#I'm glad he talked I was worried he'd be silent the entire event

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Saw someone jokingly say "Haha what if Pacovo hatches into a dragon?" (unlikely imo) however I've got Dungeon Meshi on the mind and my mind DID just put "Chimera Pac" into my brain, so that's a mental image I'm gonna be rotating in my mind for a while

[xpeachesncream]

2AM | one shot

summary: just like yoongi says - if namjoon wasn’t gonna act on his feelings for you, then why couldn’t you? even if that meant sliding into namjoon’s DMs.

pairing: reader x namjoon

genre: college au | sprinkle of fluff, smut

words: 3.8k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, club scene, alcohol consumption, dancing/grinding, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, breast play, hickeys, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, ass smacking, doggy style, hair pulling, headboard knocking against the wall and head to the mattress type of rough sex, pillow to the face type of loud sex, backshots, namjoon is a kind fella though and really respects you

note: i’ve been hearing namjoon is/has become people’s bias wrecker lately..... 🤪 this is for you. i’ve tried to make this as realistic and relatable as possible. pls excuse any errors!

The club was awfully packed tonight, you and your friends and a bunch of all your mutual friends tightly pushed against one corner of the club, celebrating whoever's birthday it was - you couldn't fucking remember. You were just there because you knew of the person, but your friends still dragged you out to have a good time.

And, God, you were drunk. You were having a good time. You were already drunk before the club, having pissed on the sidewalk with Yoongi covering you with his jacket while Jin pissed next to you in the alley since there were no bathrooms open to the public at this time.

"Namjoon is here!" You hear Yoongi yell and nudge you. Namjoon had always had a crush on you. You two were friends, had a lot of mutual friends, but it was nothing more of a hi and bye in passing on campus. Occasional small talk, nothing more, nothing less. But, it didn't mean you didn't think he was attractive. Standing almost at 6 ft tall, the man was buff in all the right places and had a smile that could kill from miles away. You just never pressed on it because Namjoon never pressed on it. People teased him about his silly crush on you but he never took it further. He'd call you the prettiest girl he'd ever seen on campus, leaving anonymous comments on the campus' compliment board talking about how your smile was the best one he's ever seen. Everyone knew it was Kim Namjoon. But it was just a silly crush after all, right?

Tonight though, you were thinking of doing other things. Maybe it was this dick drought you had been in, maybe it was the alcohol heightening your attraction to him. Whatever the fuck it was, you wanted it and you were down.

"Aye!" Namjoon comes over to Yoongi and Jin, giving them their daps and hugs before he makes his way over to you. "What's up, Y/N?" He pulls you into a tight hug. 

"Hey! Didn't think you'd be here." You chuckled.

"Why not? I like to have fun every so often, too." You nod. It's not like Namjoon hated going out, but he did have a preference of staying in than being at the club. He wasn't at every outing or club event. He'd make it to some if it was really important to his friends, but he'd usually skip out and he'd be teased about it the following week. You liked that about him; that he wasn't the type to be a partier or spend his free time chugging on alcohol. He was one of the smartest guys on campus who was pretty well known and he carried himself well. Dude could run for president and he’d have everyone’s votes, no cap.

"Well, I'm glad you're here."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're glad I'm here." He joked with that smile of his, dimples piercing his cheeks before he continued his rounds of hello's.

"Well, I'm glad you're here." Jin fluttered his eyelashes as he swung back and forth, mocking your tone in tiny causing Yoongi to laugh.

"Fuck off, Seokjin." You shove him.

"Why don't you finally do something about it? You know he likes you.”

"Why does it have to be me?"

"Why can't it be you?" Yoongi asked. "Does the dude always have to make a move?"

"Yeah, and besides, what if he's only doing that because he respects you and thinks you don't like him like that?" Jin butted in.

"I didn't asked to be attacked." Yoongi shrugged.

"Just saying. It doesn't have to be on Namjoon. Maybe he's waiting on you. Don't slip up, fool." He jokes as you shake your head, leading your friends to the bar for another drink to keep your drunkness alive. Yoongi orders three shots of nasty ass Jameson, but you take it anyways because he's your homeboy and the shit was free. He asks for another round, which you almost pass on but you catch sight of your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook.

"Pass it." Yoongi smirks as he passes you another shot glass. You take it to the neck with ease, deciding you'd deal with consequences later. You just wanted to have your fun.

"Hey." Jungkook wraps his arms around you, causing you to shrug him off and push his arms away.

"Jungkook, stop." You used to hate him. You really used to despise the guy, but it had gotten so tiring that you eventually got over it and moved on. You had a good relationship after all, you had a great freshman year even if you started off college in a relationship. But, he didn't want it after a year and a half. He wanted his college freedom, wanted to explore, wanted to get to know the incoming freshmen girls and transfers. So, he eventually stopped trying and that killed you.

But myyyy, have the tables turned. Jungkook wanted you back badly even though you've made it blatantly obvious you were over him.

"Dance with me tonight? You look good." He looks at you up and down, eyeing the tight mini skirt and crop top you had on.

"Maybe.” You look at him like he was crazy. “I'm busy."

"With who?"

"Not with you."

"Come on, baby. Please." Obviously drunk and out of this mind.

"Ew, don't call me that Jungkook. I am not your baby."

"Aw come on, you’ll always be though." He smiles, hugging you once more.

"You got a whole line up, remember? Stop worrying about me." You scoff as you shove him aside, making your way back to your friends.

"The fuck was that about?"

"Jungkook being Jungkook."

"He definitely wants to have his cake and eat it, too."

"Well, that's not gonna fly with me. He needs to go."

"Good. Come on, let's go dance. Maybe Namjoon will come since you don’t wanna do it. Acting all scared and shit." 

“Shut up, Yoongi. Just walk.” You laugh. Yoongi nods towards some free space, Jin already welcoming a lady friend onto his lap for a dance. You playfully dance around with Yoongi for a little before you feel him passing you off to pretty boy Park Jimin. You loved dancing with Jimin because lord knows he knew a thing or two about rhythm more than most of these men in the club. Including your friends.

Heh, just kidding.

After a song or two, the latest shots are starting to make their way through your veins, your skin feeling hot and your balance being a little thrown off. Nothing you couldn't handle though, you still knew how to compose yourself well and keep it together.

"Enjoying yourself?" You hear Namjoon come from behind you as you had been standing around by the railings, catching a breather after Jimin had broke you off to those two songs, working up a damn sweat.

"Yeah, are you?" You turn to face him as your arms hung loosely over the railing.

"I meaaaan, I think it could be better." He sips on his drink.

"Stop babysitting your drink, Namjoon." You playfully nudge him.

"I'm not babysitting, I'm just savoring this expensive drink." You roll your eyes and laugh. You watch as he takes another sip, your hand keeping his glass tilted from the end until there's nothing left for him to drink.

"There, that's better."

"You're a bad influence."

"No, I'm not."

"You are. Pretty, and a bad influence." He adds, chuckling while licking his bottom lip. It's silent for a minute as he's eyeing the crowd in front of you, watching people sloppily dance on each other or tongue each other down. Either or, everyone was drunk and feeling up on somebody.

Everyone besides you two.

"Fuck it, let's dance." He suddenly says, grabbing your hand and leading the way to the nearest empty space. He backs himself against the wall, grabbing you by the waist to throw your ass back on him. He grips you tightly as you work him, his hips moving in tandem with yours. If you weren't mistaken, you could feel this entire thing soaking your panties by the minute. The way he had taken initiative and grabbed your hand the way that he did. The way he backed himself against the wall and shoved you onto his crotch area.

You didn't know Namjoon had it in him after he had been shying away from his crush on you. Park Jimin was sliding down the dance pyramid, with Kim Namjoon quickly climbing his way to the top.

Something so innocent had turned intimate pretty quick, your body backed against his now as you slowly worked your hips to Rossi's All I Want, your hand grabbing around his neck. You felt his breath against your skin, his eyes locked on you and only you.

After a couple of dances, you turned to him, his arms still wrapped around your waist. He gave you a big, toothless smile, his dimples becoming a huge weakness for you. You being the tease that you are, gave him a kiss on the cheek before you started to pull away from his grip.

"Oh, so it's like that?" He jokes as he bites on his bottom lip, his hands slowly slipping down your wrists the more you pull away.

"I don't know, is it?"

"You tell me. Are you going to hit me up to kick it?"

"We'll see." You smirk at him before walking towards your friends, his tongue pressed against his cheek as he watches your hips sway from side to side. After tonight, you knew you wanted Namjoon and he was the goal. No if's, and's or but's.

You and your friends call it a night by the time the club is almost coming to a close. Everyone is rushing to head out and catch their Ubers, but you see no Namjoon in sight. He must have disappeared sometime during the night, and you were too busy with your friends to notice. Which, is a fucking bummer because you wanted to see him before you left, hoping it could flourish into something more than just the dances you shared with him tonight.

You just had to be a tease.

Getting home, you're a little uneasy because you're stuck on the fact that you want something more out of the night and you couldn't get that. You hesitated quite a few times, picking up your phone, then throwing it back onto your bed. Your roommate hadn't gotten home yet, the loneliness kicking in quick.

Fuck it!

You shake your head and grow some balls to hit up Namjoon to see what he was up to at damn near 2AM.

But sike, your ass doesn't even have his number.

"What the fuck, Y/N!" You groan to yourself, quickly pulling up your group chat w/ Yoongi and Jin before you change your mind.

[y/n] 1:52am: ANYBODY HAVE NAMJOON'S NUMBER???

Pure silence for the next 5 minutes.

[y/n] 1:58am: i know none of you two are getting some tonight, where tf are you!

Some more silence.

"For fuck's sake, guys." You whined as you pulled up Namjoon's IG page. Were you really gonna do this? Were you really gonna slip yourself into his DMs?

Absolutely the fuck yes.

x_ynbaby: hi

namjoooonie: :) look who it is

x_ynbaby: sorry this prob looks stupid as fuck but i just realized i didnt have your number

namjoooonie: no biggie. at least ill be able to say y/n slid in my dm's first

x_ynbaby: pls dont start

namjoooonie: how can i help you?

x_ynbaby: what are you up to?

namjoooonie: im about to get ready for bed just like you should be doing

x_ynbaby: excuse you, im grown. i can go to bed when i want lol

namjoooonie: you're grown, ey?

x_ynbaby: yeah i am

namjoooonie: cool, come show me here?

x_ynbaby: kim namjoon, what is that supposed to mean

namjoooonie: it means you come over and watch something with me that isnt pg-13, duh? take it or leave it cutie, ive got some good comedy stand-ups on my list

x_ynbaby: lol send me the address

You laughed out loud. He was so frustratingly cute that you found yourself throwing on your jacket and heading back out to grab an Uber to his place not too far from yours. His roommate was home, but he had been locked up in his room the entire time Namjoon had gotten back. He figured he was already sound asleep, so he had you quietly come up the steps, his hand holding onto yours as you tippy-toed past his roommate's door.

"Fuck, finally. What a journey." He says, shutting his door.

"You're so dramatic."

"Says the one who was like we'll see." He mocks you, batting his eyelashes and tilting his head to the side.

"Shut up. Where's your list of comedy stand-ups, huh?" He plops on his bed, patting the empty space next to him.

"Right here." He opens his macbook. "This is where all the magic happens."

"Ah, yes. The comedy stand-ups and the porn, right?"

"Yup, especially the porn." You laugh as you playfully shove him aside. He actually begins to play Dave Chapelle's Sticks and Stones, his cute laugh already erupting and echoing throughout his room. You couldn't help but laugh yourself, your body sinking closer to his. Feeling his body against yours had the heat pooling in your core, wanting more from him while you were here. "I can't believe he—" He turns to look at you, your gaze still kept on him. "What?"

"Namjoon, I know this isn't the only thing you were thinking about tonight." You say, almost at a whisper.

"It's not, but I don't wanna disrespect you in any way." He says, in typical Namjoon fashion. You shake your head, your hand on his chest as you slightly push yourself up.

"Handle me." He simply looks at you as you nod. "Handle me like you would, all bullshit aside." He hesitates a bit, his face edging closer to yours.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. We've established that we're grown, right? Show me." You say breathily. As soon as it slips your mouth, Namjoon shoves his laptop aside to wrap his strong arms around you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. He gently lays you on his bed as he keeps his lips locked onto yours. The kiss becomes messy, your tongue continuously pushing against his, the sounds of wet kisses now filling his room. You moan into his mouth as he fiddles to remove your joggers, catching a glimpse of him finally removing them and tossing it across his neatly organized room. You pulled away for a quick second to remove his shirt before he removed yours, your hands trailing down his beautiful chest.

"Fuck, taking this off." He says, aggressively unhooking your bra and throwing it off to the side to be an eyesore along with your sweats lying on the floor. You giggle as he begins to kiss down your neck and jawline, then welcoming himself to your breasts. He plays with your nipples, his thumb toying with it and gently pinching. You let out a hiss as you feel his tongue flicking around your nipples one by one, his breath causing cold air to linger on them. You watch as he begins to suck on the skin of your breasts, leaving purple-ish marks on either boob.

"Ohhhhshit." You bite onto your bottom lip, so fucking turned on by him and his ways. He makes his way down to your panties, giving your clothed clit a kiss before shoving your panties aside and licking a strip upwards. "Ahhhhh, Namjoon." You breathe.

"Uh huh?" He says, lowering his mouth onto your clit, sucking as his tongue caressed it slowly at the same time. His mouth and tongue are continuing to work in tandem while he slips in two digits, working them in and out to stretch you out.

"Yeah, like that." You moan, your hand is gripping his hair tightly as you jut your hip upwards. Namjoon does a good job holding you down, even as your high approaches. "Ughhhhhhgggfuck!" Your words mesh together as you try to jut your hips upwards once more before you feel yourself unraveling under his grip. You tremble as you coat his fingers, moaning loudly and not giving a damn about his sleeping roommate anymore.

"Shhh, my roommate." He chuckles as he towers over you, careful not to put all his body weight on yours.

"I'm sorry but, gohhhhd." You whine. "Please just fuck me, I wanna feel you." He bites onto his bottom lip, watching you twirl your tongue around his wet digits and suck on them, giving yourself a good taste of your pussy.

"Stop." He tilts his head back and shakes his head. "You're gonna make me cum just doing that."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I haven't gotten to feel you, yet. That's what." He says as he removes his beautifully long and thick hardened member from his boxers, his sweats dropping to the floor from his ankles. He pumps himself a few times before he taps it against your folds, teasing you with his tip as he slides it up and down.

"Namjoon, I swear—" You arch your back, feining for more.

"You swear, or what?" He asks playfully, his tip the first to slowly enter inside of you. Your breathing hitches the deeper he goes in, literally having you question whether or not you were gonna be able to take him. "You okay?" You nod silently as you try to position yourself comfortably on him, Namjoon letting out a small groan as he feels you fully envelope him from wall to wall. He starts slow, making sure you were comfortable before he begins to pick up his pace. You grip the sheets as he begins to get aggressive with you, his headboard endlessly knocking on his wall.

He apparently doesn't give a fuck about his roommate either. And here he was, shushing you.

You begin to moan his name loudly, feeling the high approaching you once again.

"Y/N." He whispers, chuckling. He [politely] throws his pillow onto your head, signaling for you to hold onto it and scream into it if need be. Which, you do. "Fuuuck Y/N, you're so hot." He moans under his breath as his thrusts are fast, the sound of skin pounding against skin bouncing off of his walls.

"Joon, I'm cumming again." You moan into the pillow as he slows his thrusts for you, letting out breathy moans as he feels you constricting around him.

"Turn around." He says, you quickly obeying, shooting your ass up with your face down. You wiggle your ass onto his dick, causing him to slightly hiss. He inserts his tip in but allows you to sink onto him yourself. "Godddddamn." He moans as you begin to move your body up and down on his dick, cream lathering the top of it like icing. He gives your ass a good smack, the heat pooling to the area quickly. One hand grips your hips, while the other grips your hair and slightly tugs on it as he takes control and thrusts into you.

"Fuck! Namjoon." You groan as he pulls your hair. Your ass is bouncing off of him, the pain turning into pleasure. Your mouth is agape, no sounds being able to escape as he pounds into you.

"Shit Y/N, I'm gonna cum. Where do you want me to cum?"

"Backshot." You simply say, Joon fully understanding. With the last couple of thrusts, you find yourself constricting around him again, body getting weak and trembling back down into the sheets. His hand pushes your head into the mattress while the other pulls out and pumps his hardened dick, lathering your back in his load. You feel him almost collapse onto you, his hand holding onto your hip as he regulates his breathing.

"Fuck, I am so sorry." He says, grabbing a tissue to wipe your back.

"Why are you sorry?" You laugh as you turn over afterwards.

"It just makes me feel bad, I feel like I'm marking my territory or something."

"I meaaaaaaan." You say, Namjoon's eyes going straight to your breasts.

"Agh fuck, Y/N." He says, feeling bad as he slips on his clothes before handing you yours.

"It's not a big deal.

"I just want you to know that I do value you more than just my territory or whatever that means." He shakes his head. "Fuck, I just mean I value you more than that, okay?" You giggle.

"You're fine, Joon." He smiles toothlessly as he nods, feeling accomplished having gotten his point across.

"So, more comedy stand ups?"

"Boy, you wore me out. I'm going to sleep."

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back, gonna grab us water. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you." You smile as he shuts his door. You check your phone from your night stand seeing that your friends had finally texted you back.

[yoongi] 2:47am: woops, shit hahahah did you still need it?

[yoongi] 2:47am: and fuck off ok, what if i was getting some?

[jin] 2:49am: he's not. we're not. we just finished playing phasmaphobia thats why we responded late

[yoongi] 2:49am: youre an ass kisser seokjin

[jin] 2:50am: i think y/n is already at namjoons

[yoongi] 2:51am: better tell us about it tomorrow bro @ y/n

[jin] 2:52am: have fun be safe

[y/n] 3:30am: you guys get home from the club and play phasmaphobia? thats why you guys get none

[jin] 3:31am: r u at namjoons or not, this wasnt even about us

[y/n] 3:32am: yes and just got dicked down like the world was ending tomorrow

[yoongi] 3:33am: .........

[yoongi] 3:33am: .......................

[jin] 3:34am: 'whyyyyy does it have to be me' she said

[jin] 3:34am: dick mustve gotten your tongue now

[y/n] 3:35am: Error: 404. This number could not be reached at this time. Try again later.

[jin] 3:36am: lmfao weak, you'll hear from us later today missy

You chuckled to yourself as you heard Namjoon nearing the door. Suddenly, you hear another door open, his roommate's voice faintly echoing in the hallway.

"Dude, can you and your girl be any louder?"

"Sorry Hobi, I thought you were asleep."

"That's the thing, I was." Namjoon laughs.

"Oh shit, my bad. We'll keep it down next time." You watched as he nodded before closing the door. You laughed silently as he handed you a water bottle, scooting himself next to you.

"Yeah Namjoon, be quiet next time."

"Me? You had a pillow and you were still loud."

"Not my fault. Didn't even know you had it in you." You teased.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" He scoffed before gently tickling you.

"It's just, I thought you were forgetting about your little crush on me."

"Want me to show you again?"

"I'm sleep, bye." You laughed as you turned over, your ass comfortably touching his leg while he laid next to you and watched his show.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter eleven - “there’s a reason behind everything”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2k

synopsis: bucky and y/n endure an event of stressful affliction, followed by something... entrancing.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

It had been a few days. There hadn't been any more headaches or vomiting. He was glad that Y/N faced no more impediments after that. However, he can't say the same for himself.

The thrashing was violent, his limbs wrenching, muscles tensing. The sheet beneath him was damp from cold sweat. He hadn't had a nightmare this bad in a while.

Ghastly memories assaulted him, ripping him from reality and forcing him back into agony, torture, and trauma. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, but he wasn't sure if that was in the nightmare or real life. The lines of reality and dreamscape faded. He couldn't tell if he was awake, and panic metastasized throughout his body.

His arms were strapped down - yes, two of them. He couldn't tell if the other was metal or not; the only thing he could register was that he had zero control. He was exposed and helpless and right back where he was before. He had never gotten out. Hydra still had their chains around his neck, choking the humanity out of him, and violating his autonomy to make a monster out of a man.

He felt like a caged animal. All there existed was terror; he needed to get out and he didn't care if he had to cut off a body part to do it. He jerked his body and pulled his arms as hard as he could. He thrashed and thrashed, desperately trying to somehow find a way out of this hell. He tried to scream but his lungs were frozen, cracked and collapsed from the ice that they defiled him with.

Every nerve in his body was ignited, screeching to try to escape. The only coherent thought in his head was "get out." Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get—

The top of his head suddenly burned, pain radiating out in beats, like a heart rate. It was then when he realized he was awake. It was then when he realized he had flung himself up, causing his head to collide with the wooden slats of the top bunk. It was also at this point when he heard her voice.

"Bucky!" her voice shook intensely, worry bubbling from the back of her throat. "Oh my god."

Faintly, the fear in her voice registered somewhere in the back of Bucky's brain, but this had no effect on his entirely overstimulated nervous system. His reaction was visceral; he flinched hard, jolting away from Y/N and falling off the side of the bed. The floor was cold; he could feel it in his hand and knees as he knelt on all fours (all threes?) trying to catch his breath.

Y/N hurried around the bed and immediately dropped to the floor in front of him. Her hands were quivering in front of her, completely unsure of how he would react to being touched.

His eyes were glued to the floor beneath him, but in his peripheral he could see Y/N's legs. Suddenly, she knelt on her hands, trying to be as non-threatening as she could.

"Buck," she whispered. "It was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. You're here, and you're just fine."

"Fuck," he whispered. His body was on fire; he wished it'd just calm down.

"Your hand's on the floor. What does the floor feel like?" she asked, in an attempt to detour his attention.

"Cold," he strained.

"Cold, yeah," she said. "Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"It's because it's made of stone. Stone has a high thermal conductivity, which means it allows heat to flow through it quickly. The heat from your skin goes right into it and flows through really fast."

He pivoted his wrist slightly, smoothing the skin on his hand over the stone, feeling the cold, and thinking about what Y/N said.

She smiled slightly. "There's a reason behind everything, you know. An explanation."

"Even for this?" he asked, referencing the panic.

"Especially for this. What are you feeling right now?"

"Can't breathe."

"Yep. Okay, that's normal, too. That's your nervous system. It's really riled up right now because you're stressed. See, your body has a natural response to stress called the fight or flight response. It's supposed to be used in the wild to run from a predator or something, and you can imagine how engaging and intense that would be on your body," her voice was calm and steady. "The only thing is, your body is going through those same functions and feelings when you're not out running from a lion or something, trying to fight for your life. Instead, you're here. You're sitting on the floor and you're here with me. You're not in any immediate danger. We're fine."

He nodded, still looking down, still trying to compose himself. He couldn't look her in the eyes once he realized his face was wet from tears. He was acutely embarrassed. Be that as it may, she was helping. What she said made sense. It helped to understand just what his body was doing rather than simply trying to survive through it.

Suddenly, directly where his eyes were cast, a drop of crimson appeared on the floor; it dripped down from him. It was then when he registered the sharp ache in his nose and the warm, wet feeling around it. Blood.

"Bucky, there's- blood, are you okay?" The calm in her voice was muffled by worry.

"Y-Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. It's just my nose..."

"What can I do?"

"Can you just... keep talking?"

"Yes," she breathed, the calm returning with infinite softness. "So, there are a few divisions of the nervous system. First, you have the central nervous system and the peripheral nervous system. Then, from the peripheral, you have the somatic and autonomic systems. And then from autonomic, you have the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems. Those are what you're feelin' right now. Your sympathetic is what gets you ramped up - you know, increases in heart rate, breathing, sweating. And then your parasympathetic is what calms you down, so slowing your heart rate and breathing and so on. Your sympathetic activated the fight or flight response, and your parasympathetic is trying to rein you back in... I hope that makes sense."

"It does."

"You know the hormone that gets released during all this?"

"Adrenaline's the only one I can think of."

"There you go!" she smiled. "It comes from the adrenal glands."

"Can I get those removed, then?"

"Unfortunately not. Do you still have your tonsils?"

"Nah, got those taken out forever ago."

"Appendix?"

"I think I still have that one?"

She laughed. "Well that's good. The appendix is sorta kinda part of the lymphatic system."

"The what?"

"Er- immune system I mean."

"Never knew that," he commented.

"There's a reason behind everything, you know," she quoted herself endearingly.

"An explanation," he said, completing the sentiment and finally looking up.

Upon seeing his face, Y/N  tried to hide her shock and concern, but he noticed. The apprehension was clear. He didn't want to be pitied; he wished he would've just suffered through this alone in a hole or something.

"There you are," she whispered.

Her voice was so gentle that his chest almost cramped, and then his entire body softened. Never mind. He'd much rather stay.

"Here I am."

She reached forward, ever so delicately, and smoothed the pads of her thumbs along his cheeks, effectively wiping away the tears. Effectively removing the physical aftermath of his pain.

She gave a strained smile. Why did he feel bad?

"Stay here," she instructed before getting up.

He'd do nothing but comply.

She came back with a damp white cloth, returning to her kneeling position in front of him.

"Here," she breathed, putting the cloth up to his nose.

He reached up to grab it, but her hand pulled away.

"I got it," she reassured.

He wasn't about to allow her to clean up his mess. This was pathetic enough as it was; he was pathetic enough as he was. She didn't need to tend to him out of obligation.

He insisted. "No, it's okay. I can do it."

"Bucky, let me help. Please."

"You don't have to. Seriously, it's fine."

"I know I don't have to - I want to. I want to help. Please just let me help."

He found he wasn't very good at saying no to her. He nodded silently, closed his eyes, and leaned his head forward. She got to work, gently dabbing the cloth to his blood stained skin, blotting the red, erasing the damage.

"You know," she said, a slight inflection in her voice as a result of her concentration. "I think you accidentally hit yourself in your sleep. I think that's why you're bleeding. 'Cause your head hit the top bunk, not your face."

"I'm really that talented, huh?"

She snickered. "Very. I don't know if I could manage such a feat."

"No, if you had nightmares, you'd probably just know exactly what each one meant and adjust your subconscious so you weren't afraid anymore."

She leaned back, an amused but shocked expression on her face, eyebrows raised, head tilted. Then she laughed.

"Look at you. Came for my neck with that one."

"I was just joking-"

"I know," she chuckled, leaning back in to continue her diligent work, "don't worry. I thought it was funny... even though it was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Bucky, I wish I had that much control. I know the brain, but I can't work with mine that well. I'm only good at working with other people's."

He smirked. "Nah, I still think you could."

"Well, you have too much faith in me."

He couldn't think of a response to that. He had become decently distracted by the warmth radiating from her. She was so close. He thought back to what she said about heat conductivity, and briefly wondered how fast her warmth might transfer to him. What would happen if he just... opened his eyes-

Big mistake. He nearly drowned in the color, the depth all consuming. He hadn't noticed her movements stopped. She held the cloth at her chest, waiting. There were mere inches between them.

"Hi," she whispered, the ends of her mouth turning up ever so slightly.

He didn't think his body had ever been so still. He returned the smile all the same.

"Hi."

"What are you thinkin'?"

He could see every detail on her face. It made him equal amounts nervous and giddy. He never really thought about the number of eyelashes an average person had, but he became suddenly interested in counting each one of hers.

"I don't... I don't know..."

"You don't know? Well, it looks like there's at least a couple of hefty thoughts swirlin' around in there."

He did have a thought. Well, more of a question. What would happen if he glanced at her lips? What would happen if he just leaned in?

"Yeah... yeah, there may be a few."

When she didn't respond, her eyes bore into him, and dear lord, he felt bare. Eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. But lovely. Oh, so lovely. And then that thing started to happen again: when time got lazy and the world felt slow. The room was without a sound. The only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and maybe some of hers, too. It's as if they were in a trance.

Then, that thought returned. What would happen if he just leaned in?  Rationally, he knew he shouldn't try to find the answer to that question. Nonetheless, curiosity beckoned him. Had the space between them become smaller? He couldn't tell. Not even an inch of their skin was touching the other, but every sensation and perception was so overwhelming, he thought his brain might fizzle out.

She was just so, so close. He was frozen, and never wanted to move again. She was so close, until suddenly she wasn't. Until suddenly, the trance stopped, time caught up, and the world began to move once more. Until suddenly, Y/N's serene smile disappeared, and she leaned back, awkwardly clearing her throat.

"Does your nose hurt? I can see if I can come up with a makeshift icepack or something."

"Uh, no. No, it's fine. I don't even feel it..."

He wondered which feeling he was denying.

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie

[dyker-farmer]

More bro fic.... angst fodder kind content.

Take that can away if you can

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event- not 10, jesus-, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

I also put it on Ao3.

[[MORE]]

A bitch bastard man and a bitch walk into a room... Chapter 1/2/3/4

"I think we should talk about this."

If the room was stifled before, this just causes the pin to drop, and the relative lull to shatter with it. I don't want a storm, but we can't pretend the sea's a slightly oversized pond if we want him not drowning in it- again, my mind supplies, unhelpful.

He's zoning out again, blurry eyes pointedly off me, preferring the turned-off TV.

Let's start easy. "Why did you come here, Shane?"

"I-I-" It sounds like an excuse building up and it bubbles out like a shaken can, "I don't- I shouldn't have-" he goes to up and leave, and we just can't have that.

I scrape my chair closer and grab his shoulder, same as before. Hopefully it's more placating than caging. "No, you should have. You did good. Seeking out, remember?"

He doesn't answer but stills.

"Like Dr.Campbell and Harvey said." I try again.

"Yeah… Yeah." Deep breathing. "I. Don't know." He searches for my face, not quite past the nose. I nod, ushering him on. "It's. Stupid." I frown and my eyebrow goes higher than before and he immediately doubles down. "I know- positiv' reinforchment and all that shit! But… It's hard." A tired hand wipes the most of moisture off his face, before it goes back to wriggle with the other on his lap. "It's so fuckin' hard. Didn't even last two seasons!-"

I cut him off. "Two seasons is a lot! One and a half too. Last time, you'd tried to go cold turkey on the spot. We know what that got us." Sea foam in the mouth and a shared cold in the early spring, on top of a Joja lawsuit. "Shit's hard, like you said. You lasted one and a half this time. Next time-"

"Why the fuck do you always think there's gonna be a next time."

This time, I still. My laidback demeanor mirror his, but so does the cold anger creeping in and tensing both our backs.

"Because. There is going to be a next time. And another after that. And another. Same way there's been next times before this one now."

What's left unsaid we don't touch.

All irritation floods from him like it's just pointless to keep it in anymore, and his forehead goes to thunk softly against the wooden surface he leaned on before. The table muffles his next words a little.

"I can't… keep doing that." I don't peep. "I can't keep rolling back down and then up and down, and up, and down. I- I just can't, Garcia- Uidel-"

"I'll drag you there." I shrug.

"But you shouldn't have to!" His voice raises and make the boards vibrate where his skin's still pressed. "You shouldn't have to-to fuckin'-" he sniffles, the following words drowned out in held-back sobs. "Fuck damn it, you- I said I- I wouldn't be a burden anymore!"

He's crying out loud now, open sorrow and no walls left. Out of all the things you could stick on the not-so amiable man sulking straight from bed to Jojamart to Stardrop Saloon to bed, you probably wouldn't think of "extreme scare of bothering anyone". Yet it's all here in how he collapses silently in the mattress, wake without a sound, keep his head down the whole time he crosses town, tries to merge himself in the fake-nice blue of the shelves at work, then corners himself right between the chimney and the bar on Emily's side, stuck in-between two sources of warmth that can never touch him unless he swings one way or the other. And he doesn't a lot, still keeping to himself strictly. You probably wouldn't think either of how dreamy he gets, hidden in his alcove but seeing everything from there.

When Harvey nerds out about classical, jazz and electro swing music down the bar to me, trying to catch me up on my fuzzy memories of arts history and the implications of breaking codes in the tempo and the leisure of each instruments; of how each note gets a specific response from the brain if done right, and can make up for caffeine deprivation in miraculous ways, when there are no more chances to push back the dread of midterms season at doctor school.

When Elliott, boisterous and drunk, arm-on-arm with an equally inebriated Leah, calls out to the whole place to hear out his latest soliloquy, and drags on the words too much, but with a voice that carries it well, all flamboyance and no limits, as his hair floats around him in a crown and he reigns over the room like a kind lion- Description all intoxicated words from your chicken man truly, not mine. I always get too caught up in the pendulum of Leah's braid and her crooked smile to quite appreciate his theatrics. But the recital rings clear, and everyone applauds the performance- because hey, you applaud a drunk guy showing off the prowess of not tripping a single word in a ten minutes tirade, but also because it really is that good! Everyone, even Shane, whose hands zipped to under his armpits the moment our eyes crossed and I met his pink cheeks with a clairvoyant smile.

Hey, what can I say. Dude's a sapiosexual. Hence why we'll never and cannot bang. That, and, uh, the being lesbian thing.

But all this is closed off and not for anyone to see behind see-through fogged windows, like those kitchen cabinets, when you can make out the piled plates all resting against the cold surface precariously, bound to crash and shatter the moment you open them.

It took a good wrecking ball of a fake-oblivious polite faced stranger and my incessant, hot pepper poppers-powered pestering, to even just crackles the glass.

The rest was all done out of his own volition. He can't see that because alcohol is a depressant, and guzzling it down leads to blurry concepts made softer always and pretty much lush in brain, and when he's off the thing, and that's rare, he instantly goes from not there to thinking he's everywhere, soiling everything and giving nothing.

His sobbing doesn't relent, and he whimpers issues of "trustworthy sack of shit", "not being worth the fucking shrink's money", "not being worth his aunt's troubles", "not being worth Jas". At some point he goes to grapple with his hair, and tugs brusquely once, then twice, then I have to reach for his wrist to make him stop, which he snatches back as soon as I make contact. But he doesn't grab anything to pull or pinch or punch again, so that's good. I stay on standby beside him, but don't touch him. He rasps more condemnations, struggles to breathe enough through the phlegm spreading in his respiratory system, and I start reenacting the steps to stop a hyperventilation in my head, and the first aid for choking, when he begins to cough violently, his entire frame upset with the movement.

He takes the tissue box i nudge with insistence toward him, and ends up spitting mouthfuls of mucus mixed with some bile in the basin under his feet. Most of it is clear and smells of fruits, not beer, so I'm not too worried. When I go to stabilize him by taking his shoulders, he grasps at my wrists to stop me- but let them stay here, while he clings. The tremors get to me now, and I remind myself that this is good, this is before the cliffs and him finding refuge to burst open, not glassily stare at the weeping clouds as he blabbers on the meaninglessness of his life.

This is… very alive.

I ought to be glad.

I let him come down at his rhythm, counting the pulses of his wrists as I feel mine numb with the blood circulation slowed down under his hold.

When he's back with a mind, I count to three, then let go. His arms flop back down, on his lap and hands dangling between his tighs. He blows his nose again.

"I'm so pathetic…"

"Yeah sure, and I'm a serial prom queen."

Instead of jabbing back and forth, we get interrupted by a soft mewling. Both of us turn to the door, that's opened slightly to let in Eryza, the pitter-patter of her paws on the stone flooring the only sound for a moment…

As we both stare in revulsion at her jaw, a single line of vomit dripping of it.

Shane puts his head down in shame, not even having the strenght to hide further.

"Sorry."

"Nah, 's okay. She's already trash, anyway."

Eryza edges closer and rapidly tour around our legs- going back to Shane's feet twice, her whiskers tickling his exposed ankles. Purring loudly, she completely ignore my chastizing as I threaten to make her diet periwinkle-based to counter-act her literal potty mouth, and she scampers to do who-knows-what in the rooms.

"Your vibes are rancid, do you hear me?? Rancid, girl!" I call after her. "I swear to Yoba, Shane, your aunt might as well have brought me a raccoon."

Turning back to him, I can see the short-lived humor of the situation was, well, short-lived. I sigh.

It's late. We're both tired. Tomorrow is sunday. It's cool. We've got time.

I don't sit back down right away. First, I put a hand down on the nape of his neck, that slides to the top of his scalp, right where he'd tug. My quota, remember?

He sniffles some, a few teardrops make their way to the planks, unheard. We stay like this for a moment.

He doesn't shake me off, but in the slow tandem his body takes, rocking lightly from back to forth, I can tell it's enough, for now.

I sit back down on my chair.

I lean on the hand I'd put in his dark purple strands before, smelling cedar wood and pine trees. I don't assume. My farm has plenty of those to stumble through. And even if he went back to the cliff, another time again. I do that too. With my own cliffs back at not-home, but close. There's a sense, in staring down what couldn't take you.

Like visiting a scene crime that you've narrowly escaped from. And pride too. And the thrill of asking- "what if again? What if this time?"- and okay, I can see why it'd be worrying to have him go there a thrice time on his own late in the evening.

But last time was fine, the one before was made fine, and he might need a bitch for a friend right now, but not a watchdog.

His forehead is back against the table.

Three fingers massage my temple. I don't know how much he'll even remember tomorrow, but it's worth the try, always.

"Shane, dude, look at me." He doesn't.

"Dude."

Still doesn't budge. I knock the wood lightly.

"Yo, punk, my eyes are up here." I joke.

He snorts, or maybe he sniffles, and his chin's now resting on the table, peering through the forgotten drinks to watch me. His hands are hidden, probably still clutching his midsection. If I went on a rollercoaster toasted, I'd probably look the exact same.

"I told you before that you literally couldn't be a burden."

He snorts for sure this time, derisive. I knock wood again. "Don't look away from me when I talk, young man. Rude ass punk."

"Bitch." He throws.

"Bitch bastard man." I send back. "Anyways, as I was saying. If I choose you're my dumb of ass to keep around, that's me, that's my decision. You can't burden me if I choose the hard mode package and roll with it. So stop it. I literally told you before, it's not about you not making efforts or burdening people, it's about people who want to deal with you, out of free will."

"Freaky."

"Oh shut up, you dramatic himbo wannabe."

"A what now?"

"Internet slang. Gotta admit you're closer to a dad bod type, but the energy's here, according to many."

He shuffles, self-conscious. "Y'don't need to remind me…"

"Oh hush you, you're perfectly fine. And Elliott would eat his dumb little lobster and pomegranate toasts off that belly if you'd grow out of your own shell and let him."

He sputters unintelligibly, red as a fecking pepper. Good. Flustered is better than self-depreciating.

But now he's pulled on his hood and the strings all the way out, and resumes to chanting me to fuck off, so that might be a good call for a break.

"I'm gonna change and clean up, you need anything? Do you think you'll go back to the ranch, or stay here for the night?" It's happened before, but you can count them on the fingers of one hand.

A long silence follows and I allow myself a quick look in the mirror. Yeah, we're skipping a shower tonight, but the simple hairbrush will not do. I look like a bird's nest that the birds fought in to know who'd keep the children when bird 2 takes off and bird 1 is left to mourn the empty space that'll never fill up the same again and the good times that won't be- wow, trauma lane much, not now, cowpal. First we buckle up our current rodeo. I walk back to the main room, now pajama-clad.

"I've got the beds for the possible kids up there, don't ask me why Robin put so many there, we're two people in a house, and I can lend you a Tee if you want."

He's anxious, chewing his thumb. "Emily won't mind?"

"She's out, sleeping at Haley's tonight. Girls' night and sisters catching up. It's important for her energy flow and karmic balance. Plus, you know she wouldn't mind, she likes you."

That makes him blush more, covering up the alcohol damage enough. I take note, but don't comment. Things for later. They pile up tonight.

"I- I can't go back to the ranch like this."

"You could. Marnie knows better than act as if you're doing this for fun, now. She'd have to understand. But you don't have to." I reassure him when agitated pupils jump up to me. Let's keep that ongoing panic attack at bay. "Either way, I won't mind."

I sit back. Stretch my arms between us. Catch his worrying hands into mine. Give him a squeeze. Tense appendages don't squeeze back, but don't pull back either. That's half a win. He stops torturing the poor things, and unfold with visible effort, like a crumpled up paper flower put on water. His head shakes, and I can't tell if it's conscious, him speaking with himself or trying to shake off a thought, or just a reflex. He visibly forces his shoulders to relax.

"I'm… not bothering you?" Righteous. Seeking vocal positive reinforcement, like a pro.

"Nope." I pop out the 'p'.

"... I think I'll, uh, stay for tonight."

My hands shoot into the air. "Woo! Sleepover, baby!"

I don't catch his hands curling back on themselves, trying to capture that leftover warmth in the late summer night.

--- to be continued.