whisper to the cat.

He meows like he understands you, making you chuckle. The cool floor feels nice against your bare feet this time, a nice contrast to the heat flaring through the summer air. Alpine settles himself in your arms as you search for Bucky. Everything is quiet, no signs of anyone up and moving around, and you start to wonder if Bucky is up on that roof again when you walk by the kitchen. There’s a dark figure by the corner of your eye, but you don’t register it until Alpine starts squirming and you do a double take.

“Hey.” You put Alpine down.

Bucky nods at you and follows Alpine with his eyes as the cat rubs up against his owner, adding an arch to his spine.

“I was looking for you.” You explain when Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Hmm.” He hums nonchalantly.

You nod, because you don’t know what you want to say now that you have him and twindle your fingers together. This is… a lot harder than you expected it to be.

“Soo,” you start out. “How… are you?”

He shrugs. “‘M alright.”

Okay. You got that out of the way. Now let’s—

“Let’s go to my room.”

He’s whizzing past you before you can even blink, Alpine in tow. It takes you a moment before your muscles move and you’re following him. Your heart thuds wildly against your ribcage and you take a deep breath when his door comes into view.

Bucky has always been in a state between organized and messy. Most days you can’t even call it an organized mess, it’s more separate if you can make any sense of it. You’re reminded of this as soon as you walk in, stepping over a t-shirt and combat boots. “Sorry, sorry.” Bucky mumbles as he quickly ducks down to pick them up. The rest of his room is about the same, but it’s not too bad to make a big deal of.

“Can’t really sleep.” He offers an explanation.

“Ah.” You nod. “You got my problem now.”

He smirks mischievously and it shamefully sends a wave of blazing arousal through your body, ending at the pulsing ache quivering in need.

“It seems I do, doll.”

Is this—is this a double entendre? Is Bucky messing with you right now? Enjoying the way you’re trembling with a hold that’ll give everything away?

If so, he’s doing a fantastic job.

“So,” you clear the lodge in your throat. “S-so do you want to, uh, train? Like last time?” Okay, that might not be such a good idea—you won’t be able to control yourself then, you’re positive of it—but you genuinely do want to help him, so you’re willing to fight your animalistic pulses for the sake of your friend. No that—that doesn’t sound right. Just calling him your friend. Now, it’s leaving a distaste in your mouth.

He sits down on the edge of his bed—dark covers that match the aesthetics of his personality—and plants his elbows on his knees as he, dramatically you have to add, thinks thoughtfully with a slight pout to his perfect lips.

“Push ups.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Alright?”

“But I’m gonna need a little help.”

He leans forward, just a bit more, and—and maybe it’s just your uncontrollable imagination—his eyes are dark and blown wide.

Okay, your pussy is throbbing now, the pulse achingly worse in your clit. “O-okay.” You lick your dry lips.

His smirk widens and stretches to put his cup onto his nightstand, making his shirt pull up, showing you a sliver of chiseled abs on his toned stomach.

Holy fuck. You’re not going to make it.

Bucky catches your eye before he gets down on the carpet, the muscles in his back straining deliciously and mouth watering as he stretches his legs out and holds himself up by his palms.

“Sit on my back.”

“Wha—” You sputter with a slight giggle. “What just…just sit on you?”

“On my back, yes.” Bucky teases and glances up at you. “It’ll tire me out faster.”

It makes sense. Logically. And he does have more of an immunity than most. But you just can’t help but feel that this is part of a game of his, thinking of any and every way to torture you and watch you squirm in your helpless state.

You’re silent as you take short steps towards his crouched form and place a hand steadily on his broad shoulder. You check on his face, still as lucid and beautiful as ever, and carefully settle your weight atop his.

“Good?” You ask.

“Yes, so you can relax sweetheart.” He says without a strain. So you do as he says, sitting more comfortably on him and crossing your legs.

He bends his elbows and leans down, your fingers automatically gripping his shirt to gain more balance, and pushes himself back up at a steady pace, barely a noise coming from him. Each time he moves you feel his muscles stretch and tighten beneath you; you have to bite your lip to stop from digging your nails into his skin.

Alpine watches as Bucky continues the workout, all the while you’re sitting on him wondering just what you’re supposed to do other than sit here, anything to clear your head and appease the burning ache coursing through you.

“Say something.” He grunts.

“Like what?” You scoff despite yourself.

“I don’t know, talk about anything.” Up, down. A heavy breath. “Count for me then.”

“I don’t know how much you’ve done already.”

“Ten.” He answers immediately. Up. Down. “Eleven.” Up. Down. “Tw—“

“Twelve.” You interject with a mimicking tone. “Thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…sixteen…”

Up. Down. You highly doubt he’s even breaking a sweat right now as your body hobbles on the muscles of steel. Up. Down. A tick, sounds like from a watch, sounds lowly in the room, but to you it sounds like it’s echoing loudly through your ears. Up. Down. You need to tell him. Up. Down.

“Alp,” Bucky sighs annoyingly.

You look over and see the white glob bend its head down by Bucky’s wrist, and when Bucky leans down the cat boops his nose against his and sits.

“Oh no, c’mon.” Bucky complains. “Move.”

He tries to sweep Alpine away with one arm but you’re moving too, not holding on to him and when he leans most of his weight onto his left side, your body goes with it.

“Woah!” Your hands fly wildly as you attempt to grab onto something. That something happens to be soft and you mistake it for his shirt and pull.

“Hey—shitmhm!”

You freeze. He does too.

Did that…did that just happen?

The air is thick, so fucking thick, you’re not sure if you can breathe properly under the weight of it.

Now what the fuck do you say?

“Um are you—” you’re breathless, like you’ve been the one doing the push ups. “Are you okay?”

He still keeps his stance, Alpine long gone by now towards his bed most likely. You don’t care about that right now. All you can think about is how his arms flex as he keeps you up and how you can see his jaw tick; it shouldn’t turn you on, but that groan does nothing to help you as it echoes through the air silently.

“Buc—”

There’s a tug on your calf and suddenly the room is a blur. You feel yourself being pulled down and flipped onto your back, and again you brace yourself for impact but it’s—it’s just the soft carpet, and he’s leaning over you, legs between his now open ones with a dangerous look in his eyes that you can’t tear away from. A bead of sweat dribbles down the tip of his nose until it drips down onto your cheekbone, but that’s not even enough to break the spell you’re currently in. It breaks Bucky’s, however, because he curses and wipes the small line from your cheek and wipes the front of his face with an open palm.

You should say something. A word. Just something. He turns back to you and just…looks at you. And you look back. Breaths mix together, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and there’s a battle waging in his mind, you can see that in his eyes; they’re barely recognizable now, no blue or gray.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes you a second to register what he said. It’s soft, so fucking quiet and gentle that it pierces straight through your heart. Your stomach erupts in nerves and your legs tighten together on their own accord, pussy fluttering at the question.

Bucky waits patiently, never once moving a muscle. You lick your lips and that’s when he moves, a flicker of his eyes and a part of his lips.

You don’t answer him with words. You don’t think you can trust your voice enough to. Don’t think at all, actually. Instead you nod and wait with baited breath as he nods back, leisurely, and starts to lean in. It’s tentative, careful but eager. You never take your eyes off his, only when you feel the soft press of his lips against yours do you indulge yourself.

The kiss starts off slow. Barely even a kiss, just lips against lips. You crane your neck up and back a little and press harder against him, making him moan softly in the back of his throat and shit that’s one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard; you need to hear more of it.

Sensing your eagerness, he presses back and kisses you like you’re sure he did back in the 40’s, slinging every gal and wooing them with just a wink of an eye. His tongue traces the outline of your bottom lip and you open your mouth with a gasp, inviting his curious tongue into your warm crevasse. He sighs at the taste of you, swirling his tongue with yours in a fight you know he’ll win. Your hands lift up and wrap around his shoulders, pushing him down on to you. He presses down on your knee and you spread your legs for him to settle in between.

“Why—” He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connected to your lips trailing along as you whine from the loss. “Why did we wait so long to do that?”

You giggle, deep and low and he joins in with his own, harmonizing perfectly. “I don’t know,” you say. “That’s sorta my fault, I guess. I just—” you look away shyly.

Bucky places two fingers underneath your chin, prompting you to look at him. “Didn’t want to risk our friendship.” He finishes for you.

You nod. Your chest feels lighter now, a new sense of…of an increasing, raw excitement growing inside you. He must feel the same way, too, because he swoops back in for another kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. Your arms flex as you hold him still, running your hand up the nape of his neck and into his locks, gripping a handful of it to stable yourself. Bucky moans again and drops his hips into yours, where you feel the hardening outline of his cock through his sweatpants, grinding purposefully against yours.

“Bucky,” you gasp, moaning when his lips trail down your jaw and stop at your neck.

“I’m so sorry we ever waited this long,” he groans into the skin, planting a kiss on your rapid pulse. “You’re so fucking beautiful, малышка.

You don’t understand much Russian, but Bucky has been trying to teach you on and off and this one you understand; babygirl.

“Fuck.” You moan. He sucks a mark on your neck and bites down on it, making you whine and arch your back into him. He pushes back down, and his cock feels impossibly harder and you know he can feel your hot, dripping cunt, too.

“Please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for. “I-I need…”

“What?” He asks sweetly. When you continue to sputter at him, he gives a hard thrust against your clothed cunt.

“A-ah fuck.” You keen.

“Tell me what you want.” He orders. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you. C’mon.”

It feels like you can’t breathe. He hasn’t even been inside you yet and you’re already on the edge, chest heaving and thighs quivering with the anticipation.

Bucky suddenly drops down to his forearms, leaving a searing kiss that has you whimpering for more. “Want me to taste you?” He whispers huskily. “Like I dreamed?” His hands slide under your shirt, skimming against your sides. Your breath catches, caught in your throat as your skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Kiss that pretty pussy of yours? Fuck you with my fingers? Get you alll—“ He palms your breasts and pinches your nipple; you bite down on your lip hard, indents digging sharply through the tender flesh. “—nice and wet for my thick, fat cock? Would you like that, doll?”

Would you like that? You’d fucking kill for it.

“Yes!” You moan loudly. “Oh please Bucky, please.”

Bucky loves to see you beg. His dick twitches in response in his pants and you dig your nails into his back.

“Okay baby,” he says against your open mouth. “Get on the bed for me, legs spread.”

You don’t hesitate as soon as he lifts off you. You crawl on the bed with shaky limbs and lay on your back on his pillow; it smells distinctly Bucky, filling your senses with fueled desire.

Bucky looks at you like you’re fucking treasure. Like you’re the sun, the moon, everything to him, and it makes you blush and flutter under the intensity of it. You hold your arms out with a slight pout.

“Please?”

He huffs a chuckle and reaches behind him to pull his shirt over his head. Your mouth waters at the beautiful specimen before you; you want to kiss the faint scars that littler his body. He pulls down his pants next but keeps his boxers on, the outline of his hard cock prominent and strained through the fabric; if it’s bothering him, he’s doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

Bucky crawls towards you, slow and with a curve, like a predator capturing its prey. You reach out for him and grab his shoulders, pulling him towards you for a kiss. His lips, slightly chapped but otherwise soft, move against yours in perfect synchrony, as if your bodies are already so in tune with each other. He breaks the kiss, diving back to lick your top lip, and slides the palm of his hands back up under your shirt, this time pulling the fabric with him. You help him slide the shirt off and throw it casually across the room; your nipples perk under his wandering and trumpeting gaze.

“Fuck, doll,” he whispers.

Before you can react he leans down and envelopes your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the perky bud. You gasp and hold his head to your chest while his hands grip down on your hips, hard enough to where you know there’s going to be bruises. He bites down on the bud, causing you to roll your hips against his and your toes to curl.

“Bucky.” You whisper, just because he’s all you can see and feel and smell…

He lets go of your breast with a pop and trails his kisses down the valley between your breasts and to your stomach, stopping at the pant line.

“Yes.” You say before he can ask. “Please, Bucky. I need you to touch me.”

“I already am, sweetheart.” He replies innocently.

You don’t want to argue right now. “James.”

He laughs and dips his fingers inside the waistband, the cool metal making you shiver. “You know,” he says as he drags your pants down your legs at an agonizing pace. “I kinda like it when you say my name like that.”

You chuckle, but it comes out weird and without much air. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He bites your hip bone, making your hips jump and your pussy clench. “James.”

Keeping your eyes on him—somehow, you know that he wants you to keep watching him—Bucky licks the very same spot he just bit and catches his teeth on the lining of your panties, pulling back and tugging at the flimsy fabric. The act alone almost makes you cum.

You moan lowly and lift your hips to help him pull them down your legs, kicking them off once they’re at your ankles.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, his breath hot against your pussy; if it weren’t for his broad shoulders, you would’ve closed your legs to relieve the pressure. “You’re fucking dripping, baby. Did I do that to you?”

You swallow and open your mouth, but no words come out. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, cut off from oxygen. Bucky grimaces and slaps your thigh with his flesh hand, making you cry out.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes.” You stutter. “Fuck, Bucky yes, only you.”

He grins and kisses the top of your pubic mound, gripping your thighs tighter and scooching closer to the bed. “Gonna taste you.” He whispers, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than you.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, waiting for him. You think he might slap you again if you continue moving, so you will yourself to relax and…and wait. Because he can’t stop fucking staring at you, and kissing everywhere but where you want him the most and it’s so frustrating you’re going to cry.

“Pl-EASE!”

His hot, wet tongue slides up the strip of your folds and settles around your clit, circling the sensitive bundle. You preen into his mouth and clutch at the bedsheets, already writhing against him. He immediately throws an arm—his right one—over your lower stomach and pins your hips down, preventing you from moving an inch away or towards him; you’re completely under his will.

Bucky explores the velvety slit of your pussy, humming all the while like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The groans that are escaping you doesn’t sound like you, doesn’t feel like they’re coming from you, but they are and it finally catches up to you—James Buchannon Barnes, your friend, best friend, your co-worker, is eating your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.

“Oh fu—” He nips carefully at your clit. You can’t focus. Not on your words, your surroundings, nothing but Bucky and the sensations he’s bring you. Every lick and suck on your pussy has you keening into his unbreakable hold, whining and clutching the sheets until you’re sure you’re going to tear right through them. This is too much, way too fucking much but you’re so close, so desperate for him, that you’ll—

He slurps lewdly and loudly, making you throw your head back and choke on a moan. “Bu-Bucky I—I need…”

He pulls back just slightly enough to say, “I know.” And he shifts, getting ready to switch arms.

No. Oh no no no no.

Your hand darts out and stops him. Gulping, you wordlessly place his flesh arm back on your stomach and reach for his metal fingers. Bucky’s eyes widen as soon as he figures it out and stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head.

“R-really?” He asks indubely. “You want me to—Jesus baby you—fuck.”

“Please.” You whine. “I can take it.”

He—he snarls and buries his face back into your weeping pussy, attaching his lips around your clit. You gurgle out a low curse and feel his cold fingers prod at your gaping entrance.

“You sure?” He asks cautiously.

“If you don’t I will literally—OH!” One thick, wide finger breaches through your hole and slides into your cunt with ease, curling as soon as he’s knuckle deep. Your body spasms, like you’ve just been electrocuted, and your fingers curl in his hair.

“Taste fucking delicious,” he begins to babble. “Sweet like candy. Nevr’ gonna get enough of it, doll, never.” He pumps his finger in and out of you, curling each time he slides back in, brushing up against your sweet spot. After a few pumps, he dips another in, stretching you.

“Bucky I’m—” The coil in your lower stomach tightens, your pussy fluttering against his fingers painfully, but in a way that’s everything pleasurable. “Oh fuck I’m gonna c-cum.”

His lips are around your clit again, fingers pumping faster now to the point where you can hear the squelches from your cunt, and without any warning he sucks. Hard.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” It comes out of you without preamble, mindless babbling that doesn’t even make sense at all. Your thighs cage his head, shaking and quivering as your orgasm approaches. “I’m g-go-gonna—” Your pussy clenches harshly around his thick digits and you’re gone. White flashes behind your eyelids, a numbness searing through your entire core as you shake and gush around his fingers, and a strange sound emanates through the room again; you don’t have to question who it is.

Bucky works you through your release, moaning and lapping at everything you have to give him. Eventually you come down when it becomes too painful to bear and you push his head away from you. Giving your clit one last kiss that makes you whimper, he stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking down at you all the matter.

“You did so good, baby.” He praises you; you shutter, legs jumping slightly as your body flexes. “Gonna let me fuck you? Huh, babygirl?”

You’ll let this man do anything to you. Your limbs feel like jello, but find enough strength to keep your legs open and open your arms invitingly to him. He makes a show of pulling his boxers down, your eyes following the patch of dark hair and bulges at the long, thick cock that slaps against the hard plains of his stomach, precum smearing from the red angry tip. Next time—and you really fucking hope there will be a next time—you’re going to put him in your mouth.

“Like what you see?” There’s more of that cocky, playboy Bucky Barnes you’ve heard so much about.

“Yes.” You answer honestly. “Kiss me.”

The bed shifts slightly and creaks under his weight as he crawls towards you and locks his lips with yours; you can still taste yourself on his lips, sweet and tangly. The tip of his head brushes against your clit as he lays down on top of you, hot and smearing more of his precum across your stomach.

“Fuck me,” you moan into him.

Bucky groans lowly and you reach down to grab his cock; it’s hot, thick enough to where your fingers don’t reach and pulsing in your hand. “Shit.” He hisses, hips stuttering in your grasp.

Nex time, you’re going to tease him, too; give him a piece of his own medicine. You would now, but this has been a long time coming and you’re tired of waiting, so you line him up at your entrance and keep your hand on him as he slowly pushes in.

He moans your name the same time you moan his, looking down to watch himself sink into your warm depths. He stops when he’s balls deep, and you feel so full that you’re positive the tip of him is about near your cervix.

“Bucky.” You wiggle beneath him. “Move.”

“I got you, princess.” He croaks. “I got you.”

Pushing himself down on his forearms, Bucky pulls out painfully slow, his dick already wet and slick with your juices, and pushes back in. You roll your hips into his thrusts, taking him deeper. Every single muscle in his body flexes under your touch as you wrap your arms around his back, rolling into you with perfect thrusts that hits a spot deep inside you. You're too wired, too engrossed with the fact that it’s him, that your still overly sensitive pussy clenches around his cock.

“Baby,” his voice presses sweet and deep in his throat as he gasps. “I’m not—fuck I’m sorry I-I’m not—”

“It’s okay.” You tell him breathlessly, pressing your forehead against his and giving his lips a quick peck. “Just fuck me, Bucky. Use me, like I’ve dreamed of.”

Bucky chokes, eyes wild and neck red, and pulls almost all the way out until the tip is barely in and thrusts back in harshly. You cry out and dig your nails into his bare skin, leaving angry marks in their wake. He grabs your leg and hitches it over his hip, bringing his arm back down to wrap around you.

“You ever touch yourself thinking about me, doll?” He grits. “Huh? Have you?”

How—oh Jesus fuck how are you supposed to answer that when he’s fucking you so deep that you can barely remember your own name. Your pussy clenches in answer to what he already knows, and that gets him to grind down at you; the curls of his hair brush heavenly against your clit. “Yeah, you have, haven’t you?”

Pleasure rips through as his hips meet your harder and faster, the slap of skin against skin becoming louder and louder, as is your cries, but you don’t care if the whole fucking world hears you.

“You’re tight,” he gasps, closing his eyes. “How are you s-so fucking—fuck tight?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that, but the only thing you can do is bring him down to kiss you again, clashing teeth as you moan and cling to him. He breaks the kiss and buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. His arms slide back down to grope your ass cheeks and lift your lower half up to meet more of his heavy and hurried thrusts.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warns you in a moan.

You kiss his neck while your hand slides down his back to grope at his ass—as if you can push him even more deeper inside of you—and you lick his earlobe, tugging at the end with your teeth until he shivers.

“I want you to cum,” you whisper seductively in his ear. “Sergeant, please.”

Sergeant. Sergeant. You have no idea where it came from, but as soon as the words leave your mouth he growls and starts to plow you, fingers digging into your flesh as his hips snap into yours.

“Shit. Oh fuck babygirl I can—I can’t.” His rhythm falters, your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, trying to get his cock to say within you after each delicious drag against your walls. He whines—a pitiful, deep whine that resonates throughout the shocked nerves—and you can’t—

“I’m cumming.” You manage to break out. “B-buck—fuck.”

Your ankles cross around his waist, and it takes his teeth in your neck to have you cry out onto the ceiling as your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in and clenching until your muscles feel spent and sore.

“Oh God,” Bucky whimpers and it sends another wave through you, making him sputter and choke as his hips slam into you unevenly. “Shit shit, fuck.”

“Please baby.” You encourage softly. “Cum.”

He abruptly pulls out, your protest lodged in your throat as you feel the hot, thick ropes of cum spurt out onto your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck.” Bucky continues to gasp, his hand flying to his weeping cock and fisting it.

You moan as a few more land on your chest, painting your body with his pearly white cum; you know it’s over when he starts to slump. Without a second thought, he pushes back into you. “Bucky.” You can only say in slight confusion and pain.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I just—“ he winces as his hips connect with yours again. “—just wanna feel ya. Too good.” He slurs.

He kisses you then, slow and unhurried unlike earlier. This kiss says so much more in its language, lost in the dance of your lips. He trails his lips up to your forehead and places the softest and faintest of kisses there before settling on your chest.

You hum and rub his back soothingly. You’re both sweaty and sticky—Bucky doesn’t seem to mind this fact as he presses himself closer to you—and your body is satisfyingly numb and exhausted. Finally exhausted for what seems like ages.

Once the haze evaporates from your mind, questions start flying: what does this mean for you and Bucky now? When and how do you tell the others? What does this mean for missions? What does—?

“Stop thinking.” Bucky mumbles, voice covered by the breast he’s laid his head on. “Too loud.”

He’s right. This time, it can wait.

You smile and whisper an apology, snuggling deeper into the hug. You try to get comfortable, but the sticky evidence is drying uncomfortably on your skin.

“Bucky,” you sigh. “We gotta shower.”

You feel his nose squint. “Few more minutes.”

You fall asleep before those few minutes are up.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfic

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

White Picket Fence [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: White Picket Fence [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve been with Kai Chisaki for three years. Your life is quiet and cozy and soothing. But what do you do when you realize you want more?

For request: Anonymous said: i love the way you write overhaul!! may i request more of him, please? what would he do if reader develops stockholm syndrome and wants to do the things which normal couples do, even wants to marry him or have kids? thank you!

Word count: 2200-ish

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome

You should really ask Kai to get a new sofa for his office. His current one, the leather one which used to be shiny and pristine and rather intimidating for someone used to sitting on ratty chairs pilfered from curbs, has definitely seen better days.

The seats are lumpier, now that you've spent years--3 years, one month, 3 days, but who's counting--in his life, sprawling on the sofa. Reading, napping, doing endless hobbies. Snuggling, when he was in the mood. An endless parade of legs and limbs, pillows and books, growing tiny scratches etched with your fingernails that you sit on to cover them up.

His entire office has your touches, now. The blanket you asked for last Christmas, a big fluffy bright purple affair, is draped over the back of the couch. He keeps your framed embroidered pieces on his desk, because--you assume, but he won't confirm, because he thinks it will hurt your feelings (it won't!)--he can easily stow them away when he has meetings to hold. You don't embroider much, anymore, but it was fun to take on a new hobby.

Kai is kind like that, to give you new hobbies to do. He doesn’t even mind when you get bored of them and move on to something else.

Your books are not as easy to stow away in case of guests, you think. They're scattered here, there, everywhere. In stacks, on shelves. You know there's one stuck under the sofa but you didn't really like the first book in the series and you've decided it should stay put as a result.

Bookmarks, some handmade, others handed over by Kai as a gift for this or that, sticking out of the well-worn pages. Once, you snuck on YouTube during your highly limited, highly precious tablet time (earned, as it were, over the past 2 years) and stumbled on a DIY for making resin bookmarks stuffed with trinkets, glitter, flowers, ink. You’ve yet to broach the subject with Kai, because one, it would mean admitting you snuck on YouTube but two, you don’t think he’ll let you work with resin. But, still. The seed has been planted and when it sprouts, you’ll get the nerve to ask him.

Your sleeping bag is in the laundry, wherever the laundry happens to be, but on colder days you like to spread it on the floor and have reading or hobby marathons while he works. It's childish, but he humors you. He always (mm, no--usually--he did shoot down requests for the dog, the cat, the fish, the rabbit, and the lizard) humors you. You appreciate that about him.

And you appreciate this moment, right now. You're curled up on the sofa, half of the soft blanket in your lap to keep you warm. A book is in your hand, something new from the best-seller list that Kai brought home in a tidy store bag. He brings lots of gifts, and you appreciate every one of them. Although Kai does make you declutter every month. If you didn’t, your room would be simply stuffed with gifts. You don’t begrudge him this, since he lets you keep anything that’s especially precious to you. It’s a fair trade--you’re precious to him and he keeps you, after all.

He's typing away on his laptop, the sound so familiar that it's practically white noise, and you sit on the couch and read. It's quiet. It's comforting. It's... domestic, really.

And it makes you sad.

Lately, sitting in Kai’s office--these quiet moments, these nice moments, just make you sad. You don't know why. Things are good right now, but you just feel weighted down, heavy. Lost and bored and aimless.

But it shouldn’t make you sad that you’re enjoying a new book. Maybe you’re sad about something else. You can’t remember having a bad dream. The outfit Kai picked out for you this morning was cute enough. You didn’t stub your toe getting into the tub. Kai didn’t tug on your hair when brushing out the knots. So… what’s wrong?

You turn your attention back to your book, trying to shake the feeling, shake the obtrusive thoughts that sometimes find their way to the surface now and then. But the words don't want to leap off the page, weaving a story in your mind that takes you into someone else's life and narrative and world for a few precious hours.

And here, again--you don’t know what’s wrong. It’s an interesting enough book, as books go. It's a domestic novel about domestic squabbles, a husband and wife who are 15 years and 3 children into their marriage; living in the pristine suburbs, tired of working and parenting and painted fences and tired of each other.

Maybe the book isn't clicking because you can't really relate. You would never get tired of such things, you think. To have a fence! Oh, to have a yard. Or maybe even have little children, with lives to manage and nurture. Wouldn’t that be nice?

You don't have those things. No--you can't have those things, can you? Your world has been shrunk down to a few rooms. Your bedroom. The bathroom. Kai's office. The clinic. You've made those rooms cozy and comforting. With things and time. But how could you have a toddler, a fence, a dog that barks too much in these limited walls, in this limited life?

And… how could you have any children running around when Kai has never expressed an interest in that sort of life with you. Oh, you've kissed. A few times. The memory of them makes your cheeks hot and you squirm, just a little, on the couch. You like to take those kisses with you at night, under the covers. But it's never been more than kisses, than light touches, than holding hands or feather-light strokes of your neck.

He's never gone further, never so much as asked. You also take this realization with you at night, though by morning the thoughts are gone. Now, in the daylight, they hit you hard and you can’t sleep to make them go fuzzy and grey.

Does he not want you in that way? You're not a virgin, and you don't know if he is, or isn't. But you thought you were attractive enough to... want. You kissed, he did kiss you, he does still kiss you now and then, but why not something more?

Maybe you were ugly. Maybe he felt pity for you. Maybe the kisses were just to keep you from going stir-crazy inside these walls and this life that never went anywhere. He was never going to want anything more than occasional touches, was he? And this was going to be your life, embroidering and reading and fussing about sleeping bags until you were old and grey and useless. A life wasted, a life slipped through the cracks. Your chest hurts and you wish you could fall asleep to make yourself stop thinking.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" Kai asks, keyboard silent, laptop humming.

Oh. You've been staring ahead this entire time. You feel cool tears wet on your cheeks. You do this sometimes, drift and stare and cry, and never seem to realize it. So you wipe your cheeks, and you smile. You don't want to worry him. He has so many things to worry about, things he won't tell you, because he knows best--you couldn't hope to understand his work. You are too naïve and kind, and he's got what your 90s-era self help books (you had a phase for reading them last January) call "street smarts."

When he doesn't resume his work, you try again. "It's nothing," you say, light and airy. "I was just thinking about a book."

Instead of typing, he shuts the laptop and your stomach immediately feels like it's going to float away. No, no, no, you've distracted him. He said he had a lot to do today, he said that! Why couldn't you just read your book and be good. Now he'll be upset and distracted and worried and it's all your fault.

You instinctively move over to make room as he sits down on the couch. You don't want to look at him, but you don’t want to not look at him. So you force yourself to smile, force yourself to look--not too happy, but, pleasant, and keep your eyes focused on his shoulders. He rests his hand on top of yours. You look up at his face--it’s only polite, it’s only kind--and the instance your gazes meet you immediately crumble. You cry. Ugly cry, the kind of crying you really hate to do. His look of surprised concern makes your heart twist. You really are bothering him.

But you have to know.

"Why don't you want to marry me?" Your voice is soft and hoarse and aching. Through your tears you see his look of genuine confusion, surprise--and even something sadder, something akin to hurt.

You want to explain. You want to explain how you've just realized that you'll never have kids and a nice big yard and he'll never come home from work to a good meal and kids running on hardwood floors to greet him. You'll never have a wedding with a fancy dress and tasteful invitations. You'll never argue with neighbors about your dog getting into their yard.

You'll never learn to cook anything more than the shitty microwave meals you ate before you met him, because you've never even seen a kitchen in this place despite being here for years. You’ll never have any of it, except what you read about it books. How do you explain that you’re jealous of a bitter, old married couple because at least they had a life together?

The hand resting on top of yours squeezes and you finally feel the blustery courage to let it all spill out. The words come tumbling fast and thick and laced with a froggy hoarseness.

"Why can't we have a normal... a normal life? I can't have," you swallow, and take a shuddering breath. You're open, you've learned so many lessons to be open with Kai, but expressing these thoughts makes you feel queasy. What if he gets mad?

“I can't have kids and a big yard and a dog that the neighbors don't like, because I'm here, in these little--these little walls and little rooms, and how can we have kids if we're not married, and how can we be married if you've only kissed me a few times? Why don't you want to be with me? What's wrong with me?"

You're hyperventilating now, and there's an old tingle that you've suppressed, the fear and rage and helplessness that once made you scream and throw and punch walls. You think about the book under the sofa and hate it so much for being there. You think about your embroidery sitting prettily on Kai’s desk and you want to rip out every single thread.

You think you really break open, about to grab something and just destroy it, when suddenly Kai’s gloved hands are on your cheeks and his mask is gone and oh, his lips are on yours and is that tongue you feel--it is, it definitely is--and he’s never kissed you like this, deep and warm and soft and wet.

He pulls away and you’re dumbfounded and you must look dumb, too, because Kai wipes away a stubborn line of drool on your bottom lip and chuckles, low and light. He leaves the ugly, thick tears that have stained your cheeks.

“Do you really think I don’t want to be with you?” His thumb strokes your lips and the seam of the glove tickles and sends a hot thrill shooting down your stomach. “Do you think I haven’t imagined our… future?”

His touch is soft and his words are soft and his gaze is familiar and comfortable; the look that makes your stomach do fumbles, the look he gives you when he’s letting you know that you’re being silly again.

“I… I don’t know,” you say, your shaky breath ghosting over his thumb. “It’s just--”

He presses his thumb on your lips and you quiet down, and you listen.

“I’m waiting until you’re ready. You know that I know what’s best for us, what’s best for you, don’t you?”

You nod.

“Then you know that we will have all those things--” you ignore the voice inside you, so small and silly now, that’s insisting you-won’t-you-won’t-you-won’t--- “but only when you’re ready.”

He smiles, and you smile, because you know that he’s right. You wipe away your own tears and grin, sheepish and feeling so ridiculous for having a fit right in the middle of the day like this.

You let yourself be tucked in, let Kai drape the soft blanket over your legs. He presses a kiss to your forehead and your lips tingle with envy. You watch as he goes back to his desk and sits down, as he replaces his gloves and his mask. All is well, all is back to normal.

Kai starts typing, and you let the white noise soothe you as you pick up your book and flip open to your bookmark. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask about the resin.

#yandere overhaul #yandere #yandere kai chisaki #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes #he is SUCh... an asshole

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marc-spectorr · 2 years

Note

hiya <3

god, you already know exactly what i’m a sucker for. tysm for those jake hcs, so lovely. i’m doing alright today so far, slept in but i may be going to the comic store for some moon knight comics. :]

here are some of my jake hcs. obviously i won’t write a masterpiece like you, these are just bits n pieces of thoughts, but i hope you enjoy them nonetheless:

stupid n silly one, but jake wears a fake mustache!! it’s how he looks in headspace, which if you weren’t aware is a did term referring to the place alters go when they aren’t in front. i’m pretty sure it’s implied the moon knight system’s headspace is the psych ward.

jake tends to show his love in violent ways, because he doesn’t really know much else. this includesss finding out who wronged you when you’re down, beating their ass and coming home n telling you about it like it’s nothing. you’d probably have to explain to him how that’s not a normal things most boyfriends do.

jake is fluent in both spanish and english, but since english is his second language, he still trips up occasionally. he’s self conscious about this, though, and doesn’t usually ask for help with words he’s forgotten, so he just makes up new ones and hopes you get the message. like, if he forgot what a raccoon was called in english, he’d say “dumpster cat” or something along those lines.

jake is steven’s wingman, and constantly has to give him advice because he’s more naturally romantically inclined than steven. steven would probably panic before a date w you, and jake would have to calm him down and ground him in the mirror, plus help him get an outfit together. jake would act annoyed with this, but he thinks it’s sort of cute of steven, and it’s nice to hang out with him.

when you first met jake, he tried to pretend he was steven… and failed horribly. the accent was okay, but you could immediately tell something was off when his voice was at an exaggeratedly high pitch, and when he stubbed his toe he exclaimed “puta madre…!” in a much deeper tone.

he stims by cracking his knuckles. he also has a resting bitch face. this has gotten him in more fights than he’d like to admit.

jake doesn’t really understand metaphors or idioms. like, “the cat’s out of the bag” “spill the beans” “didn’t you get the memo?” it just confuses him, and he always gets mad trying to get out of you what the hell you’re talking about.

that’s about all!! i hope you enjoyed my headcanons too, though they are a bit silly and not exactly hot of jake hehe. they’re mostly me projecting + my own personal experience w my family, who is latino. i love this man sm, he is constantly rotating in my mind.

thanks again for your time, callie. i really hope you have a wonderful day.

- <3

hiyaaa <3 nonnie 💞

omgg these headcanons you’ve made fit jake SO WELL !! they’re perfect and just *chef’s kiss* 😩 i do believe that under that resting bitch face of his, is a sweet and tender side that he only shows to those he really cares about. he’s lowkey a very big softie with a warm loving heart but don’t tell marc and steven that bc they’ll prob tease him for it hehe.

all of your hcs are absolute masterpieces, but my favorites would have to be the second and fourth ones :)) like jake is the protector of the system, so it would make sense that he’s super protective when it comes to you. the man would do just about anything for you, including getting himself into a fist fight to defend your honor shdjkskk.

also jake as a wingman is too adorable!!! he’s def the most romantic out of the three and knows exactly how to woo people. so when steven asks him for advise, jake’s more than happy to help out. he’s gonna suggest restaurants to go to, fun activities that you and steven could do together, and tell him what kind of flowers to get for you. jake would want steven to look his very best and he’s probably rejected three outfits of his before finally settling on the best one (after more than an hour of arguing and meltdowns ofc).

ugh i could go on about each hc bc they’re all so ahmazinggg but this would become a never ending posting 😭 but tysm for sending these in sweetie! im so obsessed with them and hope you’ll share more 🥺👉👈

#asks #<3 anon #jake lockley hcs

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #bakugou x gn!reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #gn reader #mha x gn!reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you

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qitwrites · 3 years

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Momo is 13 when she gets her first period.

Her parents had talked to her about it of course, told her it was completely natural and normal and healthy, and to come to them when it happens.

What nobody was prepared for was the pain.

She’s in the family garden creating some Lego blocks for herself when a bout of cramps, sharp and intense, roils through her abdomen and up her left leg. It’s so sudden she can barely call for help, and by the time the guards reach her, she’s on the ground sobbing, clutching her stomach and shakily taking in gasps of air.

They tell her it’s a combination of her diet and her genes. The high-fat diet has consequences, no matter how much she uses her quirk to balance it out and her father’s side of the family has a history of debilitating period pains. It’s just really bad luck, or so they tell her.

Of course, this doesn’t deter Momo from her plans of becoming a pro-hero. It’s all she wants. So, it’s what she chases and works for and earns.

The period pains get worse.

Class 1A doesn’t notice for the longest time. Momo is good at hiding it, at hiding how often she uses the loo for the first two days, how much pain she’s biting back in class, how badly she’s performing in training. She practices her smile in the mirror, sits through hours of class and training and socializing with a smile plastered on her face, and screams into her pillow at night. She spends those nights on her bathroom floor, alternating between throwing up and enjoying the cool feeling of the tiles underneath her.

Nobody realizes until Momo doesn’t show up for class one day.

Of course, everyone is immediately concerned- Momo isn’t one to skip. She takes the best notes, has perfect attendance, submits her assignments on time, the works. First period passes like that, and Aizawa even brings it up but nobody knows where she is. She hasn’t messaged a soul or called anyone about anything.

They’re on break after second period when Todoroki finds her on the staircase landing between the first and second floor.

Momo is on the ground, laying on her side. Her hand is in her mouth, blood dripping down her skin as she clenches it tightly between her teeth. Her other hand is wrapped around her abdomen, squeezing tightly. Tears stream down her face continuously, like an endless river. She’s muffling her screams, and it’s almost like she can’t even see Todoroki, her gaze piercing straight through him.

Todoroki is immediately alarmed, getting to his knees in front of her. He looks over her and can’t see any physical injuries, any signs of trauma.

‘Yaoyorozu,’ he says urgently, ‘what’s going on?’

Momo blinks at him, some of the tears dispelling. She finally sees him, recognizes him, and gasps. She pulls her hand away and the tears spill again.

‘I can’t-‘ she starts and sucks in a sharp breath ‘-I can’t breathe. I can’t- there’s too much pain fuck.’ Todoroki raises his brows- Momo never curses. Never. Not even when she stubbed her toe against the dining table and broke it.

‘We have to get you to recovery girl,’ Todoroki says, moving to help her up.

‘Wait,’ she groans. ‘I need- dammit, Todoroki let me borrow your left hand for a moment please.’

Todoroki complies without question, and watches as she takes it and places it on her abdomen above her uniform.

‘As hot as you can go,’ she says, ‘without burning my uniform. Please.’

Todoroki has no idea what’s going on, but he does as she asks. The effect is almost immediate- her breathing evens out, her eyes focus again, her body stops jerking in pain. It’s almost like she’s been sedated.

After nearly 2 minutes of sitting in silence, she gently takes Todoroki’s hand and places it on his own knee. She sits up gingerly and wipes away her tears, smearing some of the blood on her cheeks instead. Todoroki watches her carefully, ready to step in if she asks for help.

‘What happened?’

Momo looks at him with sad eyes. ‘It’s just my period cramps Todoroki. I’m ok, I’ll be alright.’

Todoroki quirks a brow. ‘You’re not ok Yaoyorozu, even I can tell just by looking at you.’

Momo is about to voice another protest when the door to the stairwell bursts open. Bakugou and Kirishima walk through with vending machine drinks in their hands and stop when they spot the pair on the floor.

‘Yaomomo?’ Kirishima shouts, running towards them. Bakugou trails just behind, eyebrows furrowed.

Momo plasters a smile on her face, trying to hide her bloodied hand.

‘What happened?’ Kirishima yells, crouching down with a concerned look in his eyes.

‘I-‘

‘She said it’s period cramps,’ Todoroki interrupts. In all honesty, he never grew up around his mother or his sister, so he has limited knowledge of periods in general. But with that limited knowledge also came the lack of a stigma towards periods in general. He doesn’t think anything of talking about it.

Kirishima’s concerned look melts into one of sad understanding.

‘Oh man,’ he says, ‘that sucks Yaomomo. They’re that bad, huh?’

Momo keeps her smile in place. ‘Really, I’m fine, it’s nothing I cannot handle, I’m ok-‘

A hand, absurdly gentle, pulls her bloodied one away from where she’s hiding it. Momo startles when she sees Bakugou holding her hand, giving her a tight look. He drops it gently and sighs. With a grunt, Bakugou sits down next to her, back leaning into the wall. Kirishima sits cross legged in front of her while Todoroki sits on her other side.

‘My old hag,’ Bakugou grumbles, ‘has period pains. More like period torture, I guess. She threw up every month on the first day. She’d have dark circles from the lack of sleep, and she’d slap hot water bags to her stomach 24/7. She even burned the skin there a few times. Painkillers didn’t do shit, there were no surgical options, not even birth control made much of a dent. She’d just grit her teeth and bare it every month.’

Momo listens silently, her hands slowly unclenching.

‘My moms,’ Kirishima pitches in, ‘are pretty chill with it. Well, Mama’s get really bad sometimes, but mom is usually ok. I’ve seen them bring each other ice-cream or squeeze each other’s shoulders. They sync up a lot too! Mama would always tell me to be nicer to mom, and mom would always tell me to give mama a kiss. They’re both so manly when they battle their periods every month.’ He offers Momo a gentle smile.

Todoroki hums. ‘I admit, I don’t know much beyond the biological part of it. But from what I can see, Yaoyorozu, this isn’t very normal, is it? This level of pain?’

Momo sighs, brushing away the fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I, between my quirk and my genes, I have received the shorter end of the stick. Of course, I have looked into treatments. There’s nothing I can fix with surgery, and painkillers are usually ineffective. I have tried birth control measures, but they interfere with my quirk.’

Momo looks up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think we talk about this enough, about heroes that menstruate. I can’t stop being a hero on the days I have my period, but sometimes, I’m in so much pain I can’t see straight. I-‘ she sucks in a stuttering breath ‘-I don’t know what to do sometimes. I want to stand on equal footing with my peers.’

Bakugou scoffs. ‘You shitting me? You’re top of the class, your quirk can make fucking canons, you tutored our fuckwit classmates into not failing miserably, and you did it all through this shit? What part of that is not equal with your peers?’

Kirishima nods in agreement. ‘I mean, Mina has some cramps too, so I usually bring her hot water bags when she asks. I read somewhere that spinach is great for period health, so I make us both protein shakes with spinach and banana! She says it helps.’

‘The iron in spinach must be beneficial,’ Momo muses, her face breaking into the first genuine smile of the day. ‘I usually up my iron intake as well. It does help.’

‘You’re right though,’ Todoroki adds, eyebrows furrowed, ‘we don’t talk enough about heroes that menstruate. Plus, the fact that you can’t seem to find a way to manage your pain without it affecting your life is proof that they haven’t put much thought into it, isn’t it?’

Bakugou grunts in agreement. ‘My hag volunteers at women’s shelters and tries to raise funds for pain meds and hygiene supplies and shit. It’s ridiculous. All of that shit should be free. No one asks to have a period every month.’

‘We can change that though,’ Kirishima pipes in, always the voice of positivity. ‘Look at the four of us, talking about it! Yaomomo, I’m sorry.’

Momo blinks, ‘What for Kirishima?’

‘For not noticing! You must’ve been in so much pain all this time, huh? I’m sorry for not noticing and doing more.’

Momo feels something cold press against her arm. She looks down to see Bakugou pushing his unopened drink into her elbow.

‘Take it, staying hydrated helps with the cramps.’ He stands up and brushes his pants. ‘Think you can stand?’

Momo takes a sip of the drink, relishing the cold fizzy burn as it slides down her throat. She takes a deep breath and stands, stumbling a little before catching herself. Todoroki steadies her around the elbow.

‘Can we take you to recovery girl?’

Momo smiles warmly. ‘I’ve been already. We’ve been working together on some remedies. It’ll take time, but I hope we can come up with something.’ Momo hums. ‘I should put more work into this. I can’t be the only hero that faces such bad period pains.’

‘That’s so manly Yaomomo!’ Kirishima beams. ‘I’m kinda dumb so I don’t think I can help with the research but let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

Momo giggles into the back of her hand and they start moving towards class together. As they reach the top of the stairs another bout of cramps settles into her gut, and she clenches the railing with a white knuckled grip.

The boys stand around, guarding her, supporting her, giving her small smiles and reassuring nods. Todoroki offers her his hand again, and she quickly makes a heating pad and hands it to him, so she can continue to use it during class. Bakugou urges her to drink more water, and Kirishima keeps telling her how manly she is.

When they get to class, everyone crowds around her and she laughs softly, promising to explain everything later. The rest of the day passes by with little incident, and throughout it all, Todoroki takes the heating pad from her, heats it up and hands it back, hour after hour.

They talk about it in the dorms after class, and recounting her episode opens the floodgates for all the girls.

‘I get really bad migraines,’ Uraraka sighs, rubbing at her temples as if in anticipation. ‘It makes the nausea from my quirk even more unbearable.’

Jirou nods. ‘I get you. I have leg cramps, makes it impossible to use my legs during heartbeat surround. The speakers are too painful to use, and I’m never as stable as I’d like to be.’ She gives Kirishima a pointed look. ‘I’ll join you at the gym next time, teach me some leg moves. I want to get stronger.’ Kirishima gives her a huge thumbs up and a blinding grin.

‘My back gives out sometimes,’ Mina says. ‘I have this pain that burns in my lower back on a few occasions, it’s the worst.’

‘I don’t have a lot of physical symptoms,’ Hagakure pipes in, ‘but I do have PMS and depressive episodes. I’ve been trying to figure out a good med balance to fix it.’ All the girls nod at that, squeezing her arms and shoulders in silent support.

The teachers are brought into the loop too, and Aizawa gently berates Momo for not coming to him sooner.

‘We’re here to help,’ he says, eyes the gentlest she’s ever seen. ‘Learn to rely on your teachers more, will you? Such troublemakers , the lot of you.’

Momo makes hot packs for the girls after that, and the teachers don’t blink when one of them passes it to Todoroki in the middle of class as the boy just heats it the appropriate amount before passing it back without so much as a hiccup in his work.

Bakugou sends Momo articles and tips from his mom about pain management and dealing with cramps. He says it’s because he wants her to be in top condition when he beats her for #1, otherwise it won’t, in his eloquent words, mean jack shit. Momo tries some stuff out, happily surprised when her symptoms are even the slightest bit reduced. Kirishima offers to make them all spinach shakes, and they take him up on that every so often, complimenting his limited cooking abilities.

And on the days Momo is back on the bathroom floor heaving into the toilet, Jirou holds her hair back. Mina cuddles her on the couch when her hands are clenched as she bites back tears, and Ojiro sits by her feet, a reassuring presence to depend on if she ever needs something.

They’ve still got a long way to go as a society, but it’s a start. And a damn good one at that.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha: thicker than blood #momo yaoyorozu #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #class 1a headcanons #so today in thicker than blood #lets talk periods!#there's no talk of blood or anything #it's more about period cramps #and how period pain manifests in different but very painful ways #i've thought about this a lot you know?#like the female heroes can't just take a few days off every month on their period but they'd still be in so much pain #and in my country period products are still taxed as luxury items which is a load of fucking horsecrap #i have feelings about this because my own periods are pretty shite tbh #i just wanted to write about the boys actually caring #and having an open discussion about this #and give momo some love because she's actually great???

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

tell me how to balance my coins

Summary: When Spencer falls down the stairs one morning he decides not to tell anyone, his insecurities about not being enough winning out. Too bad insecurities don't matter when they end up trekking through miles of barren land on a search and rescue mission, and his injuries finally become too much. The team knows exactly how to make it better.

Tags: hurt!spencer, whump, hurt/comfort, hiding medical issues, insecurity, angst with a happy ending, fluff, team as family TW: self-esteem issues

Pairing: GEN / Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Set in S1 but there's no Gideon because he didn't really fit the plot, so it's just the five other field agents here. This entire fic was inspired by this post by @i-write-whump so credit goes to them for the premise! Title from this poem by Zahraa Surtee <3

Maybe it’s embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. Spencer runs headfirst into dangerous situations every day, puts his life on the line repeatedly and escapes unscathed more often than not, but his nemesis this time is the single flight of stairs in his apartment building he descends each morning.

He’s later than he usually is, and already feeling a little flustered from both his toaster and coffee machine breaking, leaving him with a cup of instant coffee and an overripe banana from breakfast, which only makes the situation worse. As if lying sprawled out in a public stairwell wasn’t bad enough. He gingerly pulls himself up, catching a glimpse of a “Caution: Wet Floor” sign he somehow missed, and winces as pain floods his body.

His ankle is screaming at him, throbbing and burning, and for a moment Spencer has to close his eyes against the gut-wrenching pain of a twisted ankle flaring up his calf. A couple of thankfully undisturbed minutes later, the pain eases enough for him to open his eyes and inspect the damage. It’s already swelling slightly, and he’s certain he’ll be covered in bruises by tonight if the aching of his entire body is anything to go by.

For a brief moment he considers calling Derek or Penelope or someone else on his team; maybe even calling in sick, but he quickly pushes that thought away. It’s not embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. It’s a good cover story to keep him from addressing the real reason, but it isn’t the truth.

The truth is that the only time he ever feels valuable is when he’s contributing to a case. That cruel voice in the back of his head will waste no time in piping up, telling him how worthless he is, what a burden his friends see him as, how insignificant he is to the team if he doesn’t suck it up and head into work.

Fighting back the tears burning hot behind his eyes with ardent determination, he drags himself up by the stair handrail until he’s upright. His ribs ache and his ankle burns something fierce, but he compartmentalises it, breathing deeply and taking a few tentative steps, one at a time until he’s limping towards the train station.

The moment he walks into the bullpen, JJ grabs his elbow. “You’re just in time, Spence,” she says, marching towards the briefing room with a pace Spencer can’t quite keep up with. “We have a new case. Rural Kentucky.”

Everyone’s already seated at the round table, and no matter how much he tries to disguise his limp, putting far too much weight on his battered ankle, he can’t get it past a room full of profilers.

“Hey, pretty boy, you alright? You’re limping.” Derek’s tone is light, carrying the cadence of joking banter, but he can see the concern in his eyes, and that’s just unacceptable. He can’t have people worrying about him: he’s not worth their pitied looks or vapid attempts at comfort, especially not when they have a far more important case to be focusing on.

He slips into a seat, and manages to conceal a wince at the movement of his ankle swinging forward. “Oh, uh, I just stubbed my toe pretty hard on the way in.” It’s not convincing even to his own ears, but luckily it’s enough of a time-sensitive case for JJ to barrel on regardless, drawing everyone’s worried glances away from him and towards the board full of grizzly crime scene photos.

Even though he’s been on the team for close to three years now, he still feels like the new kid. Elle is newer than him, but she’s still far more confident in her place on the team than he is. He suspects that’s probably because someone like Elle doesn’t have trouble fitting in anywhere. It’s never been quite that easy for Spencer.

Pushing his insecurities aside like he always has to do in these meetings, he reads the case file thoroughly before offering his own contributions. The unsub is snatching young women from bars and clubs and holding them for weeks before leaving them to succumb to the elements in the rural countryside of Kentucky. With a missing woman and the expected deadline for the unsub dumping her fast approaching, they don’t waste any time in boarding the jet and flying the short way to West Kentucky.

It’s a short enough flight that there’s no time for personal conversation — no time for Derek (or anyone else for that matter) to confront him about his blatant lie and obvious injury — since they spend the whole journey discussing the case. Thankfully, throwing himself head first into theories and hypotheses keeps his mind off the pain a bit, but he can’t fully keep it from bothering him.

He’s just thankful that he has enough experience in disguising his true emotions that no-one’s attention is drawn to him by poorly hidden winces.

They dive straight into the investigation when they arrive at the sheriff’s station, everyone laser focused on finding Marissa Williams. By mid-afternoon, though, Spencer’s gritting his teeth as he forces himself to persevere through the pain despite it increasing incrementally every hour, and he curses himself for not being able to dedicate 100% of himself to the case. If he can’t help everyone find this woman, then what is he good for? His stomach twists at the thought.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on, Spence?” Derek asks him as it approaches 4pm, cornering him at the coffee machine.

Spencer looks around as subtly as he can for an escape, but he quickly succumbs to his fate. “I’m fine, Derek,” he promises. It’s so far from the truth he wants to cry.

The concern in Derek’s eyes only intensifies at that. “Seriously? You’ve been quiet this whole case, I catch you wincing when you think no-one’s looking, and you’re still limping. A stubbed toe wouldn’t do that, kid, and you know it.”

He sighs, knowing the jig is up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Derek.” He’s not sure it’s the truth, but it’s close enough to it that it doesn’t bring burning tears to the backs of his eyes.

Derek’s about to say something when JJ calls out for him. They both turn to look at her, Spencer feeling relief flood his chest, while Derek’s expression quickly morphs into one of frustration, sighing heavily as he curls his hands into tight fists.

“This isn’t over,” he says, levelling him with a serious look before walking back over to JJ, leaving Spencer to stir his bitter coffee in peace. It definitely doesn’t make him want to cry.

They finally get a break in the case at nightfall, a call on the tip line combined with their profile leading them to a secluded wooded area down by a small river. Knowing there’s nothing more for them to do at the office, Hotch gathers them all up, insisting they join the search party to find the poor, beaten woman currently suffering exposure, awaiting their rescue.

Spencer’s heart sinks as everyone gathers their equipment, and he’s almost relieved when Derek speaks up.

“Reid can’t go,” he insists to Hotch, only barely in earshot of Spencer. If he doesn’t go out in the rescue party, then he’s still served his purpose hasn’t he? He helped with the profile that narrowed down the area she’s likely to be in, he worked the case until this point, he can rest and still be worth something. Right?

Besides, it’s not exactly like he can don the heavy walking boots everyone else is pulling on. If he goes out, he’ll have to wear the same loafers that have been squeezing his swelling joint all day, and that’s hardly going to work. Hotch will let him stay back, and for once, he’ll accept the rest he’s offered.

His hope is quickly dashed. “We need all the manpower we can get,” Hotch says, clearly distracted in the same way he has been throughout the entire case. Spencer likes his boss but he has a tendency to wear blinkers when on a job, not noticing anything that doesn’t pertain to the ultimate solution. “He’ll be fine.”

Derek sighs again, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll be fine,” he says as Derek comes over to sit with him, not sure who he’s trying to convince. His ankle is still burning in pain. The last time he checked it, it was bruised and swollen, tender to the touch. It’s nothing short of a nasty sprain.

“You stick close to me, Spencer. I mean it.”

He can’t help the small smile that crosses his face, genuine happiness warming his heart at the concerned protectiveness of his friend. “Sure, Derek,” he says softly.

The pleasant temperature of the mid-Spring day drops to almost freezing as the sun sets, the moon and stars taking over the clear night sky. Even Spencer’s thickest coat isn’t enough to keep him from practically vibrating with the force of his shivers as they trek across the miles of terrain, staying as quiet as possible to listen for anything that could indicate their victim’s whereabouts. They’re spread out a little, but for the most part they all walk reasonably close together, the beams of their torches criss-crossing as they fight their way through the windy countryside.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple of hours into the search and rescue mission that a call crackles over the radio, telling them that Marissa had been found, beaten and weak but alive. Spencer can’t even bring himself to feel any kind of victory or relief, nothing being able to penetrate the haze of pain he’s in. Everyone else chatters happily enough as they converge back together for his silence to go mostly unnoticed.

His obscurity doesn’t last long, though.

“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened to your foot, Spence?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow at Spencer’s heavy limping and Derek’s worried hovering. By the second mile of their walk, Spencer had given up trying to hide the limp, instead focusing on gritting his teeth and breathing through the pain as it flares up his leg.

She’s clearly voicing what everyone else is thinking, judging by their worried expressions. Part of him wants to give in and tell the team, but the part that wants to continue to hide his embarrassment away, the part riddled with fear and insecurity wins out. He stubbornly shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. In the kind of terrible timing so emblematic of the life of Spencer Reid, in the short second he has his eyes closed he manages to stumble into a small divot in the ground, and he trips, twisting his ankle all over again as he falls down.

His vision whites out, the pain suddenly all-consuming, punching nausea through his stomach and he can’t help the cry he lets escape as he lays helplessly in the grass.

“Spencer!”

Derek crouches next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he checks him over frantically, and Spencer can’t help but lean up into it, craving the kind of comfort he can only get from his best friend. Hotch joins them quickly as JJ and Elle stand close enough to offer support without crowding him.

“That’s it, Spencer,” Hotch says firmly, blinkers well and truly off by now, “you need to tell us what’s going on.”

As the blinding pain slowly fades into something minutely more bearable, Spencer forces his eyes open to face the team. “I fell down the stairs this morning,” he finally admits, sullen and teary. “Pretty sure I sprained my ankle.”

Hotch wastes no time in gently rolling his trouser leg up, exposing his ruined loafers and the bruised, swollen joint to the torches of his teammates. Derek audibly winces as he positions himself behind Spencer, supporting his back as his tired, aching body starts to collapse.

Hotch levels him with a stern glare after he finishes his tender inspection of his ankle. “Spencer, it was incredibly irresponsible to hide something like this. You not only put yourself in danger, but you put the rest of the team at risk, too—”

He doesn’t get any further in his lecture before the tears he’s been holding back all day, finally spill over and a dry, sudden sob, his bruised and aching rib cage heaving as he starts to unravel at the seams. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Softening immediately, Hotch puts his leg down gently and shuffles closer, taking Spencer’s hand in his. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry for yelling,” he says soothingly, watching as Spencer presses closer into Derek’s hold. “You’re not in trouble, I’m just worried about you, Spencer. Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?”

He squeezes his eyes closed again: it’s as much dignity as he can hope for when his face is crumpling and he’s sobbing on the cold, hard ground as it nears midnight. “I just… I just wanted to be worth something.” It’s an admission he’ll regret later, he already knows that, but he’s so so tired and all he wants is the comfort that only his team can provide.

Derek pulls him into an even tighter hug before anyone can react, holding him against his chest fiercely while his hand plays gently with his hair. “Spencer, you are worth something whether you’re injured or fully intact, you hear me? We’d love you with a broken leg, with a bad case of the flu, if you quit the team tomorrow and decided to never work again. But most importantly, we love you now, kid. No matter what. Nothing can change that, alright?”

“He’s right, Spence,” JJ says softly, sinking to the ground along with Elle. “I know you think we only tolerate you because of your brain and what you bring to the table on a case, but you’re so much more than that. We love your nerdy rambles and your awkward waves and the way you love so openly and protectively, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt before. We love everything about you, Spencer.”

“Yeah, if you’re hurt, Reid, we wanna know,” Elle chimes in, sounding a little hesitant as the one who’s known him the shortest amount of time, but firm in what she’s saying nonetheless. “I know I haven’t been on the team that long but this is a group of people that watches out for one another, that supports each other, that builds everyone up leaving no person behind. That includes you, Spencer Reid, even when you don’t feel like it.”

“Everyone is right, Spencer,” Hotch says softly, still holding his cold and shaking hand protectively in his gloved one. “I’m just sad that you still prioritise your work over your own health. You are not this job. You are an incredibly talented and multi-faceted person that oftentimes needs a little TLC, and until you’re willing and able to do that for yourself, we’ll be here to do it for you, okay?”

Tears are streaming down his face as he nods, feeling warmer than he has all day despite the cold dark night they’ve found themselves in. The strangest part about it all is that he’s actually starting to believe them. It’s not like they haven’t all said similar things before, but hearing them all vehemently corroborating each other’s stories, hearing it all laid out in front of him as they promise him with earnest expressions that they’re telling the truth is doing something to shift the leaden weight of insecurity and low self-esteem that presses on his chest each and every day.

“Now, come on,” Derek says. “Let’s get back to base and I’ll go with you to the hospital to get you checked out, make sure it’s nothing more than a sprain.”

He shifts behind Spencer, using his already firm hold on his waist to help gently pull him up to a standing position, taking most of his weight as Spencer whimpers at the pain that swiftly reignites at the movement.

Derek turns around and bends at the knees slightly as Spencer leans on Hotch, before looking over his shoulder, his signature grin returning. “Hop on, pretty boy.”

“What— Derek! I’m way too heavy!”

Everyone immediately breaks out in amused laughter, even Hotch chuckling fondly.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Come on, Spencer, you’ve gotta weigh what, like, 140lbs? 150? You can’t exactly walk on that ankle anymore and it’s the only way we’re getting back without calling for a search and rescue team of our own.”

“Reid, I’m pretty sure I could give you a piggy-back ride,” Elle points out, raising her eyebrows. “Just let him carry you back.”

Let us take care of you is implicit enough in everyone’s words and expressions that it doesn’t really need to be said, but Spencer hears it anyway.

Hotch helps him up onto Derek’s back and they begin the long trek towards the search and rescue base, and Spencer’s never appreciated the easy banter they all share more. Hotch is visibly relaxed with the case solved and his youngest team member soon to be taken care of, so he joins in with the conversation, his light and happy expression that he only ever wears around his family or the team on rare days and nights off, replacing his focused frown.

Spencer clings on tightly to Derek and presses his face into the space between his neck and his shoulder, closing his eyes as he listens to the conversation, the vibration of Derek’s laugh and the shameless flirting between Elle and JJ taking his mind off the pain that throbs in his ankle with each step Derek takes.

When they finally get back to base, they all gather round the ambulance that’s been designated to take Spencer and Derek to the hospital.

JJ steps forward to give him a hug first. “Love you, Spence. Let us know what they say, okay?”

Hotch surprises him by stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug as well, forgoing the macho pats on the back for a short but close embrace that feels fatherly enough for tears to prick the back of Spencer’s eyes. “We all love you, Spencer. Remember that okay. And actually listen to what the doctors tell you. Morgan, you’re my eyes and ears.”

“Well now I want a hug, too,” Elle says dramatically, squeezing him in a tight embrace for just a moment before stepping back, lining up with JJ and Hotch to present a united front of people on his side.

“We’ll see you both in the morning,” Hotch says as the paramedic starts prepping for the journey, moving Spencer onto the gurney and rolling him in.

“Hope they don’t keep you too long!” JJ calls just as the doors close, making them both chuckle.

Derek takes his hand in both of his, staying out of the paramedic’s way as she quickly places a line of mild painkillers before sitting back, knowing that there’s not anything more she can do for Spencer until they get to the hospital.

Derek must see the anxious look on Spencer’s face, because he’s quick to reach a hand out and brush his cheek gently. “Hey, I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not gonna leave you on your own, okay? You’ll be alright, pretty boy, you’re gonna be just fine. I promise.”

And on the flight home the next morning he realises that Derek’s promise was kept. He’s fitted out with a crutch and a temporary wrapping around his ankle, resting comfortably with his head in Derek’s lap while his foot sits elevated on a pile of cushions carefully built by JJ, surrounded by people who swear up and down that they love him while proving it to him in a thousand little ways, and he’s really not sure it gets any more alright than that.

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