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knapptapp · 2 years ago

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Your Nothing Without Me Pt.1

Simon "Ghost" Riley either really really hates something or he really really loves it. There is no in-between. It's just such a shame you happened to catch his attention.

Yandere! Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2,916

Warnings: Original Characters Yandere Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Horror toxic Toxic Ghost Yandere Simon Ghost Riley Murder Kidnapping Stalking Obsessive Behavior No use of y/n

A/N: This is my first ever x reader fic! It's kind of rushed but skskks

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46432570

He thought that maybe you knew. That you couldn't actually be this stupid and unaware. Despite his military training he truly wasn't being all that sneaky. Part of him wanted you to know. Wanted you to turn around. He wondered if you would scream. If you would try to run? Maybe you would trip? Fall straight to the floor as he slowly walked towards you like in all those slasher movies you loved?

But much to his dismay, you don't turn around. You continue your way down the street. Stiletto heels hitting the concrete as you stumbled your way home. Maybe you would fall after all. You were drunk that was for sure. Your friends had left you alone to find your own way home. Ghost hated your friends. They were always abandoning you, and even if you never noticed or cared Ghost did. They didn't deserve you. Ghost would never leave you drunk and alone.

It was too dangerous for someone like you. Who knows what could be lurking around the corner?

So he followed you. Under the mask of the night you didn't even notice. You didn't hear the sound of his combat boots hitting the sidewalk just mere feet behind you. He was naturally a light stepper but he wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was behind you.

You trip and tumble to your knees, rough concrete ripping through your tights and into your palms. You cursed at yourself and tried to push yourself up. You only got one knee up before a hand is gripping your upper arm and pulling you up onto your feet.

You turn your head only to be met with a clad black chest. You tilt your head up to see just who the hell currently has your arm in an iron grip. But you move too fast and it sends your world spinning and out of focus. You squint your eyes and you can just make out well nothing. As your eyes come into focus you realize you are staring at a rather tall man with a skull for a face.

Well not a skull, you squint through your drunken haze, but rather a skull mask. And your first thought is you somehow died on your walk home and are now face to face with the Grim Reaper. Your second thought is this strange man is grabbing you and you are in danger.

Your heart rammed against your ribs and the adrenaline that pumps through you is enough to sober you up just enough to realize your situation. His hand gripped your arm harder and you can't find it in you to pull away, all you can do is stand and stare back into his piercing brown eyes.

You freeze like a deer in headlights. Forgetting about your voice and the pepper spray in your purse.

Your chest rose and fell quickly with short bursts of breath. And just when you're about to pull away, almost as quickly as it grabbed you the hand is leaving. And the man is turning on his feet and walking away from you without a word.

You make it home eventually and collapse in your bed, forgetting all about your encounter. You didn’t even bother closing your blinds.

You fall asleep, completely dead to the world.

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You go about your day with nothing but a slowly fading hangover. The three cups of coffee you snuck when your manager wasn't watching were at least doing something. You had woken up late and had a little less than five minutes to rush your way to the cafe you worked at.

A few more accidentally messed up orders and you would be perfectly fine. It was relatively unbusy for a Sunday morning, it wasn't like there was a line out the door. A few messed-up orders were no big deal.

It was a quiet place really. Even on the busiest days. Most of the people coming in and out of The Coffee Dove were regulars whose order you knew by heart.

Quiet and cozy with a dark interior. With rustic hanging lights and cozy chairs, it attracted bookish types of people. Bookshelves lined the walls and left the cafe smelling like old books under the thick scent of coffee.

Although the cafe conformed to a certain aesthetic it really didn't affect the hiring process at all. YOu had a wide array of coworkers from all different sorts of styles and aesthetics.

“Omg?!” Your coworker, Angelica exclaimed. One hand flew to your arm and pulled you towards her.

She was staring down at your arm with wide eyes, a manicured hand over her mouth. You followed her eyes to see what she was so shocked about. There, on your upper arm, was a rather large bruise. She placed her own hand over it, Her slim fingers didn't even cover the width of it. Her bright pink nails are a striking contrast against your bruised skin.

“Who the hell grabbed you?!”

You pull away from her to examine the bruise yourself. It was large and when you placed your own hand over it darkening and slightly purple was still very visible.

“I don't know,” You muttered, feeling quite self-conscious. You hadn't even noticed the bruise in your rush to get ready. You don't remember much of last night either. You knew you must have fallen on your hands and knees. When you had pulled your tights off in the morning the ripped material was stuck onto your skin with dried blood and some asphalt and tiny little pebbles were embedded into your skin. But you don't remember getting grabbed.

“Must have fallen or something.” You shrug it off.

Angelica doesn't seem convinced. You wish you had brought a jacket or something to cover it up, but it was a good 98 degrees outside and even though The Coffee Dove had AC you were still hot.

Thankfully the doorbell rings signaling the arrival of a customer. Angelica moves on to greet them in her honey-sweet customer service voice. You don't bother looking up, too busy rearranging the pastries in the counter display.

You almost look up at the sound of a gruff accented voice ordering tea but another voice much closer to you steals your attention.

“Hey!”

You look up. There, leaning on the counter, beaming down at you is Connor.

“Connor!” You exclaim, you quickly stand up and lean over the counter to hug him. He returns the hug laughing into your hair.

Connor was

You pull away and smile at him. He smiles back, the corners of his eyes creasing ever so slightly.

“Did you already order?” You ask.

Connor shakes his head, a small tuft of brown hair falling against his forehead. “Thought you could make it for me? You always make it perfect.”

He tilts his head to the left. And just like a puppy dog, you can't resist.

“Are you normal then?”

“Yes Ma’am!”

You roll your eyes. Connor was only two years younger than you but he still insisted on calling you, ma’am. Probably because it annoyed you. You whip up his order in no time. When you go to hand it to him his hand grabs your wrist and he leans in close.

“What's with that creepy guy in the corner?” He whispers.

He tilts his head to the side as a gesture and you look. There sitting in the very corner of the cafe is a man, a black balaclava covering his face. He looks uncomfortable, slightly cramped in the cafe's chairs. His legs are too long to fit under the dark oak table so he has pushed his chair back.

“He's just a customer?” You say.

“Yeah, but he's just… sitting there.”

Angelica leans in close to you two, completing a conspiring triangle, “I gave him his tea five minutes ago and haven't even taken a sip.”

You roll your eyes. Angelica loved conspiring.

“Probably just waiting for it to cool down.” You place Connors's cup down and move on to pretending to work, “Or you know Angelica did make it. I bet it's horrible.”

Angelica takes it in stride, “You know he did have a British accent, you should make him tea. Since apparently, mine are so bad.”

“Not like he could drink it with that mask on,” Connor replies.

You take a rag and wipe down the already clean counter. Anything to look like you aren't in fact gossiping about a rather creepy guy in the corner.

You shake your head, he's probably not creepy. Just some guy here for some tea. Connor watches many true crime documentaries.

“But he likes-” Connor pauses and looks over his shoulder, “He keeps looking over here.”

“He’s admiring your beauty, Connor,” You tease.

Connor smirks but still manages to look uncomfortable, “I think he might rob us. Do I look rich?”

Alright, thats it. You throw the rag in the sink and exit through the swinging half door. You make your way across the cafe towards the man determined on showing your friends that nothing is wrong.

He doesn't even look up when you approach, too busy staring at the new eco-friendly cups The Coffee Dove had started ordering. Horrible they were, they fell apart too easily. Not to mention the straws. A small price for the planet you, suppose.

You pause, waiting for him to acknowledge you and look up. He doesn't. So you say, “Is everything to your liking?”

He looks up then. Brown eyes staring you down, his gaze makes you uncomfortable and you slightly regret even coming over here. He's looking at you like you just insulted his entire family. He finally nods, the smallest tilt up of his chin.

“Alright, Well, I'll just be behind the counter then,” You scurry back to the counter. You can't shake the feeling that those eyes are still staring you down. The feeling doesn't leave until three minutes after your shift when that man also leaves.

Connor hangs around until the end of your shift, goofing around and getting in the way. But it makes the time go by faster and before you know it your shift is over. He walks you to the door. He tries to insist on walking you home you refuse, saying you have things to do. When you both finally do leave he kisses your cheek goodbye. Something he has done countless times before but this time it feels different. It spreads fire from where his lips softly pressed against your cheek to all the way down your toes. It leaves you walking home with a smile on your face.

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It isn't the first time Ghost watched you. But it is the first time he entered the Cafe you worked at. Usually, he would just sit inside his car parked across the street. It was amazing how far phone cameras could zoom in nowadays. But here he was. Sat in the far corner with untouched tea. He was hoping you would make it. But your coworker had instead. He wasn't going to take even a sip.

Despite this little hiccup, he was having a rather great time seeing you this close-up. That was until your friend showed up. Hugging you and making you laugh. The way you smile at him made Ghost sick to his stomach. It was quite obvious you were all talking about him, but Ghost didn't really care all that much.

He was too distracted by imaging crushing Connors face with his boot. And then you approached. He didn't have to look up. He knew it was you based on your steps and the smell of your perfume. Something that had been ingrained in his mind from the time he allowed himself into your apartment.

“Is everything to your liking?”

He should just take you now. You're so small it would be easy. He could just throw you over his shoulder and walk out. He seriously doubted either of your friends would be able to help you. Though he wishes Connor would try, so he could break his face. How stupid you are to let Connor be around you when it's so obvious what he wants. Don't you ever wonder why he wants to hug you so much?

It doesn't matter. Ghosts can be smart for you.

He left only three minutes before your shift ended. He finally realized he had just sat there for an hour with an untouched now cold tea. He left the cafe in his car and waited for you to clock out. While sitting there in the cafe, alone with his thoughts and the beautiful view of you he made a decision. He was going to get you today. And he had plenty of time to plan.

Connor walks you out and before he leaves he kisses you on the cheek. Ghost’s grip on the steering wheel tightens and his knuckles turn white.

Plans change.

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You make it home without any trouble. You stumble through the door already hopping on one foot as you pull your shoe off. You do a little hop farter into your house before you can get the shoe off, and you fling it somewhere, too tired to put it away. The second shoe follows.

All you wanted was to lay in bed and watch stupid youtube videos till you fell asleep. You leave your purse on your walk-in table.

You are just about to walk into your living room when a strong arm wraps around your waist. You gasp in shock and it is the only sound that gets out before something is clamping over your nose and mouth.

You try to buck out of the hold, twisting your body any way you can. This proves difficult when you can't breathe and the smell of chemicals is quickly making you light-headed.

You try to remember something, anything, from the self-defense classes you took but through your panic, everything is fogging and hard to remember. You're running out of time and you know it. You scratch at the hand that is covering your face, and you dig your nails into the flesh of your attacker.

And then everything goes dark.

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You wake up with a fogging mind. Like you had been out drinking the night before. You groan and try to bring your hands down to rub your eyes. Only your left-hand reaches its destination. Your right stops and cold metal digs into your wrist.

“What the hell..” You mutter.

You give your arm a rather weak tug, you can't move it far. You're barely able to bend your elbow down.

You look up to your right, squinting through the thick haze that has glossed over your eyes you can make out the metal wrapped around your wrist and attached to the white bed frame.

And then it dawns on you. You are handcuffed to a bed. Your bed frame is brown, not white.

You sit up as fast as you can, wrist once again catching and pulling harshly against the metal handcuffs. It sends your head spinning and everything doubles. The rest of your limbs are free and you scramble up onto your knees. Placing your free hand onto your wrist, overlapping the metal, you pull against the bed frame. The bed frame creaks but nothing happens.

“Those are military-grade, you aren't getting out of them so no point in trying,” An accented voice says.

You whip your head around. There, a few feet away from the bed, is a figure sitting in a chair. You can only make out the white skull mask through the shadows. Like something from your nightmares. A demon, or perhaps, the Grim Reaper himself.

A scream catches in your throat coming out as nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

The man stands up and it sends you scrambling as far bask as you can go, your back hits the headboard. He walks around the bed and it sends you pushing yourself to the very corner, right arm bent at an awkward angle as you try to get away from him. You think you might recognize him. That there's some very hazy memory in the back of your mind.

He uses your name, and it shocks you. The closer he gets the more you can smell it. An ironic metallic smell. He's dressed in all black the only other color being the white of his skull mask. Now as your vision focuses you can see it's not even fully white but instead speckled with red.

Blood.

The relaxation sends you gagging. You are going to die.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Like hell you believe that.

“I can be rather nice when I want to. You'll see.”

He outstretches his hand and you think he's going to strike you. But clenched in his fingers is a small polaroid. You make no move to take it, too afraid to even breathe properly. He lets it go and it flutters down to your lap.

It's Connor. Or at least you think it is. You can just barely make out his features through the red. But what really gives it away is his eyes. Wide open and staring straight into your soul.

“All I feel is love for you. I will do anything to keep you safe. You don't understand now. But you will.”

Receding footsteps.

The sound of a slamming door.

Connor stares back at you and all you can do is shake.

#YourNothingWithoutMe

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vlad-theimplier · 1 month ago

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WIP: Custos Custodium

In which Jensen experiences ground zero for a train station bombing. Essentially canon, except all the Czech people are actually speaking Czech, Vega comes off a little less callous, and Malik is there too. TW: mass casualty incident, real-time orphaning. Learn Czech/first aid here.

Jensen shook himself alert only seconds later, according to his HUD, to an eerie silence broken by the creak of metal and the crackle of fire. No sirens yet. He was lying on—

“Faridah! You okay?”

“Mmph. Yeah.” She coughed on smoke. “Bruised from two-hundred-odd pounds of cyborg is better than blown up.”

“Damn straight,” Vega said. “Thanks. Also get off me now—your knee is in my liver.”

The silence bent and broke under the weight of a hundred voices, screaming praying crying in a half-dozen languages. He picked himself up and shook his head again to clear it. It didn’t work. His limbs did, though, so that was a start. Malik hauled herself to her feet, grabbed his offered wrist, while Vega brushed him off.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, hoisting her bag.

“Yep. Right behind you.” Jensen gathered up his own luggage, garment bag and duffel, and picked his way through clouds of roiling black fumes. Powdered concrete, hot metal, and a score of unidentifiable chemicals assailed his nose, a mélange underlaid with the tangy reek of blood. His hissing respirator dealt with the particulate gunk, but the world swirled around him dizzyingly as though it were no more solid than the choking air. Broken glass lay underfoot everywhere. As they neared the door to the street, one voice resolved out of the general clamor and the ringing in his ears. “You hear that?”

“Máma! Máma!” It was a child’s voice, high and thready with terror. “Někdo, pomozte!”

He couldn’t not help. “I’m gonna check it out.”

“You wanna stay in this deathtrap?” Vega asked. An LED sign tore free from its mountings and clattered to the ground a few feet away. She jumped and eyed the ceiling dubiously. “Well, be careful. We’ll talk.”

Vega vanished in the haze. Jensen walked toward the cries, shaken and disoriented although his mechanical legs were steady. Malik stumbled along at his heels.

A police drone whirred by, spotlight and gun picking out shapes moving or still, less than useless for disaster response. A cone of light pierced the dimness, the beam clouded in turn with tendrils of smoke, and fell on the source of the pleading voice. A boy of maybe eight clawed and punched at a pile of rubble where chunks of concrete had come down from the ceiling. “Maminka! Maminka! Probuď se!” His gaze fastened on Jensen. “Prosím! Pane, můžeš pomoct?”

The drone buzzed away, carving a wake in the dust-thick air. Jensen dropped to one knee beside the kid, letting his bags fall to the floor, scrabbling after the Czech part of his upended brain. “Yeah—ano. I’ll do what I can. Stand back… uh, odstoupí.”

Malik took the boy by one shoulder and drew him away. Jensen wrapped his fingers around a block of concrete the size of a fridge. Nothing else rested against it, so it’d probably be safe to lift. He got it an inch off the pile, feeling his reinforced back complain at the effort, and heaved it aside onto an unoccupied section of floor.

A woman’s bloodied hand groped blindly from a crevice beneath. The woman herself was buried deep. He went to shift another block, and her hand caught his and held it. She squeezed just hard enough for him to detect the pressure before her grasp went limp and slipped slowly from his own. He put his fingers on her wrist, uselessly, before remembering his smart vision. It confirmed a lack of pulse.

He stood heavily, then knelt before the little boy. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth. “I… Sorry. I’m so sorry. Moc mě mrzí.”

The boy crumpled and sobbed into his dead mother’s sleeve. They knelt on either side of him, and Malik put an arm around his diminutive shoulders as they heaved and shook. Jensen kept his hands well clear, feeling worse than useless, until emergency personnel finally got close enough for him to flag them down. They triaged the wounded, little tags in black, red, yellow, and green sprouting beside heads as they moved among the wounded and the dead. An EMT took the boy in hand with a grateful nod and a word of harried thanks, and they made their way through the bristling and suspicious streets to the dubious haven of Jensen’s apartment.

#wip wednesday #deus ex #adam jensen #faridah malik #alejandra vega

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

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The Only Kindness

summary: In the early days of Bucky’s captivity in Hydra, the only comfort he knows is the kindhearted doctor assigned to mend his wounds. At least when he's with her, he knows he isn’t alone. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 9.7k warnings: torture, canon level violence, unwanted sexual advances, hydra's attempts to brainwash bucky, hella angst, a/n: this is meant to sit in the world of canon and what we know eventually happens to Bucky at Hydra sooo do with that what you will. I am genuinely really proud of this one so I hope you can forgive me for the pain I cause

The first thing Bucky remembered every morning when the sting of florescent lights woke him in a cold sweat was that the arm attached to his shoulder was not his own. The realization of it hurt worse than the day before; with unforgiving metal seared into his skin, leaving behind bubbled scars and a revolting, oozing smell.

It weighed him down, slumped on his spine, pulled at his neck, and he struggled to even push himself upright. Sitting upon the thin mattress laid amongst an otherwise baron room, Bucky supposed he might have preferred the floor if not for the dark red stain at the center of the concrete.

Then, the familiar clicking of locks echoed against the walls and Bucky gritted his teeth as a stout man with rounded features and an arrogant grin strolled into the room – no, the cell – alongside two men strapped with rifles.

He clutched to the solid metal of his arm as if holding it might take the pressure off his shoulder, might subside the pain as it spread through his veins, or stop the twitching in his cheek as he tried to stifle the pain, but it was no use. He held on anyway in favor of wrapping a hand around the scientist’s throat.

“Ah, good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” Zola greeted, though there was something unpleasant in his tone. A threat, perhaps. A taunt. It was always something of the sort.

Bucky could barely muster the energy to look the man in the eye, but as he did, it was hidden under a dark, loathing glare. He spat on the floor by Zola’s feet.

“Go to hell.”

Zola jumped back and brushed at the toe of his shoe. It was amusing, at least, to see the rage boil in the man’s chest; all red faced and round and steaming from the ears. Though Bucky’s triumph was shorted lived as Zola waved a single hand at the armed guards beside him.

They lunged forward and with heavy hands, clawed Bucky into their grip by his biceps. He met concrete within seconds; the red stain laid beneath him. His knees barely had time to heal from the day before and they stung as he struggled under the guards’ grasp, raw skin and blistering burns shielded by paper thin fabric.

His face was pushed down into the stone and for a strange moment there was relief; it was cool to the touch, a break from the feverish heat on his brow.

But then, while a guard pinched at the nape of Bucky’s neck, nearly choking the air straight out of him and the other jabbed a knee to his spine, he remembered there was no relief within Hydra.

“You have a long day ahead of you,” Zola announced, a smirk growing upon his face as Bucky let out a hollowed whine. It slipped past his lips before he could smother it down. He knew then that he had lost whatever game they were playing; the win-lose of a man in chains to his captors with scalpels in their hands and venom on their tongues.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the fall; since icy waters and plummeting down to a ravine he wished most nights had swallowed him whole. He didn’t know how many times he was cut open in an unsterilized room, thrown onto a rusting metal table and operated on with cheap anesthetic. He didn’t know how many times he was strapped into a chair that set fire to his veins and left him feeling numb and empty, how many times he felt a lingering sense of dread he couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t know much at all, really.

But he knew his name. He knew his serial number. He knew Steve would come for him like he did before. He knew he’d get through this. He had to. He didn’t have a choice.

“We have much to do,” Zola announced, admiring how Bucky’s face pressed down into the concrete, how the prickles in the stone scraped against his cheek and cut at his skin— pleased to see a man brought to his knees, bowing before the greatness of Hydra. It brought Zola a sense of pride whether the Sergeant resisted or not. He would give in soon enough.

The guards didn’t loosen their grip on Bucky’s arms as they yanked him back to his knees. They didn’t give him a chance to stand either before they started to drag him from the cell.

The grip on his right arm was sure to leave bruises behind, ones to accompany the mess of blue and purple coloring his skin, but it was the pain on his left that rendered him paralyzed. It felt like his arm was being ripped straight from his body, pulled at every nerve ending until they snapped. He could hardly move.

It wasn’t until Zola made a sharp left at the end of the hall that a familiar sense of dread dropped into Bucky’s stomach. Whether it was fear, panic, resilience, he wasn’t sure, but he started to fight back as they neared a dark red door with six locks running up the side.

“No,” he gaped, barely a whisper, but it caught Zola’s attention.

Bucky thrashed in the men’s grip, using his weight as leverage despite the searing pain in his shoulder and the blood trickling down his ribs from where metal fused to flesh. His heels dug into the concrete, trying to catch against the wall to slow them down, to stop what he knew was coming.

Zola merely smiled.

It was no use, and perhaps Bucky knew that from the start, but he couldn’t be strapped into that chair without a fight. He still didn’t know its purpose but he knew it brought him pain. It disoriented him, made him forget his own name and the monsters that chained him. It forced him to remember all over again that he was held prisoner, thousands of miles away from home, presumed dead, and he couldn’t -- he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Please,” Bucky gasped and it sounded foreign in his own voice – broken. He hated it. He despised how his voice cracked, how he fell to his knees in front of his captors and begged.

Zola grabbed a firm hold of Bucky's chin, stump fingers digging into his cheeks and demanding attention. As he pulled in closer, Bucky caught sight of something strange in the reflection of Zola’s glasses.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him; hair grown and wild, unkept beard on his face, dirt and blood covering most of his skin. Amongst the scratches in the glass and the clouds of dirt, the reflection of the man looked tired, with hallowed eyes and sunken cheeks. He wasn’t strong enough to fight back. He wouldn’t survive if he tired.

Bucky slumped in the guards’ arms.

“That’s what I thought,” Zola jeered, a lingering chuckle etched into the trail of his voice. He waved a hand at the guards and Bucky was placed into the chair, all dead weight and positioned like a doll.

Thick, metal bars strapped down around Bucky’s wrists, his biceps, his ankles to hold him in place. He did his best to let go of himself, to find somewhere far beyond the walls of this room, away from the men who ripped him to pieces and broke him to the bare bones. He imagined something better, safer, where he was clean shaven and in fresh clothes, where Steve was waving from the end of the street and the war long behind them, but the dream was torn from him as soon as the panels clamped against his temples.

Electricity jolted through his system and his whole body tensed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

But he could scream.

It ripped through his lungs and he was certain he’d break straight through the mouth guard and shatter his teeth if they didn’t turn off the machine soon. The sound echoing through the room was strained, broken, and Bucky might have mistaken it for nails to a chalkboard if he didn’t feel the burn in the back of his throat.

He started to lose time, unsure if it was on for seconds or hours. It was blinding. It was all-consuming. It was swallowing him whole.

“Enough!” a voice broke through. A woman’s. It wasn’t one Bucky recognized.

“No, keep it on! He can take more.” Zola.

“Are you insane!” the voice shouted again. “You’ll kill him!”

Let them.

The thought startled Bucky but it slipped from him in the seconds it took to arrive; searing pain, white hot fire washing through every muscle down to his bones. His eyes began to flutter closed, a strange sort of emptiness pulling him under, a darkness he couldn’t place, and he welcomed the escape.

There was yelling again, though this time it was coming was across the room. The machine began to power down, the whirring sounds of electricity in his ears leaving him with a numbing silence. The dizziness took hold, the hollowness, and he was surprised to find a woman staring back at him, her hands wrapped around the lever that pulled him from the fire.

“What the hell are you doing!” Zola roared, accent thick and slurring his words together. He bounded forward, attempted to push past the woman but she held her ground, hands planted on her hips.

“I’m saving his life,” she grunted back, unfazed by Zola’s finger pointing up into her face. She swatted it away, ignoring the shock upon his rounded features. “You brought me here for a reason, didn’t you? Let me do my damn job.” She glanced around the room, eyed the men with guns aimed at the ready, barrels trained in her direction. “Give me the room.”

“Not going to happen,” Zola snapped but quickly silenced as she shot him a glare that had him cower several steps in retreat. His cheeks were burned red.

The woman turned back to the man in the chair and he slumped limply in its clutches, her narrowed eyes centering on the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She held up two fingers, eyeing him carefully before she slowly moved to press them against his throat.

He winced before she could even touch him, flinching at the air itself, and she paused, bringing her hand back to her chest. She gave him a minute to watch as she demonstrated what she was trying to do by pressing the tips of her fingers to her own neck.

She tried again and this time she held his stare; calming aura nestled between the vibrant shades in her eyes, a gentle kind of patience he didn’t expect, and he hardly noticed her fingertips against his skin as she felt for his pulse, feather light and paper thin. They were cool to the touch, a comfort in the burning heat of metal surrounding him and he caught himself before he could lean into her palm.

“His heart rate is through the roof,” she said tensely, turning back to Zola and withdrawing her hand. “Unless you want your multi-million-dollar project to go to waste, clear out before he has a goddamn heart attack.”

Zola eyed her suspiciously in what appeared to be a competition of wills. She straightened her back, arms folding over her chest, and she towered over the scientist’s small frame. He glared up at her and the fury was palatable on his face; upper lip twitching, eyes narrowed, hands curling into fists.

She held her ground.

“Fine,” Zola grumbled, waving a hand to the line of men behind him until they bring their weapons down to their sides. “Give the doctor the room.”

As if she were waiting for the men to leave, she exhaled a breath like she had been holding it for quite some time. When she let her hands come back to her sides, puncture marks were left in her palms.

“I’m leaving a man behind for your safety,” Zola threw over his shoulder at he reached the door, almost like a threat.

She swallowed; jaw clenched. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Maybe not today, but it will be.”

Then, he was gone.

The door locked shut behind him and a single guard remained by the door, positioned with his finger on the trigger.

“Finally,” she exhaled, turning back with a gentle smile on her face that felt almost unsettling to be in such a cold and unforgiving place. “Can you tell me your name, soldier?”

“Uhh,” was all that left his lips and he hardly recognized his own voice. He searched in the back of his head for the answer, felt it on the tip of his tongue, and still… nothing. He glanced back up at her with clenched teeth because he knew what would happen next, what always happened next.

But instead of a harsh hand to the side of his face or the blunt edge of a weapon to his crown, she nodded, offered him a sad sort of smile, and simply said, “that’s alright.”

She glanced down at the clamps restraining him to the chair. His skin was raw underneath, bleeding a little, and she frowned. It crinkled up into her forehead, pursed out at her lips, and he decided he liked it much better when she smiled.

“Your name is Sergeant James Barnes,” she said fondly and it sounded familiar as she said it, but it still felt distant— wrong in some way. She seemed to notice the contemplation on his face. “It’ll come back to you soon. Might take longer than the last time, but it will. They haven’t perfected the science of the chair yet, it seems.”

There was a resentment laced into her words as she glared back at the armed man standing guard with disgust. She softened as she turned back to face the man she called James. It was within that moment the anger washed from her features, a kindness replacing the hatred, and she ran her fingers on the edge of the chair before she pulled away.

“I’m going to undo these, okay?” she told him and he was surprised that she waited for his nod before adjusting the mechanics on the machine until the metal snapped open and a rush of cold air swept against the blistering skin. He hissed at the sting of it.

“Come,” she requested, gesturing to the examination table in the corner of the room. “Let’s get you out of this thing, huh?”

He was thankful for that. He couldn’t stand the sharp edges anymore or the blistering heat of the arm rests. Her touch was so gentle he wondered if it could push right through him as she bent down to help tug his right arm over her shoulders.

Just as she nearly had him positioned well enough to get him to his feet, the guard standing in the corner of the room stepped forward, gun raised.

“I wouldn’t do that, ma’am.”

She clenched her jaw. “I’m fine. Let me work.”

“He’s dangerous,” the guard grunted back.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” she argued. There wasn’t a trace of hesitancy in her voice, even as she turned to the man hanging off her arms. “Are you, Sergeant Barnes?”

He shook his head.

“See?” she gestured. “Now leave us be.”

The guard stepped back, lowered his weapon, and she smiled.

“Alright then, James,” she started, “think you can help me get you to that table over there? I know you’ve lost some muscle mass but you’re still pretty heavy.”

A short ghost of a laugh escape as he let himself lean on her shoulder, allowing her to guide him towards the table. It surprised him as it left his chest, the feeling of laughter, because he hadn’t so much as smiled since the fall. It hurt, almost. But it was a nice kind of hurt.

She helped him sit on the table, just high enough to give her decent leverage, and he spotted a bag filled with what appear to be medical supplies. It contained with what he would expect; a stethoscope, bandages, depressors, but there were also needles, and shiny metal tools that made him clench his hands around the lip of the table.

“I’m a doctor,” she said, noticing his stare. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Zola’s a doctor,” he muttered back feebly, sharp images of lying awake on a cold, metal table much like the one he currently sat upon plagued his mind, memories of scalpels in his shoulder and needles in his arms.

She nodded, contemplating what he said before she frowned and countered, “Zola’s a mad scientist with a God complex.”

A smile tugged at his lips. It broke a little, but it remained.

“You can call me Y/n if you like,” she said as she began digging through her bag. She found the stethoscope and placed the ends in her ears. “I’m going to press this to your chest, alright? It might be a little cold.”

She exhaled a breath on the side of it for a moment to try and warm it, rubbing it with the palm of her hand. He was mesmerized by the small details; how she positioned herself strategically between him and the armed guard behind her, how she told him exactly what she was doing before she did it, how she gave him time to prepare, how she hadn’t once touched him without asking first.

He didn’t understand her or why she was here, but he was thankful.

He nodded at her and she leaned in closer, pressing the piece to his sternum. It had a slight chill to it but he could still feel the warmth left behind from her breath. He took a deep breath in as she instructed. She took her time, slowly moving to his ribs, and then his back. He took more deep breaths, felt the pulsing of his heart steady under her touch.

“Looks good all things considering,” she told him. Her eyes drifted to the burn marks on his right wrist, fingers ghosting over the reddened marks and her lips tug down into a frown. She masked it as she faced him again, pushing out a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Might as well attend to this, too, don’t you think?”

Yeah, might as well.

He offered her his hand.

He sat quietly while she worked, listening to her hum softly under her breath. She was impossibly gentle with him, so delicate he could hardly feel it until it was gone. Her hands were a little cold but he found them soothing against the burns. The alcohol she placed on the wound stung, made him grit his teeth and grip to the table’s edge, but she moved quickly, wincing at the way he sucked in a harsh breath as if his pain meant something to her.

When she was finished, she wrapped his wrist with a bandage from her bag and gently tapped on his knee.

“Not a lot my patients would have sat still through that without some kind of numbing agent,” she grinned, praise in her voice, smile on her lips, and it sent a flutter through his chest. “You did good, James.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he’d known worse, that the pain of alcohol to his wounds was nothing in comparison to the mutilation on his arm or the electricity of the chair. So, he focused on something else, a distant memory edging its way back to the surface, something that didn’t lie within the pages of Hydra’s files.

“Bucky,” he choked out, voice a little dry. She raised an eyebrow. “My name… it’s Bucky.”

She smiled at that.

“Bucky,” she repeated, testing it on her lips, “it’s nice to meet you.”

***

It wasn’t the last time he saw Y/n.

No, he found himself under her care more days than not. It was a simple system, it seemed. Hydra would do its best to break Bucky to pieces and they’d send in Y/n to stitch him back up; glue him together with needle and thread or scotch tape and paper mâché. She did her best to heal him and while she could not cure every wound on his body, she gave him something he didn’t have before – something to look forward to.

A kind smile. A gentle hand. A voice so soft it nestled deep into his chest and warmed the hollow ache that had made a home by his heart.

Even through the pain, through the chair, through the long hours he spent overworked in a boxing ring, he knew she’d be waiting on the other side. It didn’t hurt as much when he thought of her, he realized – the only kindness he knew within Hydra.

They hadn’t attempted to use the chair on him in a while and for that he was grateful. To save him from the pain of the electricity and the emptiness that followed, but lately, to allow him to hold onto her memory. He didn’t want to forget her name, her kindness, her light within the darkest corners of hell.

He only ever saw her in short glimpses, brief moments when the guards pushed the boundaries too far and cracked open a scar that wouldn’t stop bleeding or dislocated his arm again or fractured another bone. They’d drag her into his room, rough hands on her wrists that made a knot form deep into Bucky’s stomach, and give her minutes to work before they hulled her away.

He healed quickly, he came to find. Certainly faster than he should. Maybe in another world he would have been pleased with this. A perfect soldier. Always ready for battle.

In this world, it meant shorter recovery between trainings. It meant pushing him beyond his limits and testing the extent of his newfound abilities. It meant few and distant meetings with the kind doctor whose smile made it impossibly difficult to despise every last ounce within Hydra.

***

A few weeks since their first meeting, Bucky found himself dragged by his wrists on a familiar path into what looked like a room much like his own, only there were a few small comforts inside; a bed, a desk, a lamp, and a series of books piled on a small dresser.

Y/n jumped up from the desk, pen falling to the concrete as she stared back at the guards, agape. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

They dropped Bucky to the ground, his own arms too weak to hold himself up, and felt the harsh crack of concrete to his jawline. Blood dripped down into his eyes, clouding his vision with crimson pools of red, but he could hear the quick patter of your bare feet as you slid down to the floor beside him, shooing away the guards.

Hands ghosted over his shoulders before you paused, watching the way he sighed into the cool embrace of concrete. She glared back up at the guards, waiting on their answer.

“He’s weak,” one of the guards spat, thick accent spewing down to land on Bucky’s bare skin. “The fist of Hydra is an embarrassment. He crumbles under pressure. He needs to be pushed, to be taught what he is.”

Bucky couldn’t quite register the way her hands curled up into fists or how a harsh exhale burned deep in her chest, but she swallowed it the best she could as she muttered, “get out.”

A toe nudged at Bucky’s leg – one of the guards behind him – and he groaned as it dug into a dark purple bruise from the days before.

“You’ve done enough,” she pressed again, swatting away his leg as he tried to push Bucky over to his back to see his good work. "Now leave.”

“You don’t give us orders, princess,” the other guard smirked, yellowed teeth bared.

“We’ll be back for him soon,” the first one said, nudging his friend to stand down. “Make sure he’s ready to go again tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut and within the echo, Bucky felt the cool touch of a breeze nestle against his skin. It was a relief, as kind as the concrete, that sat in sharp contrast to the burning heat on his skin.

“Are you alright, Sergeant Barnes?” an angelic voice called. It sounded muffled, and a bit distant, but it was one he recognized.

He nodded slowly, though the concrete scratched at his skin.

“You don’t look alright,” she countered, a touch of lightness in her tone and it came as a welcomed relief.

“You kidding? I look great,” Bucky teased, half muffled by the ground. She laughed, pressing a hand over her lips, and Bucky swore for the smallest of moments that all the pain had washed from his body completely.

He could hear her riffling around the room, gathering supplies and laying a blanket down by his side, then a pillow. She was talking to herself, words he couldn’t quite hear or understand, but they were a comfort nonetheless.

"Still with me Sergeant Barnes?"

“Bucky,” he grumbled, just as she came down to kneel beside him again. “S’my name, remember? I’m supposed to be the one with the memory problems here.”

There came that laugh again, though she tried to suppress it. “That’s not very funny, Bucky.”

“Give me an ounce of humor here, doll,” Bucky smirked. It ached in his lips where the split tore through, burned in his cheeks from the swelling on his face, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often he had much reason to smile these days. She seemed to bring it out of him.

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. “Think you can turn onto your back? I’ve got some cushioning here for you. I’m sorry I can’t lift you to the bed.”

“Nah, this is perfect.”

Bucky summoned as much strength as his body could muster as he pushed down into the concrete with his right hand. He started to shake as pressure burned into his left shoulder and he gritted his teeth, face contorting in a wash of pain as his smirk faded away in an instant.

She must have noticed because her hands slipped gently onto his right bicep, gently easing him to turn over the metal shoulder and lay onto his back. Her touch was so feather light, he questioned for a moment if it was even there at all, but then he felt a soft squeeze, the cool press of her palms, and he sighed.

Her hands were the only ones who did not mean him harm. She healed. She nurtured. She cared.

“What are they doing to you...”

Her voice was hardly a whisper, the shock on her face evident enough of the damage on his own. He didn’t want to imagine what he looked like, but he knew it was bad. It hurt to speak, hurt to even part his lips, and his vision was tunneled and dark, cast over in shadows, and somehow, she was still clear as day.

“Dunno,” he responded, recognizing the slur in his voice. “Training me for something, I think.”

She stilled; muscles rigid as she reached into her bag for something to bandage his wounds. He could see the contemplation on her face, the worry, but she swallowed it back, pushed out that gentle, reassuring smile he’d come to rely on and began to work on the cut along his cheekbone.

“It can’t be anything good, Bucky,” she said quietly, eyes flickering to the door as if she were worried about what laid on the other side. He knew the feeling well.

***

He forgot her for the first time a few days later.

The scars were starting to heal; the gashes open on his face just days before nothing but a thin discoloration on his skin. He knew the look on Zola’s face as he emerged in his cell that morning - smug and grim, eager to wipe away the decorated prisoner of war and turn him into something empty and broken. The smirk that crept up his face was unsettling, jarring, as it crinkled lined into his forehead and a vile look in his eye.

They slammed him down into the chair, locked the restraints into place, and he only spotted her rush into the room as the machine powered on. The horror in her eyes as she met his, the quick transition to rage as she turned to Zola, and the pain took over until it consumed him whole.

He lost some time because the next thing he knew, he was sitting on a metal table and the room had emptied, save for a single guard standing in the corner over the shoulder of a beautiful woman who eased a soothing gel onto the burns on his wrist.

He studied her as she worked, quietly humming to herself, telling him what she was doing before she dared to touch him in a voice so gentle it startled him. It was familiar, he realized, the delicate intricacies of her tone, the warmth in his chest when she touched him. He wasn’t afraid of her like he was the others. He didn’t flinch under her touch.

“Your heart rate is still pretty high,” she noted, her fingers pressed to the inside of his right wrist. “Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

She embellished her own, chest rising high as she inhaled, air blowing out from her mouth in the exhale. She nodded for him, something encouraging and kind, until he followed suit. But even through the tender smile upon her lips there was a sadness there, a disappointment, and it hurt him deep into his chest.

“I know you, don’t I?” he finally said after he mimicked a few of the breaths as she requested.

She smiled at that and he felt an instant relief. Something warm and gentle. Kind.

He narrowed his eyes upon the slight curve of her lips, drawing up to her eyes where he was met with a linger sense of calm, of peace, of reprieve. “Why don’t I remember you?”

She sighed, a cautious glance back at the guard behind her who seemed to be watching with the intent to overhear. Her eyes were downcast, a nervous brush of her tongue over her lower lip, and she pushed out a smile for him.

“You will, Bucky.”

He hoped that were true.

***

Bucky was barely tied together with string and tape, broken and bleeding and covered in bruises, and yet, a smile etched onto his broken lips as he turned to find Y/n stumbling into his cell. She shrugged off the grip of a guard with an aggravated huff before he slammed the door closed behind her.

She was no longer shocked by the state in which she often saw him. His accelerated healing made the brutal look of his mutilation a bit easier to swallow he supposed or perhaps he was getting used to it. It was like a mask he’d come to wear, fading in and out depending on the day, but always present. It didn’t seem to lessen the pain in her eyes as she sat down beside him, extending a hand towards his face to touch gently at the markings.

“I hate that they keep doing this to you,” she said softly, though there was a rage nestled into the crook of her tone. She shook her head, a tense breath exhaled as she reached into her bag. She pulled out a few swabs of gauze and alcohol wipes.

“M’alright,” Bucky slurred and it didn’t seem to help his case.

“They’re monsters.” Y/n dabbed at the gash on his forehead as gingerly as she could manage. Bucky didn’t mind the sting of it, not when she was touching him so tenderly, like she was handling something precious.

He’d figured out a while ago that she was just as much a part of Hydra as he was. He never dared to ask, but he’d seen the way she looked at Zola, how she despised him as an enemy. He’d seen the clothes she wore and how they were tattered on the seams, how they discolored with use, how she'd wear them over and over again while the men in the room wore pristine lab coats and freshly laundered suits. He’d seen the dark circles under her eyes, the knots in her hair, the way her collarbone began to protrude the longer he knew her.

She was a prisoner of Hydra, too.

“They’re monsters,” Y/n repeated, tears burning in her eyes and it warped deep into Bucky’s gut. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away. He wanted to make her smile again because she’d been nothing but a light for him and now, she was flickering and fading and he was certain it would destroy him completely until she uttered, “and... and so am I,” and his whole world fell apart.

“No,” Bucky shot back almost instantly. “Don’t say that. You’re not one of them.”

“I might as well be,” she said, brushing at the tears as they spilled down her cheeks. “I’m still complicit in what they’re doing to you – whatever that is. I’m still helping them.”

“They’d kill you,” Bucky argued. “They’d kill you if you tried to resist.”

“They’re practically killing you now! How is that any better?” She pressed her palms to her face, shielding herself from him and Bucky slid down onto the floor, kneeling on the concrete in front of her, and gently rested his hands on her knees. She struggled to catch her breath between the sobs. “I keep fixing you up just to send you back out there and—and—Bucky, I feel like I’m handing you over to slaughter and I can’t-- I can’t--”

“Stop, please,” Bucky begged. He could feel the splinter nestle into his heart, cracking at the edges as it tore a sliver down the center. It burned and ached and threatened to rip him to pieces worse than the foreign metal on his arm, worse than the guards on the other side of the door, worse than the chair that stole his name and his memories, because the woman who saved his life over and over again was crying and he simply couldn’t take it.

“Look at me,” he eased, drawing his hands up her thighs, along her arms, until he met her hands resting against her face. Gently, he pried his fingers under her palms and when he was met without resistance, he pulled them away from her face. “You are the only shred of good within this place. You are the only kindness I’ve known since they threw me on that table and remade me. You are the only thing keeping me going when they’re beating me within an inch of my life, the only thing I want to remember when they try to take away everything I know. Please, don’t think for a second that you’re one of them. You’re saving me, Y/n.”

Bucky wondered for a moment if he said too much as her lips parted into shock, her eyes staring at him shocked and wide. Her breaths were coming in slow and steady as she watched him, almost as if she were waiting for him to recant, but he held his ground.

“You are good, Y/n,” Bucky continued. He squeezed her hand in his right, letting his left fall down to his side to shield her from the evil from which it was born. “You're the reason I keep coming back.”

“I’m scared, Bucky,” she exhaled, voice so low, so shaken, he could barely hear it. She squeezed his hand back. “I’m scared of what they're going to do to you.”

“I’ll have you, won’t I?” he smiled, because it was all he had left. There were no guarantees, no promises he could make to ease her fears. “As long as I’ve got you with me, I’m okay.”

He just wanted her to smile again, to be the woman who fought against Zola in a crowded room of armed Hydra agents and won, who was fearless in the face of evil, and gentle and kind in her touch.

Bucky realized that the more time he spent with her, the more she’d grown to care for him, the more he’d found himself missing her— the more dangerous they were to one another. If Hydra knew...

“You have me,” she said suddenly, a stroke of confidence returning to her voice, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the door and the men that laid beyond it. Bucky met her eye and she raised a palm to his cheek, slow and steady, always giving him the time to prepare before she touched him even when it wasn’t necessary, even after he’d grown to trust her above anyone else. She cupped the side of his face, smiling sweetly for him, sadly, as she said, “as long as they’ll let me, Bucky. You’re not alone. You’ll have me.”

Her thumb traced over old scars she’d mended, over raised edges and dried blood from the mess left behind by the dozen Hydra agents he’d met earlier that day. The tenderness within her touch was unlike anything he knew how to quantify. It sat in such contrast to the hands of men who battered and beat him within an inch of his life, to the torture of the chair, to the scalpel in the hands of mad scientists with god complexes.

There was something in her touch. Something that felt a lot like love.

Bucky found himself leaning in closer, wanting to close the space between them because any space at all was simply too much. He wanted to engulf her into his arms, protect her from the evils that waited for them outside these walls, take her away to somewhere warm and safe, somewhere she didn’t have to check over her shoulder when she smiled. It terrified him how badly he wanted it because he knew there were no fantasies in Hydra, no dreams, no happy endings. He knew it would be taken from him eventually, she would be taken from him, but it didn’t stop him from clinging on as tight as he could.

His lips touched hers, broken and splintered, and still, beautiful. He could taste the salty tang of her tears against her lips, her fingers curling around his long, unkempt hair and twisting along his scalp, breathing him in. There was a sanctuary within her arms, under her touch, that seemed impossible within these walls, and yet, here she was.

Tangible. Real. Kissing him as if he could be ripped from her at any second.

And he was.

The door swung open and Bucky jolted away from her. Y/n jumped back against the bed frame, her head hitting the cement wall.

In the frame of the door stood a guard Bucky had become familiar with; blonde, broad, reminded him a bit of Steve if it weren’t for the cold, dead look in his eyes. The burn mark across his jawline helped to obstructed the similarities.

The guard’s eyes lingered a little longer on Y/n, focusing on the quick rise and fall of her chest, the slight swell in her lips, the mess in her hair, before he gritted his teeth and turned to Bucky.

“Times up, Soldat,” he grunted, wasting no time as he pulled a wand from his belt, flipped a switch at the end, and burned the jolts of electricity into Bucky’s side. He barely registered the desperate crack in Y/n’s voice as she begged for the guard to stop.

Then – darkness.

***

“We need to be more careful.”

“They’ll find out how I feel for you and they'll hurt you.”

“I can’t lose you, Bucky.”

He couldn’t get the words out of his head. Familiar voices: a man’s and a woman’s. He’d heard them spoken aloud; of that he was certain. But they were distant, far away, as if he’d heard them uttered on a film screen in passing. They couldn’t be his own memories. He was a blank slate. He was empty.

A woman stood across from him, approaching him slowly as the machine powered down. It was loud in his ears, echoing enough to pulse tremors into the back of his head. He didn’t dare show an ounce of the pain he felt. He’d come to know the consequences of that, even if he couldn’t quite remember what they were.

“I’m going to help you to the table, alright?” the woman said, gesturing to the metal desk to her left. There it was again— that familiarity.

She smiled kindly at him, as if looking into the face of a man she knew, but he did not know her. She must have sensed his hesitancy because she held up her hands out for him to see.

“I just want to examine you. Make sure you’re okay. Can I do that?”

He narrowed his eyes on the woman, listening intently to her heartbeat. It was a strange sound, one he shouldn’t be privileged to hear, but he found the skill useful. He could listen for the inflections in the rhythm, pulse points and skips that told him when a person was lying.

Hers was steady. Even. He nodded.

He was surprised at how easily he allowed her to guide him to the table, how he didn’t question as he let her place a hand on his inner wrist to check his pulse, how he didn’t flinch when she approached the scars on his shoulder. It was like he knew the routine, understood the subtle intricacies in her gestures warning him of what she was about to do before she even laid a hand on him.

A relief was evident in his muscles. He felt a calmness wash over him the longer she stood at his side, recording his vitals, running a hand soothingly along his arm. It seemed personal, the way she touched him, like she was preserving something – or guiding something home.

He wanted to ask her name, why she was treating him so kindly when all he knew within these walls was the cruelty of violent men, when the guard who stood at the back corner of the room cleared his throat.

“You almost done, sweetheart?” The guard spat the pet name like an insult and the kind woman standing beside the Soldier flinched. She tensed quickly after that, mustering out a brave face as she turned back to the armed guard defiantly.

“I’ll be done when I’m done, Bronski.”

The Soldier wanted to smile, though he wasn’t sure why. A swell of pride beamed in his chest as Bronski’s smirk dissipated, replaced with something colder, darker; a bruise to his ego. The woman turned back to the Soldier, exhaled a heavy breath and offered him a short smile; calming, reassuring. The edges of his lips started to curve in response until –

Bronski crossed the room in four long strides, grabbed a tight hold of her arm and yanked her swiftly away from the Soldier. She collided against his chest, caged against him under the firm hold of his grip.

“You think you can mouth off to me, bitch?” Bronski sneered, shoving her against the desks at the far side of the room. Viles of serums and chemicals spilled over at the impact, glass shattering, and the Soldier began to stand from his position across the room, his hand curling into fists.

“Stop looking at him! He’s not going to help you,” Bronski taunted as her eyes flashed back at the Soldier, pleading at some unknown force he couldn’t quite understand, though he listened to its call. Bronski towered over her, easily overpowering her frame, and pinned her to the wall.

The Soldier took another step forward, another inch closer to what he was sure were near fatal consequences, but there was a voice screaming in the back of his head, an instinct he couldn’t drown out, a desperate need to protect a woman he didn’t know.

“You think we didn’t notice, huh?” Bronski growled, his hand sliding down her side, tracing over the curves at her waist and the Soldier felt a sudden twist in his stomach, a dead weight sinking him into the ground at the sight. “You think we can’t tell you got it hot for the asset? He’s weak. Pathetic. Why don’t you try being with a real man instead? I’ll show you a good time, princess...”

Her eyes were on the Soldier, holding his gaze though she was shaking; trembling and afraid. He didn’t like that.

“Get away from her.”

Bronski froze. He managed a slow glance over his shoulder to find the Soldier standing just a few feet away, hands clenched at his sides, fuming as his eyes flickered between the Hydra agent and the woman he held pinned to the wall.

“Don’t be a fucking hero, Soldat,” Bronski spat back.

But the Soldier did not move.

“Get away from her,” he repeated, his voice low, mechanical. He could feel the rush of adrenaline building in his veins, the chaos of the rapid thumping of his pulse. He wasn’t used to such reactions, such intensity, when all he’d come to know was a crippling emptiness. It was unpleasant.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bronski taunted, a sick smirk upon his face. He dismissed the Soldier, didn’t dare to think he’d disobey direct orders, and turned back to the woman.

She tried to slither out of his hold, but his grip on her wrists was so tight his nails had dug puncture marks into her skin. She was shaking, tears burning into reflective lenses over the gentle hue of her eyes; kind eyes that should not bare such a weight.

Bronski leaned in closer, his mouth pressing against her neck, her whole body stiffening at the touch, and the Soldier snapped.

He rushed at them, his left hand clamping down around Bronski’s neck until he started to gag. Bronski released her wrists, allowing her to sink to the floor in a fallen heap. Bronski scratched at the hand at his neck, gasping for air as his skin turned bright red, then blue, but he was only met with metal. It could not feel. It could only maim.

There was a rage storming inside the Soldier, a mission he’d assigned for himself, as he threw Bronski across the room. It didn’t take much effort. The Soldier was stronger than most men. They underestimated him, believed him to be feeble and weak because he was submissive. But not now. Not when they threatened her.

“Soldat!” Bronski choked out, his voice damaged. Broken windpipe. The Soldier smiled.

Slowly, he took a knee at Bronski’s side, grabbed a firm hold of his collar for leverage, and barreled the closed end of his fist into the man’s face until he could no longer see the smirk that had pressed upon his mouth as he dared to touch his girl. He didn’t stop until Bronski was no longer begging, until he was silent, and blood caked between the panels of metal in his fist, until he heard a voice calling behind him—

“Bucky! Bucky, stop!”

He froze. There was that name again...

He blinked a few times, a sharp piercing in the back of his head painful enough to obscure his vision and he dropped Bronski from his hold. A hand slid down over his shoulders, guiding him away from the body on the floor. It was that same familiar touch; one he knew well.

“Bucky, look at me.”

He did.

Her hand pressed sweetly to the side of his face, like she was trying to memorize him. He leaned into the touch, something he was sure he hadn’t done in years, and yet, within her arms it felt like the most natural thing in the world, like maybe he’d done it a dozen times before.

When he met her eyes again, he understood why.

“Y/n?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms. She molded so perfectly against him, his healer, his savior. Bucky knew they wouldn’t have much time before the Hydra infantry arrived and discovered what he’d done. He didn’t dare spare a glance back at the body on the ground.

“Y/n... I—”

The doors swung open, slamming in echoing shocks against the walls, and chaos ensued. Swarms of armed Hydra agents ascended into the room and tore Y/n from his arms, separating them as they restrained Bucky back into the chair. It was the only thing that could hold him.

“Leave her alone!” Bucky roared, that same rage returning to him in fire as two guards pinned Y/n’s arms behind her back, holding her steady as she desperately fought against their hold. “Get your hands off of her!”

Zola appeared at the frame of the door, eyes narrowing on Bucky. The room fell silent.

“Impossible.” He followed Bucky’s eyes to where the guards were restraining Y/n. “The programming should not have failed so soon after he was wiped. How?”

“He’s got a crush on the doc, sir,” one of the guards reported snidely. Bucky recognized him from the many trips he spent dragged along the hallways smearing blood into the concrete before he was dropped off at Y/n’s door.

“Interesting.” Zola crossed the room, hands grasped behind his back as he paced. His eyes fell on Y/n, studying her. “And is it... mutual?”

She didn’t respond, though when her tear-filled eyes flashed over to Bucky, he had his answer.

“Wipe him,” Zola ordered.

The machine started to power up and Bucky found himself fighting against the restraints though he knew it would do no use. Tears were openly streaming down Y/n’s face as she watched him, his name on her lips as she desperately tried to break the guard’s hold on her.

Zola seemed unbothered by the scene. If anything, he was amused, like he was watching lab rats in a cage. “Separate them. I don’t want her interfering with his programming again. We’ll make use of her when the time is right.”

Bucky tried to call her name, but the electricity had already taken hold, submerging him into the darkness.

***

The Soldier was used to his routine. Breakfast at dawn. Then training. Dinner at sundown. Sleep. It was reliable. Simple. The Soldier found a peace in that.

It had been months since he’d seen anyone outside of the two guards at his cell, the parade of uncontrollable human experiments, and the short, stout scientist. It was better this way, they told him. Less stimulation. He was important, meant for incredible things to better humanity. They needed him focused and alert.

He had little room for anything else. Focus on the mission at hand. Complete the task. Reward will follow.

Something as trivial as memories got in the way of that. The Soldier could not afford such a distraction. He was not tied down by a name or a family, by relationships or desires. He was a weapon. Made to be used. He was not capable of more.

“I want to have you looked over before we send you out for your mission today, Soldat,” the scientist said as he examined the Soldier from across the room. The man carried power within Hydra but he was small, cowardly, and he would not dare enter a room with the Soldier without a guard in place. He gestured to the door and the guard with a thick burn down his jaw moved towards it. Blonde hair, blue eyes, broad. He seemed vaguely familiar, though it felt distasteful in his mouth.

A woman was pushed through the doors and into the baron room. She shook off the grip of a Hydra agent with a grunt before she realized where she was. Her eyes fell on the Soldier and he expected her to cower in fear; they all did upon seeing him. Word traveled fast of what he was capable of. And yet –

There was relief in her shoulders, a sigh. She almost smiled before Zola turned in her direction and she pushed it away into a tight frown. The Soldier narrowed his eyes.

“Get to work, Doctor,” he ordered, though it sounded more like a warning.

She nodded, stepping in closer to the Soldier though she was hesitant in her movements. She wore dark circles under her eyes, a redness within the whites. Her clothes were old, torn a little at the edges, and dirty with use. But still, she offered a kind smile as she approached.

“How are you feeling?”

The Soldier didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever bothered with his answer. He stayed silent.

“You can talk freely,” she encouraged gently as she approached his bedside. He sat on the edge of the cot, tension burning through his body as it always did when he wasn’t alone. One word out of turn resulted in punishment. He knew well enough not to tempt it.

She seemed to understand he would not fall into the trap, and she nodded in acceptance.

“I’m going to take your vitals, alright? I’ll start with your heart rate.” She held up two fingers, gesturing as she pressed them against her own neck. Seemed harmless enough, though he suspected he didn’t have much of a choice anyway. It was strange she acted as if he did.

Regardless, the Soldier nodded.

As she touched him, something seemed to break. She clenched her jaw tightly, trying to focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat, but he could hear the distress in her own. Quick, pounding, uneven, and she pulled her fingers away before he questioned the slight tremble in her touch.

He wanted to ask if she were alright because something about seeing her upset was unpleasant for him. She wanted to say something, that much he could tell, but she bit her tongue.

“You’re here for a reason, Doctor,” Zola taunted from his position in the corner of the room. The woman flinched though she kept her back to him. Her eyes flickered to the Soldier as if he were an anchor. Zola smirked. “Go on. Test our programming. Why else do you think we kept you around?”

Then, he exited the room. The guard followed behind him until the Soldier was alone with the woman.

She swallowed; eyes cast down as if she were afraid to speak. For a while, she continued to take his vitals – checking his blood pressure, his eye movement, examining the mess of scars on his shoulder as they attempted to heal. All the while, so impossibly gentle, so kind in her touch, that he started to wonder if he’d felt it before.

When she was finished, she took a step back. It was only then that the Soldier noticed the reflective marks on her cheeks. Had she been crying? Why did the thought alone make his stomach twist into knots painful enough to nauseate him?

“Bucky?”

He narrowed his eyes, confused. She reached out for his hand, though she stopped herself before she could touch him. It seemed agonizing; the restraint visible on her features.

“Bucky, please tell me there’s still a of piece of you in there,” she begged. He found himself wanting to lie, to pretend to be this man she craved, just to make her happy. He didn’t know why he cared so much, why it bothered him to see her cry. She was a stranger.

“You don’t recognize me at all, do you?” Her voice was so small, so broken. She was never afraid of him, he realized. No – it seemed she was more afraid of his answer. He did not respond. He didn’t know how.

She nodded, clenching her jaw as tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and the Soldier managed to break the heart of a woman he didn’t know. Another casualty in his wake.

“Excellent,” Zola sneered, appearing back in the doorway. The doctor took a step back and it surprised the Soldier when the space between them felt like an assault. Zola grinned as he moved closer to the woman. “Hydra thanks you for your service.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, just before she landed a closed fist against the bridge of the scientist’s nose.

The Soldier flinched, stunned by the woman’s brazen as she stared into the face of the mad scientist. The tears hadn’t yet dried and still – she was fearless. Zola laughed as the blood dripped down into his mouth. A guard wrapped a vicious hold around her wrist, beginning to drag her out of the room, but she turned back to the Soldier.

“Don’t give into them, Bucky! You have to fight this! You’re good, do you hear me? You’re not one of them!”

Her voice echoed in the room even as she was shoved through the door and down the hall. He listened for the last remaining vibrations of her voice, of her struggling, until it was silent. He wondered about this man she referred to, why she thought he was worth fighting for. He thought about whether he was the man she spoke of.

“Distractions, Soldat.” Zola tsked. “You are magnificent. You are the fist of Hydra. Do you understand?”

He nodded. It pleased the scientist.

Zola explained the mission he was about to embark on at dawn. He listened to the instructions, the details, the purpose – all the while wondering about what became of the kind doctor who called him by a name he didn’t recognize.

Then, when he was finished, the scientist left and the Soldier was alone— just as he always had been.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes fluff

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boytouya · 3 years ago

Text

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦

words:2.3k

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence, blood, angst, open ended/ambiguous ending, descriptions of death.

request: “Can i request sukuna x male reader. Where reader keeps reincarnating with each lifetime for a curse and every time he remembers sukuna, he dies after gaining memories back. You can choose if theres a good ending or angst. Thank you king! I fell in love with him especially after reading that one shot i had to watch jjk and hes hot! Thank you for turning me into a sukuna simp! Much love”

a/n: i went,,,overboard with this request 🗿 BUT IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITESSIJEHSHE i’m honored to have introduced you to such a foine man

When you were five, only then had you understood the curse deemed ‘Ryoumen Sukuna.’ A rather tall man with two heads, one of which had splattered blood onto your sneakers. You understood the concept of death, of course, but could never truly comprehend the feeling of nothingness after watching your life flash before your eyes until nineteen. But there you stood, clutching the loop of your shorts when you witnessed the murder of your entire village. You didn’t know evil could have a moral compass, but the tall curse seemed to exclude half of the women and children. After the widening of youthful eyes and curdling screams you learned the monster took likings to things too. Women, with shaking forms and broken spirits. He’d stop before them, stare at them with eyes that could- in fact- kill, if they truly wanted to. But then he stopped in front of you.

“Close your eyes, Brat.” Death's hands were just as large as your family painted them out to be, if not larger. Calloused and riddled with blood as they are placed over your ears. You do as he- it says, squeezing your eyes shut and enclosing your eyes behind the meat of your palms just to be extra careful. You can see stars behind your eyelids, just as you can feel the sickening twang of death lingering in the air. You were aware it would happen at some point, Death would find its place for you over and over and over again, you’d been told since the day you were born.

There’s another sound, only muted under large palms. You don’t need your sense of sight or hearing to know what it was, the warm chunks splattering onto your skin was enough. Immediately, you flinched. When you opened your eyes, there were piercing eyes staring straight into your own. It looked so human, but something was off. Uncanny, as if it took years to manipulate its flesh and bone to emulate humans to a T. But there was nothing human behind those eyes, instead a void of nothingness. Death itself. If Death could express interest, you’d have thought that was the expression it was imitating. It offers a hand, one of four. Larger than your face, with sharp claws that could almost be described as talons. Darkened by dirt and remains of your loved ones, if it truly wanted to kill you, it could. It could tear you limb from limb with the wave of a finger. And it knew that.

So you took the hand, and he became your second home.

When you were ten, you learned about the red string of fate. It could never be broken, and those connected by it would always reunite, no matter the circumstances. You often had nightmares, those of which filled with blurred faces and sharp pain that reached you in your lucid state. Dreams of talons, piercing eyes, and double headed monsters. You dreamt under the stars, tasted metal on your tongue, and choked on smoke that wasn’t actually there. You dreamt of facial markings, details that you couldn’t exactly place, a name that you couldn’t quite remember. It left your tongue feeling thick in your mouth, racked tremors through your body, and caused premature dark circles to accumulate under your eyes.

When you were nineteen, you experienced your last breath. The air was stolen from your lungs, crushed under years of heartbreak and terror, and snatched from you in the dead of night. Your eyes glazed over, and nothingness overtook you. It left you for someone else to find, cold and lifeless. A void, similar to the eyes you had finally placed. But that didn’t matter much then, you had already drifted away from your body.

And that was that.

Thus, the cycle repeated. Under different names, different ages, different genders. There was always something gnawing away at your conscience, you felt as though you were forgetting something. But when you finally remembered, it was too late. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was almost like deja vu, stepping outside your home to find blood splattered on the concrete floor. It made your blood run cold, sent a tremor through your body and made you feel like you were five again. Small and defenseless. You take it as your best interest to go back inside before you pass out, but the second you whip your body around you meet something- someone?- large and sturdy.

“Sukuna.” That was it, the sour taste at the tip of your tongue, the lingering sensation at the back of your brain. Him. He didn’t look the same, no, much smaller with tufts of pink hair. There’s something behind his eyes this time, something almost irrevocably human. For some reason that’s much scarier than what you remember. What you think you remember. He’s much more human, but the way he looks at you is everything but humane. He looks frustrated, angry at something, as if he’ll implode any second and go on a rampage. Dread bubbles up in your stomach, nearly erupting through your mouth as bile. It felt as though something should be happening, like something usually happened when the itch went away. He chuckles, low in his throat as he cranes his neck to put his face uncomfortably close to your own. His hands, still large, find their way to your wrist, gripping your right hand uncomfortably tight. For a moment, you consider how long a trip to the hospital would be if he shattered the bone beneath his fingers. But instead there’s a jolt of electricity that would’ve had you yanking your hand back if he weren’t holding it.

“What? You look different.” He all but purrs, inspecting your palm with long nails. Not long enough to be talons, but longer than those of a claw. It was true, you did look different. He wondered if you spent your lifetimes looking exactly the same. That couldn’t have been possible, he would’ve found you much easier, then. Still quite boyish, as if the body you were in didn’t originally belong to you. Clearly grown out of cargo shorts and polos, much taller than you were before. There was no way he could have forgotten you, the way you jumped when the remains of your loved one splattered across your legs. The way you stared back at him with a look of acceptance, the way you grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead you out of the village. It explained the body memories perfectly, the feeling of large palms on your head and remnants of a brain splattering onto your knees.

“Last time I saw you,” He let’s go of your wrist with a bored expression, then replaces its spot with the top of your head. He shoves you down, and you make an effort to ignore the crack your knees make when they smack against the concrete. Then, he crouches down to stare you directly in the eye, just like he had the first time you met. His eyes were no longer dark, instead a deep shade of red that caught light from the moon. They reminded you of vials of blood. “You were this tall. Much cuter in this century.”

“And you were bigger.” Sukuna laughs as if hearing that was the funniest thing in the world. He leans his weight into you and uses you as a support beam, laughing until his ribs burn and beg for a break. But how could he laugh at a time like this? He didn’t think it was weird? He’s existed for centuries, murdered for millennias and only now has he seen you. That wasn’t how it worked, when you died, you died. But Sukuna was a walking oxymoron to that statement. When he died, if he died, he would return. He’d return through you, the last fragments of his soul would stay bound to yours until the end of time. Perhaps that’s how he knew, how he remembered. Perhaps that’s why he still took the time to find you, even after countless years of failure. It was peculiar, but not as much as being bound to Death himself. It was a sick game of turning the phrase ‘Til’ death do you part,’ because in your case it was literal.

“You’re still a brat.” His voice is closest to something fond, as if he’s reminiscing sweet memories. It was much different on your account, and part of you wondered if Sukuna understood that. He makes no effort to help you up (he explains that you’re “a big boy now”) as he invites himself into your apartment. Nothing special, he doesn’t care much for family photos or if you have them, but the stacks of letters and books on your table peak his interest. He tears apart envelopes as if he owns them, reads through the contents and discards them to the floor if he deems them useless. The way he sits nearly breaks your chair, and, honestly, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

So you sit beside him.

“You were so scared,” He says, almost as if he were bragging. But he was known to be arrogant and cocky, that was just his nature. He didn’t truly mean it like that, in fact, he looked quite reverent after letting the thought drift into the air. It was kind of funny, such a powerful thing fawning over past memories. But that wasn’t how this should go, you had your memory back, so why hasn’t anything happened? “When you grabbed my hand you stopped shaking.”

“...”

“It’s a shame I couldn’t keep you long,” He visibly frowns, the skin around his lips worry, but you can't tell if it’s genuine or not. He looks at you with something knowing the second the thought enters your head. “I looked for you, at first. You died young, for a human.”

Ninteen. ‘I should have been there,” he wants to add.

“Why aren’t I dying now?” You interrupt and let the panic sink in, the thought of impending doom sits on your shoulders because, really, it could happen at any moment. But this time, you don’t want it to. You remember accepting death when it came to your door at the young age of five, nineteen, countless times over and over. You had only ever gotten this far, you weren’t ready yet. You couldn’t start over, not now. “Sukuna?”

The question sours his mood in the blink of an eye, and instead of looking through your things, he raises himself from his seat to rest his palms on the table. It seemed he had a thing for staring down at people, making them cower under his stone cold gaze. You note the way his jaw clenches. You open your mouth to speak again, but he seems to have other plans. He squeezes your cheeks, making your lips purse together under the pressure of his large fingers. The movement feels familiar, like he’s done it before. The five years you spent with him were still a bit of a blur, but you remembered holding his hand quite often. He’d tell you to close your eyes if there was something he didn’t want you to see, he’d ruffle your hair a bit too hard, let you sleep on his back if he was out in the town. But that was all you remembered. He remembered it all.

“Respect your elders,” He lets go and sits back down as if he hadn’t just thrown a tantrum over you interrupting him. Sukuna was centuries old, but even then, he’d exhibit immature behavior sometimes. Living for so long had to get boring (and lonely) at some point, perhaps that was why he looked for you. He did consider you something close to family, after all. In truth, there were some lifetimes where you met. Some when you were friends, something more than that, and something inseparable. And that’s why you hadn’t died yet, you didn’t remember it all. “It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re talking.”

“You’re much more handsome in this life.” His smile is much more intimidating than sweet, the sinister curl to his lips would only ever be associated with bloodshed in your eyes. But it was much more than that. Nights of sleeping together, days of laughter and flirtatious comments, soft moments that only you had seen. And it was bittersweet, because he knew the second he’d jog your memory you’d be gone. It wasn’t just a curse for you, but for him. Maybe it was his punishment for hurting so many people, dragging an innocent soul down with him and hanging them by the red string of fate. The comment makes your skin prickle with heat. Sukuna was quite the charmer when he wanted to be, easily picking at your weak spots with whatever you wanted to hear. But the comment was much more for the sake of his own, instead of yours.

Sukuna stands, hot on his heels as he holds out his hand one last time. If something were to happen to you tonight he’d make the most out of it, just as he did countless times over and over. So many years of starting over, getting to know you in various different bodies, realizing that being trapped away was the only way you’d get to live a full life, it was always on his mind. You were always on his mind.

So you take his hand. And for the millionth time, he’d become your second home.

taglist:

@ryoukuna @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @rinkindaugly

#💕.sukuna #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #anime x you #anime x reader #anime x male reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #sukuna imagine #sukuna angst #sukuna au #sukuna oneshot

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

All together now

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, violence, blood, breeding/forced pregnancy

This is dark!Stucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Stucky + “You take him so well, just not as good as you take me.” + breeding/forced pregnancy + Steve and Bucky realize they both have their eye on the same girl. They decide to work together to get what they want. @river-soul

“It’s just Bucky,” Steve waved for you to get your hand off your gun.

“What’s he doing here?” you left the pistol on the metal table and went back to the pot of canned soup.

You stirred the pot and looked around at the small safehouse as you heard the car door and the ensuing steps. You tapped the excess broth from the metal and turned back to cross your arms as you leaned on the counter.

“He does realise we’re hiding out here?”

“I asked him to come and have a look at these,” Steve jabbed his finger towards the manila file as he peeked out between the slats across the window.

“Wha-- I already translated them for you,” you huffed, “and we don’t have enough soup for him.”

“He knows Hydra better than anyone, he can tell us what the symbols mean,” Steve took a deep breath.

“We could have waited and got them back to intel in New York--”

The deadbolt turned and you shut up as Steve pulled the door open. You turned back to the stove and watched the soup. You had no issue with Bucky really but the last time you saw him, he’d confessed things to you that made it hard to look at him. And he hadn’t reacted well when you didn’t reciprocate.

“There,” you listened to the two men move around, noting that you didn’t even get a hey from the third agent, “thanks for coming, Buck.”

“Mhmm,” you heard the chair groan tellingly and you turned off the burner.

You took out two metals bowls with a clink and poured the beefy stew into them. You added a spoon to each and turned to hand one off to Steve as he sat on the only other chair. You stood by the counter and slurped yours.

“It’s a map,” Bucky said, “the star, the five points,” he took out his phone and flipped through. He leaned forward and pointed to five different cities, “up in Siberia, Hydra checkpoints.”

“Shit,” Steve sat back as he scooped up his soup, “well, we should’ve caught that.”

“How could you, it’s not exactly marked on Google,” Bucky closed the folder and placed his phone on top of it, “how much longer you here?”

“Couple days at most,” Steve answered and you felt entirely ignored in the two way conversation.

You gulped down your food straight from the brim and rinsed your bowl. You wiped off your hands and checked the time on your watch. You took your gun and cleared the chamber.

“Early morning,” you said, “I’m gonna hit the hay, let you guys catch up.”

“Alright,” Steve set his bowl down on the small square table beside him.

“Night,” Bucky said, his first word to you, “sweet dreams.” His voice trailed after you and you felt both watching you as you pushed into the bedroom. You didn’t look back as the door clicked behind you.

You and Steve settled in easy to the meagre safehouse. There were missions you slept on concrete or in dirt so the dusty old mattress you shared wasn’t anything to gripe about. You changed into your plain grey sweats and your military issued matching tee.

You dropped down onto the mattress and listened to the drone of the male tones through the wall. You stretched and rolled onto your side and closed your eyes. Hopefully he sent Bucky away by morning.

⭐

You grumbled and rolled over as the other side of the mattress shifted. You hid your face in the pillow as you hugged it with one arm. You tried to ignore Steve as he settled onto the flattened springs. You needed whatever rest you could force out of the short nights.

You went rigid as you felt his warmth against your back and his arm wrapped around your middle. You grabbed his wrist and froze. The vibranium was shockingly cool against your palm. Your eyes shot open as you were pulled flush against Bucky and Steve lowered himself on your other side.

“What the fuck are you doin--”

The vibranium fingers smothered your voice and you grunted in surprise at Steve’s nakedness. Your hand grazed against Bucky’s nude thigh and your heart began to pound. You reached for Bucky’s wrist again and Steve snatched away your arm and slung it over his shoulder.

You mumbled into the hand across your mouth and tried to push away from Bucky. You only served to brush his prodding excitement with your ass as your other hand beat against Steve’s chest. You tried to shake your head as the super soldier in front of you tugged at your loose pants.

You threw your head back and Bucky grunted and retracted his hand as you smashed your skull into his nose. You drew your hand from over Steve’s shoulder and punched him across the jaw. You pushed yourself up and tripped as Steve kept hold of the sweats and you fell at the foot of the bed.

You were tugged back as Bucky swore and flipped over as you reached for the end of the mattress. Steve peeled away your pants and you kicked out at him as the other soldier cradled his bloody nose. He spat a glob of saliva and blood onto the floor and got to his knees to help Steve wrangle you in.

They pinned your arms above your head as you kept kicking and flailing, snarling at them.

“What the fuck? Let me go?” you gritted.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Bucky growled and sniffed as the blood trickled from his nostril, “I was nice and patient.”

“Steve,” you hissed at the blond, “you’re really gonna let him do this?”

“Him?” Steve’s jaw ticked, “Us.”

“What--” you grunted and fought harder, bringing a knee up far enough to catch Bucky’s ribs.

Both soldiers turned to grab your thighs and held you flat to the bed, gripping both wrist and legs. They looked at each other over your body and shared a conspiratorial moment.

“We should have sedated her,” Steve said.

“No, I want her to feel it when I fill her up,” Bucky scowled, “you got ties?”

Steve stared back a moment then nodded. They flipped you over and Bucky quickly straddled you as he twisted your arms back and held them to the middle of your back. Steve got up and disappeared through the open door.

“Why are you doing this?” you huffed.

“Why’d you lead me on?” Bucky snarled.

“I didn’t--”

“You didn’t,” he scoffed, “no you just flirted with me then laughed in my face.”

“That’s not what happened,” you wriggled and he squeezed you between his thick thighs.

“I wanted more than this but… you’re good stock, strong,” he fingers tightened painfully on your wrists, “all the genetic markers for a successful term.”

“What--”

“Shut up,” he stretched his fingers around both your wrists and freed a hand to pin your head down. Steve entered and you could only watch his feet as he neared. You closed your eyes as he got to his knees and Bucky helped him bind your wrists. “You got anything to gag her with?” the latter asked.

There was silence and you were lifted again and put on your back, your head between the pillows. You flung a leg up and it was caught easily. Your legs were forced down and your ankles held far apart. You opened your eyes and watched Bucky step between your legs as Steve kept your feet in place.

“Steve, don’t let him do this,” you begged, “please, whatever you’re thinking--”

Bucky dropped to his knees and his hand grasped your throat. He applied enough pressure to smother your voice.

“He’ll have his turn too,” Bucky wiped away the last of the blood from his nose with the back of his real hand then shoved it between your legs.

You gasped as he poked around impatiently. He moved closer and you felt his tip against you. Your hands throbbed as you laid atop them painfully and you whined through your tight throat. Steve’s hold on your didn’t waver as your legs tensed at Bucky’s violent intrusion.

He slammed into you so that your back arched and you pushed your shoulder down into the mattress. Your breath crackled in the air as his fingers squeezed firmer with each long thrust. The mattress shifted with his motion as he rutted into you.

He stretched his finger up your cheek and turned your head straight. He bent over you as his hips kept their pace. “Look at me,” he rasped and your eyes met his stormy one, “that’s it, I want you to look at me as I fill you up.”

He fucked you harder and panted as you gasped past his grip on your neck. Your ankles were released but you could do nothing as Bucky brought his legs back under yours and pushed them wide. He leaned most of his weight on your throat as he rammed into you.

“I want you to… remember,” he said through thick breaths, “the moment I… fill you up…” he bared his teeth and thrust frantically, “the moment you… become a mother.”

His voice fizzled and he bent to rest his forehead against yours as he came. You whimpered as his hand slipped from your throat and he slowed his hips. You tried to move your wrists as your fingers throbbed painfully.

He sighed and lifted himself off of you. He slipped out and you winced at the warmth leaking from your cunt. You couldn’t look at them as their figures moved at the edge of your vision.

You were flipped over again. Weak, your resistance was met with a sharp slap to the back of the head. You lifted to your knees and Bucky stood in front of you as Steve got behind you on the mattress, his legs between yours as he gripped your hip.

Bucky stroked his dick as he gazed down at you. He shivered with the overstimulation but barely softened as he kept on. Steve angled himself past your ass and squeezed until you tilted your hips. He slid into you and groaned as he reached his limit.

“Ah, please,” you lowered your head and Bucky caught your chin.

He shushed you and pressed his tip to your lips as Steve began to rock cautiously behind you. Bucky pushed past your lips and sank down your throat as he forced your head back. Steve’s hot breaths grew ragged as a sharp clap came with each deliberate thrust.

“You take him so well, just not as good as you take me,” Bucky purred as he glided in and out of your mouth, your spit dripping down your chin and smeared around your mouth. He grabbed your head between both hands and rubbed your cheekbones with his thumbs as he moaned in delight, “fuck, I hate to waste it on your mouth,” he rasped, “better fill her up good, Steve.”

The man behind you seemed enlivened by his name. His hand went to your neck and he felt Bucky inside of you. Steve crashed into your harder and faster, the noise of wet cunt around him added to the steady slapping of skin. Your eyes rolled back as you struggled to breath and your body struggled to adjust to the constant barrage.

You almost choked as Bucky emptied himself down your throat and coughed as he pulled out. He let you fall forward onto your face as Steve kept his rampant pace. Your cunt thrummed around him and your entire body ached as he reached his peak. He slammed you back and held you there as he came in a fit of spasms.

Steve hummed and tickled your ass as Bucky lifted your head and poked his thumb into your mouth. The soldier in front of you helped push you up as Steve sat back and you were held in his lap, completely full with him.

“Got your story straight?” Bucky asked as Steve began to move you again.

“Think so,” Steve panted and Bucky rolled your tee shirt up and hooked it behind your head. He bent and played with your chest as Steve fucked you from below.

“She went missing, right? You got that intel but she was gone. You called me to help find her,” Bucky paused and teased your nipple between his teeth, “got it?”

“Got it,” Steve leaned back and groaned as he moved you in his lap.

“Don’t…” you begged in a desperate whisper.

“We’ll take care of you,” Bucky trailed his nose between your tits, “for the baby’s sake.”

⭐⭐⭐

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #drabble #dark drabble #request

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tricksters-captain · 4 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes Imagines - Look after you

AN: Requested by Anonymous - Bucky Barnes and ‘Look After You’ by The Fray - I hope you like my interpretation on it

(Want to request your own character and song inspired imagine? Send me an ask!!)

Summary: Bucky saves you from a mugger and you stay the night in his apartment

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,409

Warnings: Man cornering woman in an alley, some violence, some strong language.

You felt the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as you turned your second right corner.

The man who you thought might be following you, turned as well.

You felt sick.

What were you going to do? You didn't have your pepper spray on you and your phone had died at work.

You felt like such an idiot but you didn’t expect to be put on a double shift. You were meant to finish at 6 not at close but Julie had called in sick whilst you were already on shift and you needed the money this week.

You thought the corner you turned lead into another street but instead it was a long narrow alleyway. Your eyes searched your surroundings; you needed to find a way to get rid of your stalker.

You clutched hold of your bag as you heard the footsteps behind you pick up and then you took a deep shaky breath.

You took off.

Your follower was chasing after you but you refused to turn around in fear of falling over at the speed you were sprinting.

You felt a hand grab hold of your hair and yank you backwards.

You let out a scream as you collided with the concrete.

You scrambled around on the floor and managed to kick off your attacker.

That’s when you heard it.

The cock of the gun.

Your attacker had stood back, aiming a small handgun at you.

“Give me the purse and any other money you have on you.” The hooded man demanded.

“I don't have any money on me.” You felt tears in your eyes as you felt a throbbing in your ankle. You must've twisted it when you were trying to get the attacker off you.

Your attacker sent his foot into your ribs which made you cry out again.

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch!” Your attacker hissed.

“Now that’s not a very nice way to treat a lady.” A different voice spoke up with lay sarcasm and that’s when a rather large arm grabbed your attacker from behind him.

You watched the mystery man throw your attacker against the wall, stripping him of the gun and landing a fist straight to his face. The attacker fell to the floor unconscious.

“You alright?” Your saviour came towards you and helped you off the floor.

“T-thank you.” You were still in shock but could manage to thank the man.

“Come on. This is my apartment building. You wanna call someone?” The man looked up at the building to your left and you nodded your head.

“I’m Bucky.” Bucky finally introduced himself and you responded with your own name.

When you tried to walk, Bucky noticed you wince and fall down slightly on your ankle.

“I’m sure it’s just a sprain.” You whispered as he ducked down to help you.

He wrapped your arm around him as he held you up and you hobbled beside him to the front door.

You took the elevator up to his apartment and Bucky helped you inside.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t got much furniture.” Bucky apologised as he sat you down on his couch. “I don’t get many visitors.”

You watched the man go over to his fridge-freezer and take out an ice pack. You noticed that he wore black gloves when he cracked it in his hands.

Bucky told you to sit back on the couch and propped your leg up on his knee. Wrapping the ice pack around your ankle.

“No bed?” You tried to make conversation as you looked around the small apartment.

Beside the couch was some blankets and a pillow.

“I don’t sleep much.” Bucky muttered, his eyes flickering from your ankle to your eyes and back again.

“Veteran?” You questioned. One of your old friends from your hometown had done a couple tours and always found a bed too soft after.

“How can you tell?” Bucky asked.

“Bedsheets on the floor. My friend, Robin, he couldn’t sleep in a bed after his tour.” You explained as you shifted slightly under Bucky’s grip.

“Did you want to call someone?” Bucky asked you after a moment of silence.

“I only moved here a month ago. I don’t really have anyone to call.” You admitted quietly, slightly embarrassed at the fact the only reason you were up here was because you agreed to use the phone.

Bucky looked up at you again momentarily.

“You live round here?” Bucky asked.

“A few blocks over.” You informed him.

There was another silence.

“I know I don’t know you... But... can I stay tonight? My apartment is kinda rough and I don’t know if I can sleep there tonight after...” You felt yourself getting worked up again thinking about your attacker.

“I––” Bucky went to speak, pulling a face of uncertainty.

“I’ve leave straight away in the morning. I just... What if he wakes up and he knows where I live?” You pulled your arms around yourself as you started to overthink.

“Um, you can sleep on the couch.” Bucky didn’t know how to say no when you looked so scared.

Bucky rose to his feet, placing your ankle down on the floor gently. He walked over to a small cupboard and pulled out a blanket and some clothes.

He handed you the blanket before awkwardly excusing himself to the bathroom.

When he returned he was in a pair of jogging shorts and a long sleeved t-shirt. He still had the gloves on.

“What’s up with the gloves?” You asked, purely out of curiosity.

“Um...” Bucky looked down at his hands, “Uh, poor circulation.” He told you.

He sat down on the floor where his own blanket was and then switched on the television.

“I- uh- I can’t sleep without it.” Bucky didn’t look at you when he spoke.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, tucking yourself up on the couch.

You wouldn’t usually stay at some random guys apartment with no knowledge of him but Bucky had a weird calming effect on you. You felt safe.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep but just as quickly as you fell, you were rudely awakened by a sudden screaming.

You shot up, forgetting where you were for a minute before you heard the screaming again.

You fell off the couch, crawling over to Bucky where he was writhing on the floor.

He was covered in sweat and his shirt was soaked through.

“Bucky!” You touched him lightly, “Bucky! Wake up!” You applied more pressure, shaking the man as his screaming pained your chest.

The man jolted upwards, his cries stopped when his eyes snapped opened.

His hand grabbed your upper arm with a painfully tight grip.

“Hey, it’s me.” You cupped his face, trying to get him to look at you.

His breathing started to slow and his hand released when he caught your eyes.

“Hey...”You whispered, brushing his wet hair off his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s voice came out strangled and so you limped over to the sink and poured him some water.

“Thanks.” Bucky took the water before he pulled his t-shirt off. That’s when you noticed his arm.

It was metal. He must've suffered his loss during his time served.

Bucky didn’t see you see him.

“That must've been one hell of a dream.” You sat opposite him on the floor, crossing your legs over. Resting your sore ankle on top of your knee.

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“It’s okay.” You assured him as you reached out and told hold of his hand.

Bucky almost withdrew but when your skin was on his, he felt something wash up his arm.

“Why are you being so nice? If the guy I was rooming with was screaming in the night I would’ve left.” Bucky tried to be light-hearted. You smiled weakly at the man.

“You helped me. Only right, I do the same.” You explained. “Also, can’t exactly get far right now.” You reminded him of your ankle.

Bucky smiled for the first time since you met him and you felt your heart flutter.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” Bucky apologised again.

“You can make it up to me with breakfast.” You squeezed his hand before hauling yourself up onto the small couch again.

“And here I was wasting my time with online dating.” Bucky mumbled but you expect he didn’t mean for you to hear that last remark.

AN: Hope you like it!

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagines #winter falcon #falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #Sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagines #james buchanan barnes #imagines

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writingsbychlo · 3 years ago

Text

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

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lizzielikeborden · 4 years ago

Text

TUA- How You Meet

Authors Note: I am starting preferences please feel free to leave a request about what preferences you would like to see :).

(💙)

Luther Hargreeves: You were wandering around a science and space museum with a friend. You had just gotten done with the more chemistry and experiment section and decided to go sit down in the cafe with the stars overhead. It was basically just a green screen but gorgeous none the less. Around the cafe there were exhibits of the moon and planets. No one was really around due to the time being quite early. But, there did happen to be one man in front of the moon. He looked massive compared to the stand next to him that explained what that specific diagram was about, but even to the size of the moon diagram itself. From the time you got breakfast to the time you ate it he just stood there. Your friend finished their food earlier than you and had to use the restroom so you waited there. The man still hadn’t moved, you went and stood next to him not wanting to sit alone at the table.

“So, do you like the moon or all of space?” You kept eye contact with the moon diagram, not wanting to make the stranger uncomfortable.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first but then he sniffled and moved his hand under his eye across his cheek, “I guess just the moon.”

“Are you okay?” You turned toward him after hearing his voice crack and noticed how lightly swollen his face was. You felt bad that he was alone, because your food had at least taken 20 minutes and eating it was another 10 at best. So he had been there quite sometime, and he looked really upset.

“Uh yeah. I guess I am.” He smiled at you curving his lips towards mouth. He looked extremely tired and sad. But of course you didn’t know him and did not expect him to tell you his life story or even how his day was going right then. So instead you came up with the only thing you could think to do.

“Well, I know this is crazy, but you’re here alone so I assume you’ll eventually get bored of hanging out next to the moon alone. So,” You pulled out a receipt and a pen from your little bag and used your thigh as a table, “Here’s my number, call anytime.” You passed the piece of paper to him and he took it. Your friend was sitting at the table, so you waved him goodbye and went back to them.

Diego Hargreeves: You were grocery shopping really late at night. You had neglected to do that all day, but got bored enough at about 9:00 PM, an hour before the store closed to go shop. When you pulled up to the parking lot there were only four cars, most likely a cashier, a stocker, and one other shopper. You settled for getting a basket and only getting what you really needed. Usually you would be wide awake at night, but lately stress has been making you tired at random times. Not to mention staying up until unreasonable hours in the morning and then only sleeping 2-3 hours. You were leaning against one of the fridge doors next to the water and milk. You only needed some bottles of water, maybe pop, and milk to cook with. However you were falling asleep right against it. Until you heard a voice,

“Excuse me.” He opened the door you were leaning against thinking you would move. He assumed you were just leaning, not sleeping.

You felt your body move and instead of catching yourself or even being close to be able to you fell on your butt. Everything in your basket tumbled around on the floor, thought not much it looked like quite a mess. Instead of getting up to pick them up you just laid your head down on the cold tile floor.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” The man came over and looked over you, then got down on a knee and put two fingers on your neck to check your pulse.

“I’m alive, just extremely exhausted.” You looked at him with lazy eyes with heavy eyelids.

“Here.” He took your hand and you squeezed his, he helped pull you to your feet and picked up your things for you. He put them back in your basket and handed it back to you.

“I’m Diego.” Your hand was in yours again and you held it, even though it was to shake. So he shook and you followed in suit.

“I’m Y/N.” You let go of his hand and walked next to him.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I am gonna make sure you make it to your car at least.” He walked with you as you made your way to the self checkout.

“Thanks superman, I could really use it.” You giggled at him as you finished up. Then you took the pen from the container next to the checkout and wrote down your address and number down on the empty part of your receipt. Then ripped it off the bottom. Diego walked you to your car and unloaded all your groceries into the trunk of your car. Before he could leave you grabbed his hand and said,

“If you ever wanna check on me or anything else here’s how to find me or get ahold of me.”

He took the paper from your hand and smiled nodding at you. He took a step back from the car and you drove home.

Klaus Hargreeves: A groan came from behind the trash cans next to your apartment. You decided to take out the trash since the bag was ready to overflow. Though it may not have been a very smart or safe choice, you peeked around the corner. There you saw a grown man laying on the concrete, he looked pretty beat up. You took a few steps closer and noticed more bruises and blood on his skin. When you got close enough that he could see you he flinched and curled up into a ball with a groan.

“Hey, no, I’m not gonna hurt you. What happened?” You squatted down next to him and tried to coax him from his laying position that looked incredibly uncomfortable. He looked at your eyes and rolled over onto his back.

“Being sober fucking sucks.” He groaned and you reached out to give him a hand. He took it and sat up.

“I don’t think it sucks,” you chuckled, “I think whatever happened here is what sucks.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right,” he sighed and continued, “I was just walking home, no car, can’t drive. And I guess these big guys didn’t like what I was wearing because they were staring me down,” he put his hands around his eyes as if they were goggles and made his eyes big, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and barely grazed this guys arm. He lost it and then his buddies decided to join in.”

“Well, I can take you home or to the hospital. I have a car and I don’t think those guys will come back to break into my moving vehicle.” You stood up with his hand still in yours. He put his other hand on the ground and stood up letting you help him.

“You’d really take me home?” He let go of your hand as you walked to the parking garage.

“Yes? Of course I would. Do you want me to?” He followed behind you carefully and in pain.

You ran over and unlocked your car, then opened the passenger side door and helped him in. You buckled his seatbelt and shut the door. Then got in the drivers side and started on your way out.

“Where do you live?” You asked.

“Take like two lefts from here, go straight, and it’s the first building on the right.” He pointed and made directions with his hands.

You followed his instructions and he was dozing in and out of sleep next to you. You only lived about 15 minutes away from each other, when you arrived at his place of residency he was still asleep.

“Hi, Uh, shit I don’t know you’re name but we’re here.” You lightly shook him on his shoulder.

“My names Klaus, and thank you so much.” He took your hand and kissed it.

“I’m Y/N and you’re welcome. You know where I live and I know where you live so if you ever need me just ask for me at the front desk. I’ll be there.”

He smiled and got out of his car. As you left he turned around and waved at you as you headed home.

Ben Hargreeves: The same page hours later is where you were. You had been sitting in the back of a book store with a book you had bought trying to read it. This particular book store was quite large and had section where it was more like a library. Of course the book store was quite busy and loud with young kids picking out their first book, comic book kids freaking out over some major finds, and the people who used the computers to watch videos without headphones. With all the noise and people to look at and hear you were absolutely beyond distracted. You were about the only person in the section other than a young man with headphones on that was reading a book about a band. You were so focused on these two little kids trying to pick out books you didn’t notice someone next to you.

“Hey, we’re reading the same thing.” He spoke out, he sounded a bit nervous but kind as well.

When you broke focus and looked over at him he was still looking at you with a goofy grin on his face. You took a look at the book he was reading and the two of you were in fact reading the same thing.

“Looks like we are, I think I like your taste.” You commented back at him with a smile. He looked at you questionably,

“You think?”

“Oh well. I haven’t gotten but a few pages in, I thought this would be a great place to read considering how beautiful it is and that they sell books. But, it’s crazy everywhere here.”

“Well, if you ever want a quiet place to read, I know a good one,” he took a deep breath in, “and if you want we could read together.”

“I think i’d like that, we should hang out and read sometime, or do anything.” You spoke with a smile on your face.

“I’m Ben by the way, and if you can’t tell I don’t have many friends.” Ben was a bit awkward and clearly nervous. He had his hand in between the pages he was on and held the book that way. You could tell his hands were shaking underneath.

“I’m Y/N and I couldn’t tell at all.” You giggled at him and put a hand out for him to shake. He lifted a shaky hand and took it gently to shake.

“Not at all?”

“Maybe just a little.” You let go of his hand that you both didn’t seem to realize you still hadn’t let go.

“Here let me write down my number and uh that place I was talking about.” He looked around for a piece of paper and a pen. The longer he was taking the more red in the face he became. You took a pen out of your bag and held out your fist.

“Here just write it on my hand. I’ll write it down when I get home.” He took your hand gently and wrote down everything he said he would.

“Well, I better get home and write this somewhere it can stay.” You rose from your seat and waved him goodbye with your book that was in the same hand he had wrote on.

Five Hargreeves: 6:00 AM, a beautiful summer sun rise, and a cup of water in a coffee shop was all you needed. You had just finished writing one of the biggest papers ever and had spent all night trying to keep yourself awake. You were simply waiting for your body to crash, so you walked to the coffee shop and got a sweet treat and some water. You were the only one there, since they weren’t even open when you showed up. The bell above the door rang and the old lady who was waitressing had just started making some fresh donuts and coffee.

“It’ll be done in just a moment.” She spoke kindly and continued to her baking.

A young man dressed in what looked like a school uniform sat down next to you. He looked over and you and you returned his gaze.

“Come here often?” He asked you, he turned to face forward instead of keeping eye contact. He had a light smirk on his face and he put his hands up on the table connected together by his fingers.

“No not really, do you?” You took a sip of your water and looked forward copying him.

“Yes actually, all the time, well I used to at least. Just now getting back to being around here.” He tapped his right hand on the table, disconnecting it from the other one.

The old woman came back over and put a mug of black coffee directly in front of him. He nodded his head and thanked her, picking up his cup he sipped at the coffee.

“You drink black coffee? Just like that?” You questioned, you had never really seen anyone your age not put anything in their coffee.

“Yes.” He gestured toward his cup showing you that there was clearly nothing else in it.

“Hm. Never had it.” You drank the last of your water and sat the glass down.

“Maybe you should come around here more, I’ll get you some to try.” He said looking at you again as you rose from your seat.

“Maybe I will.” You smiled at him.

“I know you will.” He smiled back and then turned back around.

He knows I will? What? You thought to yourself after stepping outside into the warm air. You thought he was quite weird, but that was the least of it. Just wait until the day you learned his name was Five.

#luther hargreeves #luther hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x you #diego x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves #five x reader #five imagine #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves

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eyayah-oya · 3 years ago

Note

Fives/Tup for self-sacrifice if it's still available? ❤ (No character death please. *side eyes canon*)

Okay, so I finally got around to working on some more of the 200 follower bingo prompts (I'm sorry it's taken so long) and this one was extremely easy to write. I hope you enjoy it :)

200 Follower Bingo | Self-Sacrifice | Fives/Tup Rating: G Pairing: Fives/Tup Warnings: none Ao3

bingo card under the cut

Drama, thy name is Fives

“TUP LOOK OUT!!”

“Fives, NO! DON’T!”

It was too late. Dark red smeared across his chest plate and dripped down his body. Tup looked in horror from where Fives had shoved him out of the way. He’d taken the shot meant for Tup, and was now lying on the ground, groaning pitifully.

“No! No no no no! I can’t do this without you,” Tup cried as he fell to his knees next to Fives and attempted to wipe the red away but only succeeded in smearing it further across Fives’s armor. “I can’t face them alone!”

“You’re strong,” Fives wheezed, every breath a gasp. “And smart. They won’t—” he coughed viciously, “stand a chance against you. Show ‘em what you can do, Tup.”

“But I’m just a regular trooper. I’m not an ARC like you,” Tup whimpered.

“Coulda fooled me,” Fives grinned through a wheeze and weakly brushed another drop of red from his lips. “Get outta here. Don’t—don’t want ‘em to get you, too.”

Tup swallowed heavily, but he stood up, determined to show those bastards that Torrent can’t be taken down that easily. He picked up the DC-15LR he’d dropped and darted off into the constructed maze. He could hear the others pursuing him, their armor clattering faintly and boots scuffling across the concrete floor. He needed to get some elevation—General Kenobi always said that the high ground gave an advantage over any enemies and that’s what Tup needed at the moment. The 15LR was a good gun, but the sniper rifle was also tricky to wield in the tight confines of the corridors and sharp corners within the maze. A tower would be the best position. He’d lost the regular blaster that he was more used to, but he’d also picked a few things up from Echo.

Swinging around a tight corner, Tup fired three times at the figure in front of him, splattering 501st blue on the standard red armor of the Coruscant Guard. While the Corrie Commander—Thorn, he remembered—was distracted by getting shot three times in the chest, Tup leapt onto a window sill and swung himself up on top of the low building in the Guard’s Playground. He ducked behind a low wall, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the sniper the Guard had set up in the far tower, and then jumped to the next low building over. He needed to get to a tower or work his way closer to the main base for the Guard all without getting hit.

Distantly, he heard Fives shouting insults at some of the Guards. Good, he was up. Tup did not envy him at all—getting the wind knocked out of him during a paintball game with the Guard was dangerous.

“Tup, get to the other tower and switch rifles with Kix. We’re gonna show those shitheads who is the best!” Jesse said over the comm.

“On my way,” Tup answered. He swerved around a wall and leapt over a small gap, sprinting as fast as he could as a Guard started firing at him from below. He hadn’t gotten hit yet this round thanks to Fives’s sacrifice, and he wanted to keep that streak going.

It took him five minutes to reach the tower where Torrent had set up a base and he dove behind the barriers in time to avoid a barrage of red paint.

“Great job, Tup,” Hardcase praised. “We’ve got a couple of other blasters for you that’ll work better I think.”

“Good. I can work with the long rifle, but I prefer the regular blasters,” Tup said. “Kix can do more damage with it than I can.”

“Damn straight I can,” Kix said over the comms. “Jesse, bring it up to me and a couple more of those paint grenades that Hardcase didn’t bring.”

“Copy that,” Jesse said with a grin. He took the sniper long rifle from Tup and a small bag full of paint grenades from Hardcase before sprinting up the tower towards Kix’s nest.

Hardcase handed Tup a blaster and his own bag of grenades and they both grinned. “Let’s go show ‘em who’s boss!” Hardcase crowed.

Tup whooped and followed, charging out and nailing Commander Thire and Sergeant Hound as they sprinted past. Oya Torrent!

When the time ran out and both teams trooped into the ready room, Tup was pleased to see that the Guard had far more blue paint on them than Torrent had red. It was a very clear win for Torrent, especially since Echo and Dogma had managed to steal the flag from the Guard’s base and snuck it over to Torrent’s base without anyone realizing.

Hardcase and Jesse lifted Dogma onto their shoulders, cheering him on and chanting his name while Kix just shook his head at their antics. Tup couldn’t stop smiling, euphoric from their win as he pushed past the others on his team to get to Fives.

Fives saw him coming and nudged Echo out of the way in time for Tup to crash into him, their lips slamming together in a bruising kiss. And then Fives picked him up and spun him around, grinning widely up at him. “You didn’t get hit once! You’re gonna be a kriffing Legend, I just know it!”

“Fives~” Tup giggled and then leaned down to kiss him again, gentler this time, but no less passionate. “Thanks for taking that shot for me,” he murmured. “You’re my hero.”

“Anytime,” Fives answered. “Come on, I owe you drinks at 79s and a karking good burger. We gotta celebrate our win properly.”

“Deal.”

#200 follower bingo #prompt | self-sacrifice #cloneshipping #clone/clone #fives/tup #arc trooper fives #clone trooper tup #shenanigans #corrie guard v torrent rivalry #paintball #no character death

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lebenspurpur · 3 years ago

Note

Baby firefly smut? Anything nsfw for baby idc

I love Baby so much istg. Also I got two requests about Baby so here you go, sorry that took so long.

Pairing: Baby Firefly x reader

Summary: Baby walks in on reader pleasuring themselves. Just as you'd expect, she joins them.

Warnings: smut, thigh riding

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

Baby groaned and rubbed her forehead. She was sitting on the dusty couch in the living room, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. Her usual cheerful attitude was gone and replaced by annoyance.

The rest of the Fireflys were out of the house. That meant she was alone with her brother and you. She planned on getting high while watching TV and then maybe deal with one of the girls in the basement later. However, something was currently destroying the first part of her plan.

The speaker in the TV quietly played one comical noise after another while Looney Tunes ran for his life. If it was just a little louder it would conceal the hushed sounds coming from the room above her. Soft moans and quiet creaks sickered through the old wooden floor boards. In any other house, the concrete walls would conceal the evidence of someone’s doings upstairs, but not here.

Baby removed the hands from her face and threw a hateful glance at the ceiling. She had told Otis multiple times that she didn’t appreciate the noises coming from his victims but to him, her opinion was as important as everyone else’s. So not at all.

The groans grew louder and Baby huffed. She stood up and proceeded to brush the dust of the old cloth off of her clothing. With a swear on her lips she trudged forwards and up the stairs. Otis would get it now.

The stairs creaked as she hurried upstairs, blonde locks energetically whipping behind her head. Her lips were pressed together in a tight line. This was her chance of relaxing and she won’t let it get ruined by her adoptive brother‘s perversion.

She slammed the door the the white haired man‘s room open and froze. It was empty. The tall lunatic was nowhere to be seen. Baby’s forehead wrinkled in confusion and she hesitantly placed her hand on the doorframe.

A quiet gasp made her head whip around and stare at the door across of her. Your door.

Baby‘s feet carried her forwards and she softly opened your door.

There you were, laying on the sheets of the stained bed, legs wide apart and a hand between your legs. You quickly threw the blanket over your naked legs upon hearing the sound of the door opening. Baby looked shocked for a brief moment but the expression disappeared as fast as it came. She was smirking now and slowly started to strut into your room.

“And here I was, thinking my stupid fucking brother was making those sinful sounds.” she whispers sensually. “But”, she is standing in front of the bed now, ”it’s actually you, sugar.”

Baby climbs on the bed, removes the blanket and slowly sinks down on your hips. You gasp and try to push her off your body, away from the sensitive skin that longs after her touch.

Baby just giggles and slaps your hands away.

“Uh-uh. No touching.” she scolds playfully and leans forward to grab the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on your nightstand.

She empties it and you hungrily watch her throat move with every swallow. The bottle soon gets thrown on the floor but neither of you seem to care about it anymore.

Her eyes are locked onto yours. You shudder under the intensity of the gaze. The shudder traveled down your body and made the area between your legs throb with need.

With a soft groan you bucked up into her hips and tried to get some long awaited friction. Baby involuntarily closed her eyes and hummed breathlessly.

That was enough for you to continue the movement. The woman on top of you moaned quietly and then quickly, as if she heard something you didn’t, shot her eyes open.

”You had your fun darling. How bout’ letting me get some huh?“ she whispered and leaned down. Her criminally hot lips found your neck and she slowly peppered kisses down the soft skin.

You threw your head back into the soft pillow and groaned. The ache between your legs sent throbbing shocks of pleasure through your whole body. Every time Baby moved, you flinched, her hot skin too much to handle.

Your lover sat up straight again. She pressed down on your crotch in the process, a smirk evident on her angelic features. You clenched your fists around the sheets.

Baby now started to remove her shirt. Her pink bra followed. Soon her soft breasts were on full display in front of you.

The blonde grinned at you and started massaging the flesh.

“Like what‘cha see?” she asked innocently and something inside of you snapped.

In less than a second you we’re sitting up and your mouth attached to her breasts. Baby tried to push you away but as soon as your tongue found her nipple her fingers just tangled in your hair. She tugged on the strands, pulling you closer to her chest.

Baby muttered incoherent scoldings under her breath but you could tell that she craved a release as much as you did.

Your tongue travelled over her skin, leaving wet trails. Your teeth found her hardened nipple and softly rolled the sensitive piece of flesh inbetween them. Baby groaned and her grip on your hair tightened.

Your hands gripped her hips. Using her distracted state, you moved her over to your thigh. Baby let go of your hair and quickly complied, straddling your leg.

The blonde's hands cup your face and she pulls you in. Her kiss is messy and needy and soon she breaks it, teeth piercing your lip.

Your hands start guiding her hips over your thigh and Baby clings to your shoulders for support. Her hips move synchronised with your hands, applying nearly painful pleasure to her pussy.

You rock her back and forth, taking in every single expression while she pleasures herself on your leg.

And oh what a sight. Her face was contorted of pleasure. Mouth widen open, eyebrows arched up and eyes closed. Baby was a beautiful sight to look at.

The woman on top of you was close to her release. You could feel the throbbing on your thigh, her hot sex rubbing against you.

Her desire and lust sparked yours and you groaned, grabbing her hips tighter. Baby whined breathlessly and bucked into your leg.

"Fuck...", Baby's breathing was hitched, "Please.."

You pressed her down, eager to finish her off and Baby moaned shamelessly. Her lips found yours again, tongues dancing in a heated kiss.

"Fuck please..", Baby whined into your mouth, mouth breathing your air. You dipped down, caressing her nipple and Baby opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her trembling legs tightly clenched around your thigh as she came. Her release spilled onto your leg, wetting it furthermore.

Baby's head fell forwards and she snuggled into your neck. The two of you stayed there for a few minutes, the only sound in the room being her breathing.

Finally, she moved her legs and the sudden sensation made both of you groan out in overstimulation. Baby chuckled and her lips found yours again. Her hand started to touch your thigh, leaving light scratches on your sensitive legs.

You bucked your hips with a sigh and Baby grinned before she kissed you again.

"I just can't seem to get enough, sugar"

#Baby Firefly x reader #Slashers x reader #Baby firefly smut

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bratkook · 4 years ago

Text

girls in bikinis. (m) kth.

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: smut, pwp word count: 5.3k warnings: exhibitionism, unprotected sex, partially clothed sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, creampie, he fucks her in roller skates okay and its light and playful author’s note: this came to me as i washed my dishes and listened to this song by poppy and idk what possessed me to write this when i have 2471819 other wips i should be focusing on but i hope u enjoy it lmaooo

As the sun beats down on Taehyung, beads of sweat trickling down his neck while he cruises on his long board along the concrete path right on the beach, he doesn’t think he regrets encouraging your new hobby more than he does right now

You see when you first voiced your desire to learn to roller skate Taehyung had found it endearing, even going as far as purchasing the skates for you as a surprise because you had been so excited watching videos online of other girls gliding around.

When you finally got them and slipped them on, stumbling around like a baby deer discovering they had legs, he thought it would be an adorable hobby. Seeing you bundled up with your knee pads, matching elbow pads ready to catch your fall and a helmet strapped tightly under your chin.

It all screamed cute.

But your determination had set it, constantly practicing out on the sidewalk or in the shoddy parking lot of your apartment complex, not caring how many times you bruised your tailbone with your nasty falls until they slowly minimized.

Soon enough Taehyung had stopped providing you ice packs and comforting words when you took a tumble and instead he had begun to watch in awe as your strides got more confident, no longer afraid to apply pressure onto your toe stops when you caught some speed, mixing in some cool spins as you skated around him in circles.

With that added confidence came the fact that you no longer needed to be wrapped up in safety gear as extensively as you used to be which is what landed him in this situation, watching you glide along beside him with the skimpiest outfit on.

This no longer screamed cute, no this entire thing was currently shouting sexy in his head so loud it was a surprise no one around him could hear it.

Taehyung swallows down a groan when you push out so you’re ahead of him now, the scrape of your wheels mixing in with his own. His eyes trail up your body, seeing how your legs glimmer in the sun thanks to the body oil you had lathered on before you, making your entire body look like its glowing.

The expanse of your legs are out for the world to see and he’s almost positive if you bent over just slightly he’d catch a peak of the underwear you currently had on because these black cut off shorts were purely for aesthetic purposes.

Its not until you whirl around on your skates, gliding backwards with your arms and head bobbing along to the music you had blasting from your phone in your back pocket, that his eyes zero in on your tits. Taehyung can’t hold the groan back this time, not with the way he sees them bounce and jiggle with each stride of your legs, only being caged in by the tiniest triangle bikini top you had so graciously slipped on.

He knew you did this on purpose, did this just for him, color coordinating your orange top to match the suede of your skates and passing it off as a cute notion. Taehyung had gotten drunk a few nights ago, and with the added alcohol came the slip of his tongue, confessing how hot he thought you looked as you rolled around and how much hotter you’d look if you did it in just your underwear.

You, being ever the people pleaser, weren’t going to let him down. Of course you weren’t clad in your bra and panties but this was definitely second best and when you catch his dazed out expression it proves you right.

His foot mindlessly keeps pushing himself forward, coming back onto his board robotically to continue the glide while you shimmy your chest at him tauntingly.

“My eyes are up here.” You quip teasingly, your hand coming up to rake through your hair as you shoot him a dazzling smile. Thats when he finally blinks out of his daze, meeting your eyes with a cheeky smile on his own face.

“Oh I know,” he shrugs, rocking on his board as he glides side to side, his wheels kissing the edge of the path each way as he does so, “prefer staring at your tits though.”

A snort leaves you at his comment, swirling back around to face forward, slowing your pace down until you’re once again right beside him. You turn your head to look at him, smirking when you see him staring at you already, “Figured, that’s kind of why I wore this.”

“Ah,” he sighs out, his hand reaching forward to grab your own in a sweet notion as he matches your speed, “so I fell into your trap?”

The soft laugh you let out makes the horniness that's clouding his brain clear up, paired with the fact that he can no longer see the way your boobs bounce with every crack on the floor, he has a moment to cleanse his impure thoughts.

“Yeah, it’s all going according to plan.”

Taehyung laughs fully at that now, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles, his ash blonde hair being fluffed up from the wind and the speed at which he pushes off the floor, “Oh yeah?”

A small hum is your only response, mimicking his movements and pushing forward once more to make room for bikers approaching you, once again giving him the glorious view of your ass and legs.

“And how does this plan of yours end exactly?”

You spin around once more, the action smooth and nothing at all compared to the way you struggled months ago, your hand still grasping his own as he helps guide you from any oncoming people. There's a glint in your eye that he can’t pinpoint but he knows its trouble, it usually always is with you.

“With you fucking me.”

His brows arch up at your lewd comment, how you said it so nonchalantly, almost as if you were discussing a grocery list. His balance falters slightly as he wobbles on his feet, your hand being the saving grace that stops him from face planting onto the hot cement. That would definitely sober his filthy thoughts up just as quickly as they came, nothing like good road burn to help him stop sinning.

“Well let's go then.” He chokes out, ready to drag you to his awaiting car, maybe you’d let him defile you in his backseat if you were this horny but you shock him once more when your shoulders shrug. A playful frown on your face as you look behind you, your eyes focusing on the surrounding buildings, “Why?”

“What do you mean why, you said you want me to fuck you or am I reading this all wrong?”

Another laugh bubbles out of you, the sound sweet and angelic as if you aren’t currently thinking of him rearranging your guts in the unholiest of places

“Oh no, I definitely want you to fuck me but why leave?”

That’s when the realization hits him, his eyes widening up as his mouth drops open when he understands just what you’re suggesting, “Here?”

A simple nod is sent his way, your smile widening when he looks around in exasperation, almost as if he can’t fathom that you’d let him do whatever he wanted to you in any location. “But we’re in public!” He hisses out, his cheeks warming up to a blush and its adorable.

“So, I’m horny and I want you to fuck me. Are you game?”

As adventurous as Taehyung was, he'd never, ever, fooled around in public and as much as he wanted to, the fear of getting caught and possibly being thrown into jail always stopped him. But the way you look right now is making all of his logical thinking go straight into the gutter and he can’t find it in himself to care, not when he can see this whole thing play out in his mind.

With every blink of his eyes he sees flashes of you, pressed against the side of a building as you moan out his name, the feel of your oiled up skin against his fingertips as he grips into your hips and fucks you from behind, the thrill of having to keep quiet.

He feels his cock spur to life in his shorts and that is absolutely the only convincing he needs to make his feet come down with a thump, haphazardly hopping off of his board and yanking you to an abrupt stop, his hands having to catch you before you topple over from the force of it all.

“Hell yeah I’m game, but if we get caught it’s all your fault.”

He wastes no time scooping his board up and tucking it underneath his arm as he takes off, dragging you behind him while he hauls you off the bike path and onto the crowded boardwalk. His grip on you is secure as your wheels wobble on the uneven path, his pace speeding up when your laughter reaches his ear.

A smirk spreads onto his face as his eyes bounce along each building, determined to find a location good enough for your rendezvous. The small whispers you send him make him feel like you’re a little devil perched onto his shoulder, luring him into making the worst decisions with the best outcomes.

“You gotta be quiet Y/N.” Taehyung whispers with a laugh, his hands placed on your ass, pushing you into the small alleyway between two buildings you had both deemed good enough for the scandalous act you were about to perform.

You have to bite your lip to prevent teasing words from slipping through, your heart was currently pounding in your chest as reality hits you, not believing just how easy it was to convince Taehyung do to anything involving sex.

It’s almost comical how he rolls you deeper into the small hiding spot, his board slipping from its spot under his arm and landing on the floor in a loud thunk. The sound echoes all around you but he can’t focus on that right now, completely ignoring the scowl you send his way after he had just shushed you into silence.

“You gotta be quiet–” You mock him, the end of your words being muffled out when he slaps his palm over your mouth, a taunting look on his face as he pushes you against the brick wall. The heels of your boots thud against the building as your back presses flush against it, the gritty texture of the wall digs into your back but any complaints you have get stuck in your throat when you see the look in his face, your breath huffing against his hand, the tiniest smile creeping onto your lips.

“Don’t worry about me baby,” he whispers out, his face inching closer to yours. His eyes sneak a side glance towards the opening of the alley way, seeing the occasional person walking past blissfully unaware that the two of you were tucked away in here, “unless you want people to see how desperate you are for my cock you need to keep that pretty mouth of yours closed okay?”

A stiff nod and a hum against his palm is all you give him, your eyes staring straight into his as he takes a moment to ogle you. His gaze trails down your neck, onto the swells of your chest covered in the tiny orange bikini, his head tilting slightly as he watches the rise and fall as you try to steady your breathing.

“Nervous?” Taehyung teases, choosing now to remove his palm from your mouth.

“No,” you breathe out a laugh, resting onto your left toe stop as you sag against the wall, “I’m excited.”

Of course you were, this had been your plan after all. Get Taehyung so hot and bothered he’d do anything you asked and he had fallen right into your grasp, not that he had any complaints.

“You fucking minx.” He jokes, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss, the smell of the sunscreen he had slathered his face in invades your senses, it reminds you of summer and you know after today it’ll also remind you of this moment.

Your lips drop open as he licks his way into your mouth, groaning when his tongue slithers against yours. Your arms hook around his neck, tugging him closer as he lightly licks the roof of your mouth before pulling back with a hum.

“Gotta be quick yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, letting his hands grip your sides, his thumb softly rubbing your waist on his way down to the button of your shorts, “hurry.”

The bouncing wheels of skateboarders whizzing by a few feet away has you gasping in excitement, Taehyung shooting you a wink when he catches the thrilling look on your face at the prospect of getting caught, “You got it.”

Taehyung pops the button of your shorts open, the sound reaching your ears, aiding in the small rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The metallic scrape of your zipper being yanked down joins the air, his long fingers dipping into the waist of them and tugging them down your legs until they catch around your knees from the way your thighs are spread out.

He eyes the tiny pastel orange panties you chose to wear, your entire outfit being carefully thought out for this exact moment and it makes him chuckle under his breath, he really had fallen right into your trap.

His fingers toy with your underwear, following the edge of it as it curves into your inner thighs, a shiver wracking through your body at the ticklish feeling, a slight detour being taken when his thumb presses into the damp patch decorating the front of it.

A wiggle of your eyebrows is sent his way when he eyes you teasingly, “Who would’ve thought you’d get this wet just thinking about me fucking you out in the open.”

“Please, I get soaked just thinking about you doing literally anything.”

He knew that much to be true, taking pride in being the main reason your panties were ruined.

Its not until the sound of people talking reaches his ears that he remembers he needs to hurry up, the idea of being caught was definitely hot but actually getting caught wasn’t so he once again grips your hips and turns you around.

Your heavy wheels clank against the ground at the change of position, your hands gripping the rough wall to keep you steady as he moves you, the rolling of your wheels only making him laugh.

“Uh, you’re gonna have to lean on your thingy to stop from rolling.”

“My toe stop?” You tease, putting pressure on your right foot to help stabilize you as he places a palm on your back, his fingers tracing the ties of your bikini top as he pushes you forward.

“Yes you smart ass.”

With you no longer rolling back onto him he deems himself ready to continue, his palms roaming over the smooth expanse of your exposed ass. You had clearly covered your entire body in that damn oil, not leaving a single area bare of the jasmine scented liquid which Taehyung had now decided was his new favorite thing.

“Hurry up and fuck me.” You whine out, your hips jutting further back, not at all expecting the swift slap he lands on your left cheek. His large palm swats against your skin so hard it bounces off the walls, the gasp getting stuck in your throat when everything falls into silence once more, half expecting someone to peek their head in from how loud it had been but it luckily never comes. He soothes your warm skin with his palm, kneading your flesh gently as he bit his lip.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for me baby.” He scolds, his thumb hooking around your underwear and yanking it to the side, revealing your dripping slit to him. His other hand comes forward to let his fingers trail up your folds in a teasing motion, softly tracing up and around, not being able to resist teasing you further. When his index finger glides through your slick with ease his mouth drops open in awe, forever being prideful at the effect he has on you.

The small whine spills out of your lips when he slowly dips his finger in, enjoying the way your walls pulse around the tip of it before he pushes in to the hilt, starting a slow rhythm as he pulls out and thrusts back in, quickly adding a second finger and scissoring them inside of you to properly stretch you out for his cock.

“Mm Taehyung,” you sigh out, your head falling forward to rest against the cool wall as he continues to fuck you open. Each thrust of his long fingers has you keening, more of your arousal gushing out of you in excitement, becoming more and more desperate as he continues, “fuck I’m ready please.”

He playfully hums in thought from behind you, not entirely convinced two fingers would be enough for you to adjust to him. “I don’t think you are Y/N.”

The way your pussy clamps around his third finger when you feel the tip of a prod at your entrance proves his assumption correct, but he could take care of that. He knew you body well enough, having the motions down to a science. The way he curls his fingers, alternating between spreading them out and nudging against the sweet patch inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you’re fully relaxed in his hands, your hips rocking back into him at the feeling of being so full.

“There you go sweetheart,” he coos, his eyes slipping shut for a moment as he focuses on the wet thumping every time his palm hits your ass when he thrusts into you. The softest moans fill the otherwise silent alley, your fingers desperately clutching the wall, no doubt scraping your skin but that was a problem for later on, right now all you could think about was how amazing Taehyung’s fingers felt inside your cunt.

“Fuck, nngh please Tae.” You plead, twisting your body slightly to crane your head over your shoulder, hoping the clear desperation etched onto your features was enough to have him whip his cock out and fuck you like you wanted.

Your wide eyes glimmer with unshed tears from frustration and he takes pity on you, slipping his shiny fingers out of your pussy and popping them into his mouth like second nature. As if you needed him to do more to turn you on he has to go and lick your arousal off of his digits like it was his favorite candy.

“Okay,” he murmurs out, undoing his own shorts and yanking them down just enough for his cock to spring free. The visual of it out in the open almost makes those tears pool over, his large hand wrapping around the girth of it as he lazily pumps his aching length inches away from you, “you ready?” He questions, bringing his palm to his mouth to noisily spit into it, using it to lube up his cock as he steps closer to you.

“Yes.” You breathe out, rolling your lips together as you face the wall again, your head hanging low as you wait, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

Taehyung steps in between your legs, keeping them nice and spread apart, yanking your underwear to the side to reveal your sodden folds to him once more. He licks his lips over as he guides the head of his cock towards your entrance, the slight pressure of it pressing against you has you sighing out, gritting your teeth together to keep from shouting at him to hurry up.

Finally, he eases his way inside, his bulbous head breaching your entrance, the stretch that accompanies it beating the feel of his three fingers from before. This was what you wanted, his thick cock stretching you apart and filling you up the way he knew best.

Taehyung holds in a groan when your walls tighten around him when he bottoms out, his hips fully flushed against yours, the two of you panting as he stills inside of you.

“You okay?” He whispers, his fingers moving to grip your hips once more to help ground himself as he waits for a response from you. The sound of more people approaching has your walls pulsing around him and he groans, “Fuck, of course you’re okay. You fucking love this huh?”

A small whimper of his name is all you let out, the idea of being caught in the act making the words stick to your throat, instead you push back onto him, urging him to move.

Taehyung takes the hint, a smile gracing his face as he slowly inches back, beginning to rock into you in a steady rhythm, his pace increasing every time you let a tiny moan slip out from between your grit teeth, a small reward for being vocal because he wants you to let anyone listening know it was him making you feel good.

“Answer me baby.”

The squelching sounds of his dick hammering into you fill the air, the lewd moans finally leaving you with no qualms about who could possibly hear, “Fuck, yes I love it.”

He hums in appreciation, his hips fucking into you with more force at your admission, new determination settling inside of him to get you to fall apart, not an ounce of shame remains at getting caught.

Taehyunt can’t lie, he knows he loves it too, loves the way you’re letting him claim you in public, the way your moans echo in the space you’re in, your hand gripping the wall. A squeal leaves your lips, mixed in with a breathless laugh, when he angles his hips just right.

“Such a good girl,” he grunts out, gripping your hips tighter when you squeeze him, “letting me fuck you like this. Want everyone to see that you’re mine huh?”

One of his hands curls around your front, trailing up your body until he reaches your skimpy top. He yanks the fabric of your bikini to the side, his palm squeezing a handful of your tits as he continues to thrust into you, the coolness of his palm contrasting with the warmth of your chest.

“Just yours, only yours.” You slur out, your brain turning into putty when his dick curves just right. The way his hand squeezes and tugs at your exposed nipple has your mind spinning, your body being jostled by his thrusts and in turn making the foot that remains flat on the floor roll back and forth from the force.

“Ah, baby,” he laughs as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipple, hearing a small hum in response from you, “you’re rolling again.”

Taehyung slows his thrusts, rocking in to you more calmly as you grunt in frustration, neither of you took into account how inconvenient fucking in roller skates would be.

“My calves are cramping from holding my feet like this.” You admit with a laugh, feeling Taehyung lean his head forward until it rested in the juncture of your neck, his soft breaths hitting your skin as he chuckled.

“Okay, here bring them down flat.” He guides you, holding you steady as you even out the weight on your skates, a tiny yelp escaping you when you begin to roll down on the uneven alley floor. Taehyung repositions his feet to rest right behind the skates to keep you from sliding further, an experimental thrust of his hips being sent your way to test the hold, “Better?”

When you no longer roll back, just bump forward slightly, you sigh in relief, “Yeah, so much better. C’mon keep fucking me.” You plead, your palm coming down to wrap around the hand currently groping your tits, urging him on and he listens.

“Whatever you want baby.” He mumbles against your skin, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder as he pulls his hips back, rearing forward in a brutal pace that has you nearly shouting out. Your body hunches forward more freely now, no longer afraid of rolling away, instead your hand slides down the rough wall as you moan out his name.

His eyes catch on to the way you’re soaking his cock, leaving it slick and shiny with your arousal each time he pulls out. Taehyung feels like his mind is swimming, the whines of his name and the way you rut your hips back on him is the only anchor keeping him in the present.

He releases your nipple, trailing the hand down your front until it dips past your underwear and reaches your clit. Your reaction is instant, a loud gasp filling the air as your walls clamp down at the stimulation when he begins to rub tight circles on your sensitive nub.

“Oh god Taehyung,” you cry out, placing both hands on the wall and throwing your head back in pleasure, “you always fuck me so good.”

He grunts at your confession, the slight ego boost inflating his chest, the tiny licks of pleasure curling in his gut as he feels his release approaching, “Mm yeah? You’re creaming my cock baby, you enjoying yourself?”

Taehyung marvels at the way your back arches further, focusing on the way your ass bounces with every thrust of his hips and he can’t help himself when he delivers another harsh smack onto one of your cheeks, watching as the skin ripples and smarts at the slap.

“Ah,” you mewl, the sting of his palm sending tingles of pleasure up your spine. Your velvety walls pulse around him, always one to enjoy a little pain with your pleasure, “yes! F-fuck, I’m close Tae.”

He can tell, the way you’re sucking him in further every time he pulls out, desperate to keep him buried to the hilt, “You gonna cum like this? Gonna let everyone hear what a filthy girl you are?”

The taunting tone of his voice has your stomach tightening, the small coil of pleasure winding up inside of you with every roll of his hips, every deliberate flick of his finger against your clit. Your head turns to the side, having a clear view of the opening of the alley way, seeing the occasional person walking by. You never thought you’d enjoy the thrill of this as much as you did but the oncoming release you feel is evidence enough that you were thoroughly enjoying yourself.

“C’mon baby, let everyone hear you.” He groans out, a smile gracing his face when he hears the way you instantly do as he says, lewd moans of his name bouncing off the wall as you edge closer to your release. “Good girl.”

Your walls spasm around his cock at the praise, a few more flicks of his finger paired with his length expertly hitting your g spot every time is all it takes for your orgasm to crash over you. Your head falls forward, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as your mind momentarily blanks, every nerve in your body lighting up as you come undone.

“Oh fuck–“ your moan dies in your throat when your body tenses up, small shocks coursing through you as he continues to roll your clit, enjoying the small twitches your body gives him.

Taehyung gasps when your walls tighten even further around him, his hand retreating from your clit to firmly grasp your hips to continue fucking you through it, seeking his own release now, grunt of pleasure escaping his open mouth and reaching your ears.

“Shit,” the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy is what sends him over, his thrusts getting sloppier until hes surging forward, his cock twitching as he pumps his hot cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim with a sigh of your name.

Your forehead rests against the cold wall as you try to catch your breath, the pounding of your heart can be felt in your ears as you come down. The breathy moans of Taehyung get closer as he tucks his chin over your shoulder, still buried deep inside of you.

“That was...so fucking hot.” He confesses, a wide smile spreading across his face when he feels your body vibrate with laughter.Carefully, he slides out of you, the both of you groaning at the loss of contact.

When Taehyung pulls away and slips his softening length back into his shorts, his eyes stay glued to the way his cum coats your folds, slowly dripping out of you. That was totally unacceptable so he gathers some of it onto his fingers and stuffs it back inside you before he readjusts your underwear to fully cover you, sliding your shorts back up your legs and helping you spin back around, readjusting your top with a grin.

“My legs feel like jello.” You admit when your balance falters, Taehyung having to grip your hips tighter to keep you from toppling over onto the gross floor.

“What can I say, my dicks just that good.”

He dodges the smack he knows is coming, a deep laughing filling the air as he ducks away from you, laughing louder when your horrible aim makes you wobble around.

“Tae!” You whine, an adorable pout on your face when he only laughs some more. Your arms cross over your chest as you stare at him with a slight scowl, “Help me.”

The smile on his face softens as he looks down at you, his hands trailing along your arms to unfold them and gently clasp his fingers around yours. “Of course I’ll help you baby.”

That satisfies you, standing up straighter now that he had a hold of you, “You think we can make it to the car without either of us face planting it?”

His eyes narrow in thought, the odds really weren’t in either of your favor but an idea pops into his mind, the curl of his lips indicating just how evil he was but you miss it, too focused on not catching your wheel on a pebble. Your legs were once again reminiscent of bambi and as much as he acted like he was unaffected, blowing his load in you had made his own legs feel boneless too.

“I mean, if we fall at least we fall together?”

Right, that seemed to be the best outcome but it was fine by you and way better than the two of you staying in this dingy alley way for much longer.

He leads you out of the alley, bending forward to pick up his discarded board before exiting the hiding spot and reentering the real world. It feels like you hadn’t seen the sunlight in ages, your eyesight spotting for a second before you adjusted to the brightness of your surroundings.

Taehyung uses that to his advantage, placing his board back on the floor as he stares at you, not yet noticing that he had let your hand go because the sun was absolutely blinding.

“I’ll race you to the car.” He shouts out, not giving you a moment to respond or argue about it before he hops onto his board and takes off, his foot pushing off the floor in a haste to win.

Your mouth drops open when you see him bolt, your brows furrowing tightly on your forehead, in disbelief that he had abandoned you after claiming he’d help you, “Asshole!” You shout after him, missing the way he smiles when the words reach his ears. With that comes the scraping of your own wheels as you take off after him, a small grimace on your face when you feel the way your ruined underwear sticks to your skin.

Soon enough you’re speeding right past him, your hair flowing behind you and the muscles on your legs flexing from the force of your pushes. Taehyung lets out another loud laugh, a change of position from earlier, this time you had fallen into his trap and everything was going according to plan. With you now a few feet ahead of him Taehyung can freely ogle at your body without a care in the world.

Checkmate.

#btsghostie #btswritingcafe #bts smut #taehyung smut #tae smut #taehyung fluff #bts imagine #bts writing #kim taehyung

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getitinbusan · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberry Lemonade

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+

Even if you could decide, why would you want to? Both men were perfect in extremely different ways yet, your longing for both of them was beginning to feel greedy.

Pairing: Reader x Tae x Jungkook

Words: 3850

Warnings: 18+ threesome, MF vaginal sex, MF anal sex, MF oral sex, unprotected sex, swearing.

You weren't technically staff, it was a loophole that benefited everyone. While the crew stayed in coach, you were up front with Jungkook as he helped stash your camera equipment into the first class overhead. In 7 hours you'd be in Bali for a week in paradise.

"Y/N's sitting with me, she already promised." Taehyung pulled your hand towards the middle aisle.

Pouting, Jungkook popped his air pods in and took his seat.

It was a competition, pure and simple. Like a new shiny toy Jungkook and Taehyung both wanted you. Everyone knew and the game of one upmanship was getting a little out of control. But somehow, caught in the middle wasn't such a bad place to be.

Dim and quiet most of the plane was already asleep. Taehyung snored softly as you wiggled out from underneath his heavy grasp. You didn't want to disturb him but the days makeup needed to come off before you settled in for the night.

Taken by surprise, Jungkook stood with a smile waiting outside when you opened the bathroom door.

"I think we need to talk about something." He guided you back into the tiny room.

"What's that Kookie?"

His lips parted before he quickly pressed them onto yours. His hands were still holding your face as he broke away.

"I see the way you look at me and I think you want me just as much as I want you."

You loved being playful with Jungkook, teasing him was definitely a turn on.

"I'm keeping my options open." You wanted to sound taunting, but your hand slowly dragging down his chest let him know he was going to get whatever he was after.

His mouth moved over your neck as his fingers worked their way under your light t-shirt. His thumbs caressing the soft flesh just above the elastic of your waistband sent a gush of excitement to your panties.

"I want you so badly."

Pulling your pants to the floor he lifted you onto the small counter.

His finger slid into you easily.

"Does Taehyung get you this wet?"

"He's never tried. Should I let him?"

"I'm not afraid of a little competition Y/N."

His track pants came down with a quick tug and his hard cock sprang out. Stepping back towards you for a heated kiss his erection pressed against your sopping center. His length was more than you'd expected and you couldn't stand the anticipation any longer.

"Do you know how hard it's been to work with you for weeks and not get to touch you?"

Grasping his cock he held it straight to line himself up with your entrance.

"Uh huh," he nodded. "I've had to keep requesting baggy clothes to hide my chronic hard on."

He pushed himself into you letting out a long slow moan as his head fell back. Leaning into the mirror you pulled him in closer wrapping your legs around his hips.

Knees bent, he adjusted his height to pump himself into you. It wasn't sweet or slow, it was a mile high, hard quickie that had been a long time in the making.

Helping you down he wrapped you in his arms and kissed you while smiling. "I promise when we have more room i'm going to lay you out across a bed and make you cum so hard that mines the only name you're going to remember"

"That's pretty cocky considering you just spent the last 5 minutes only satisfying yourself." You straightened your clothes, "But I guess I could give you another shot."

You left him where he stood, red faced and pants down in the washroom.

Taehyung stirred as you layed out your blankets.

"Bedtime?"

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He hummed in pout, "Come back and cuddle with me."

He held up his blanket in invitation and you slid in beside him.

Settling in he was now wide awake and staring endearingly. "I really like you." He smiled brightly at his own admission.

You pushed his shaggy hair off his forehead. "I really like you too Tae."

Somewhere at 35,000 feet in dead of the night you found yourself tangled in lips and limbs with the soft boy.

Where Jungkook had left you wanting more Tae picked up the slack with long lingering kisses and slow moving hands.

His nimble fingers played at your entrance before he plunged one inside, "You're so wet"

Pulling it back out he raised it to his mouth and unknowingly sucked off the mixture of your excitement and Jungkook's cum.

"Taehyung, I want you."

"Yeah?" he ran his finger over your lip before he kissed you again, "flip over for me."

To anyone walking by it would look like you were spooning, slow movements and subdued noises would be the only tell. One hand expertly stroked your clit as the other held steady trapping the moans inside your mouth.

Jungkook sat the next row over listening intently to Taehyung's heavy breaths and the uncontainable whimpers of climax he'd drawn out of you. Mad at himself for his purely selfish attempt with you, he stuck his airpods in and drifted off.

With the group shots finished you'd called a break for everyone but Jungkook.

"You're up first for individuals handsome."

He smiled as the others turned to leave. "Where are we shooting?"

Slinging the camera bag over your shoulder you started to walk away. "Your room."

Once the door was pulled closed he swept you into his arms. "Is this my second chance?"

"We've got a job to do Jungkook, maybe if I get a good shot and we have some time I'll consider it."

He threw his hands up in defeat, "Let's get this picture out of the way then."

"Good, go get in your pool."

Taking your dress off you hoped the added incentive of your bikini would motivate him. Playful and sexy it was the quickest shoot you'd ever done.

"I think I got what I need." You pulled yourself out of the pool and set the camera on the concrete.

"I don't think you did. Not from me anyways."

Legs dangling in the water you kicked some towards him.

"Whose fault is that?"

He pulled his wet shirt over his head and tossed it on the deck.

"Mine, and I'm sorry. I just wanted you so badly."

His hands found their way to your hips and he tugged on your bottoms.

"A little help here?"

You couldn't help but laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck you lifted yourself up so he could slide them off you.

"Let me make it up to you?"

He kissed you, softer this time, more intently.

"How much time do I have?"

"About 20 minutes…"

He raised his brow accepting the challenge. "Then you should lay back."

Sinking to his shoulders in the water his face took residence between your thighs. "So beautiful," he said before sliding his tongue inside you.

It felt like heaven, you couldn't help but tug at his hair as his mouth strategically worked to get you off.

"Are you done yet?" The unfazed voice came from the doorway.

Jungkook's hands held your thighs firmly open when he felt you trying to instinctively clamp them shut.

His eyes flicked up at Taehyung.

"Almost, do you want to stick around and see what it looks like when she cums?"

What was even happening right now? reaching for your dress you wiggled from Jungkook's hands and covered yourself.

Jungkook's tongue now finding itself restless and aggravated poked angrily into his cheek.

He scoffed, "Thanks, I've already seen it. It doesn't look like you're going to get her there anyway."

Taehyung turned, ignoring him completely unfazed. "I wanted to see if I could take you to dinner after you're done working."

Jungkook was visibly angry, "Maybe you should stop monopolizing her and let her spend some time with me without interrupting"

"You two are acting like children, let me know when you're done." Getting up and grabbing your things you left.

Laying out in the sun as they swam nearby, they had unknowingly made a decision for you.

The waitress walked towards you with three frosty glasses on her tray. One was Red, one was Yellow and one was Pink.

“The gentlemen argued about which you’d like more, Strawberry or Lemonade.” She smiled, “they ended up compromising and ordering you a half and half.”

The condensation pooled onto the table as she set them down. Looking in their direction she raised her eyebrow at you knowingly, “Why choose one when you can have both, am I right?”

You'd always thought it had to be one or the other.

Taehyung was Strawberry 🍓

Classic, comforting, consistent. The sweetness of red stained lips and warm hugs that felt like home. Fresh air that made you sleepy while laundry hung on the line. Your Grandmother’s kitchen filled with memories and knowing you were safe.

Jungkook was Lemonade 🍋

Even if you knew what to expect, it always stunned you. A surprise tang that made everything feel like you were a kid on a summer day again. Bright yellow sunshine that permeated your eyelids making your body feel electric, alive and invincible.

But she was right why not have both?

The sunshine felt good on your skin. The decision had lightened your mind and as the waves broke on the shore you were lulled into an unguarded slumber.

If the whispers and stifled giggles hadn't given them away their shadows blocking out the sunshine through your eyelids would have.

"I don't know what you two think you're going to do, but you probably shouldn't."

Raising your hand to shield your face you carefully cracked your eyelids open.

Jungkook stood by your feet, water droplets glistening over his body.

"We wanted to apologise for yesterday." Placing his hand on the back of his neck his usual confidence wavered.

Taehyung laid down and pulled you into a wet bear hug. "We've decided to be mature about this, whoever you decide to pick we'll have no hard feelings."

"What if I don't want to pick, what if I want both of you?"

By the looks on their faces they clearly weren't expecting that as your answer.

"I don't need you to make a decision right away. I'm going to my room so you two can think about it."

Grabbing your drink you smiled and walked away.

Leaving the door unlocked you knew it wouldn't take long for their erections to override their brains. There was a light rapping on the door before the handle turned.

"We came to an agreement and we think that we would probably be okay sharing you."

Taehyung spoke while Jungkook stood blushing.

"But we want to know, how will it work?"

Jungkook cut in, "I think we need rules so we both get equal attention."

Walking closer to Jungkook you knew he'd been feeling neglected.

"Listen, sometimes one of us will need something and sometimes ALL of us will need something…"

You kissed his lips. "Right now I need something from both of you."

You pulled Tae in closer.

"You interrupted the other day and Jungkook never got me off. So the ground rules will come after I do."

Both their jaws were slack and they stood staring not knowing where to even begin.

"Are we good with this arrangement?" To help seal the deal you had a hand on each of them rubbing their growing bulges as they nodded.

"Can I make you cum first? I feel so bad about the other day."

Taehyung snickered.

"I don't know why that's so funny Tae, it's your fault for interrupting. It certainly wasn't from his lack of skill."

You moved your hand away from him and lifted Jungkook's shirt off.

"So, since I didn't get to cum because of you, you don't get to cum until Jungkook has taken care of me."

Used to be in charge, he didn't know what to do or where to be.

"Take your clothes off and sit in that chair, you're going to have to watch."

Jungkook undid the top of your bikini while you let the bottoms fall to your feet. Pulling down his shorts you walked him to the bed. "I need you to finish what you started."

Once again he spread your legs, however, this time it was a performance with an audience and he had a point to prove.

Making sure his Hyung could see everything he began to lay big soft tongue kisses over your excited entrance.

"Fuck Jungkook, I haven't been able to stop thinking about your mouth."

He was skilled. Between his tongue, his lips and his fingers your thighs shook uncontrollably. You looked towards Taehyung, he was watching intently with dark hungry eyes while stroking himself. His lips were parted and heavy breaths escaped everytime his hand moved over his tip.

"I think Taehyung wants a turn Kookie."

Jungkook didn't miss a beat. "He can lick my cum out of you when I'm finished."

"Jungkook, if you can't share you're going to have to leave."

He huffed, so used to getting his way. "You've only got one cunt."

"I do, and if you both want to stay you're both going to lick it."

Jungkook pulled away and flopped on the bed. "Fine, let me know when it's my turn again."

Dipping your finger inside yourself then running it around your lips you teased him, "Tae, do you want some?"

Taehyung grinned, his huge cock stood stiff and straight as he walked over to lay between your legs.

Dragging his finger through your wetness he slowly sank it inside you. Like he was starved he attached his mouth to you, his tongue dancing over your clit, slowly, softly, deliberately. Taehyung did nothing without purpose and his purpose was very clear.

"Holy shit."

Your hands reached to grip the sheets but Jungkook's thigh was closer.

He was staring, watching your face wrecked with pleasure.

"Please Kookie, I want you both so badly."

Shifting down the bed he filled the remaining space between your legs.

Taehyung coaxed him, "Not everything has to be a competition between us."

His fingers delicately opened you wide, "think of it more like choreo, working together."

Wrapping his lips around your aroused bud he sucked softly.

"Let's make this about her."

Their tongues worked in tandem just adjacent to your pleasure point. Their timidness could easily be mistaken for teasing if you didn't know how nervous they both were to be together in such intamacy.

"Please I need this," you couldn't help but beg desperately.

Without looking at each other their tongues explored further meeting tentatively in the middle to combine their efforts. Inhibitions forgotten, the grander pursuit of ecstasy took over reason and apprehension.

Their mixed saliva dripped down to where Taehyung's finger was circling around you seeking permission to enter.

"Your ass is so tight, I'm calling dibs."

Sliding back up beside you he looked like a man possessed. Dark eyes stared into your soul as his fingertips rolled your nipples.

He ran his nose up your neck and practically hissed, "Can I fuck it?"

"uh huh." was all you could muster.

Standing up he grabbed something from his shorts on the floor and moved back towards the chair. "Why don't you come sit on my lap?"

You tugged Jungkook's hair trying to get his attention, "Change in position baby."

He sloppily kissed up your stomach, over your breasts and his lips lingered along your jawline. His hard cock was pressed against your leg as he wiggled his hips in search of relief.

His warm breath tickled your neck as he sighed, "I'm not going to stop until I make up for the quickie."

His fingers slid inside you while his mouth latched onto your peaked nipple. Suckling as he pumped between your legs he whispered. "I'm want to make you cum so hard."

The lurid sound of your wetness filled the air as your body squirmed in stimulation. "I'm gonna cum, don't stop, please …"

His hand moved faster, your orgasm exploding, breaching its bodily confines as you cried out his name in satisfaction.

Taking a minute to let you come down he got up, pulling you with him.

Taehyung sat waiting with a smile, condom already stretched over his impressive cock. About to straddle him Jungkook turned you around.

"You're gonna face me okay."

"Okay"

He steadied you as you backed toward Tae. Placing your feet to squat on either side of his hips you lowered yourself towards his waiting shaft.

"Have you done this before?" Taehyung's honey voice dripped into your ear.

You nodded blushing.

"Of course you have my dirty girl."

He pushed up and you pushed down, his tip sliding through the tight ring.

Your mouth open, and head back it was a painful adjustment. Jungkook stood staring at your breasts, your arched back making them sit pert on your chest.

Walking closer, his cock stood pink, weepy and desperate for release while he stroked it.

Adjusting your grip on the arm rest Taehyung began thrusting into the new more relaxed angel, deep moans rolling out of him like thunder.

"Now you Jungkook." You pleaded, "I want you both at the same time."

Jungkook's face was flush, overwhelmed with the scenario unfolding before him.

"Just focus on me Jungkook, on how much my pussy is aching for you to fill it."

His breath shook as he balanced his knees on the small remaining chair space. His tip, lingering at your entrance teased the wet folds driving your anticipation crazy.

Waiting for his turn to jump in, he was trying to match Taehyung's rhythm like a sordid game of double dutch.

In and out and in and out and oh god when he was finally in.

Their dropped inhibitions along with the feeling of them thrusting into you in unison was almost too much to bear. Rubbing against your thin wall that lay between them, they must be able to feel it? Head to head their cocks pressing together in your sexual vice.

The thought of their intimacy combined with their collective moans under you and over you made your skin shiver in ecstasy.

"Is this what you wanted? Both of us stuffed inside you?"

Taehyung was eager with his words. Expletives and praise fell off his tongue in equal measure.

"Once Jungkook makes that pretty pussy cum again I want you to finish both of us in your mouth."

Jungkook was biting his lip, still fucking you with a determined concentration. As sweat built over his warm skin Taehyung lay back and wrapped his arms around your thighs. Pulling your knees back he spread you wider for his friend.

"Lean in and fuck her deeper."

Ever the Maknae, Jungkook listened to his Hyung and ground himself into you slowly until he bottomed out inside your wet wonderland. Your body shook with pleasure as your cunt pulsated, your second orgasam so close.

Letting go of your leg Taehyung put his thumb to Jungkook's mouth.

"Open," he commanded.

Jungkook licked and sucked the digit until it was pulled hastily from his greedy mouth. Letting his hand wander to the space between you Taehyung rubbed the wet appendage roughly over your clit.

It only took seconds, the sound of your own pleasured cries ringing through your head as the white lightning orgasm tore through and took over your body.

Both men lay still enveloping you, Jungkook's face scrunching in concentration as he tried to discourage his own imminent release.

Tae's soft smiling lips kissed the back of your glistening neck as Jungkook carded his hand gently through your hair brushing it back off your face. Hovering over your mouth his lips skimmed over yours, "Do you think you can finish us baby?"

You didn't have much energy but you nodded knowing that whatever was left you'd use it all to please them however they wanted.

Jungkook stood and taking your hand helped lift you to the floor. Quickly throwing his condom aside Taehyung joined, wrapping his arms around you. Both men were attentive and grateful yet still acutely unsatisfied. Their lips and hands travelled over you appreciatively while their cocks stood begging for attention.

Sinking to your knees their half moans half exhales spurred your enthusiasm to please them.

Taking Jungkook in your mouth you could taste yourself all over him. Your sticky excitement was built up around his balls and you licked it off as he watched intently.

Your hand slid up and down Tae's shaft easily with the lube left behind from the condom. They were equally thick and perfect, you couldn't help but smile up at them pleased with your choice to take them both.

"Fuck you're beautiful with a cock in your mouth." Tae purred while pumping himself into your grip.

"Want to see what yours looks like?"

He didn't have to answer, you gripped onto Jungkook and let your mouth take Tae.

Alternating between them, rubbing and sucking back and forth they took turns having their way with your face. The breathing got heavier and they were getting greedy with your mouth. Gripping them both, your hands grasped tightly and pumped them until they were whining.

"Where do you want it?" Jungkook asked urgently. Wrapping his own hand around his length he spurt his hot load into your open waiting mouth and proceeded to stand looking dazed as you turned towards Taehyung.

"Are you gonna swallow that?"

You looked up with big eyes, mouth open and shook your head no while holding Jungkook's load on your tongue.

A Few furious strokes later Taehyung came undone, filling the rest of your mouth with his salty excitement.

Gripping your chin, his thumb caressed your jaw. "What are you waiting for?"

Getting off your knees you stood to meet their gaze, swallowed and smiled. "Sometimes things taste better combined."

The last day was quiet, you'd not spoken to either man since yesterday's trist. Bags were packed, passports were lost and located and staff scurried around making sure everything was in order. Your mind was left to wander. You'd hoped the lack of communication was from exhaustion and not embarrassment, you didn't regret a thing.

Separate cars rolled into the airport and you stood by yourself not wanting to make them uncomfortable in case they indeed had doubts over what had happened.

Deep into your twitter feed you felt a warm arm wrap around your waist. Jungkook smiled shyly, "I was hoping you'd sit with me this time. You know keep things equal."

Walking over Taehyung raised his eyebrows at the both of you, "I have a better idea." He held out three new boarding passes, "I got us our own cabin."

THANK YOU FOR READING 💜

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