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nastybuckybarnes · 2 years ago

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Riding Lessons - Three

Pairing: Dbf!Bucky X Reader X Dbf!Steve

Summary: You and Wanda make plans to head to your family’s cabin for the weekend. The only problem? That’s the exact same weekend that your dad and his friends were planning to go out there. It’s fine, though, there’s plenty of room for all of you, right? What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Language, Light Angst, Fluff, Smut (oral (f/m receiving), face riding, fingering, hair-pulling, spanking, face fucking, degradation, rough stuff, breeding kink, slight voyeurism, name calling, little bit of cockwarming), Aftercare, Age Gap (Reader is 21, Bucky is mid-forties),

Word Count: 5.5K

A/n: My first post since my little disappearance lol. I hope you guys like this and I’m hoping to actually start posting on a bit of a schedule, but I’ve always been a hot mess so we’ll see lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I love you all very much!

Part one Part Two

~*~

“Ah! There you are, perfect timing. I was just about to call you!” Your dad says with a smile as you and Wanda walk into the house.

“Yeah, we just finished yoga,” you explain, stopping at the front door as your dad and Bucky walk toward you and your friend.

You’re both drenched in sweat, hair matted and clothes sticking to your body after an intense hot yoga class.

“You gonna be okay here by yourself this weekend? Bucky, Steve and I are heading up to the cabin.”

You frown and shake your head, trying to avoid looking at Bucky because you know you won’t be able to play it cool if you meet his eyes.

“Wanda and I were supposed to go to the cabin this weekend, remember? I told you on Monday.”

Bucky watches as you and your father discuss this weekend, his eyes devouring your figure.

You look good enough to eat in your sweaty yoga clothes, and he needs to discretely adjust his boner as he watches a drop of sweat bury itself in your cleavage. God, he wishes he could lick it up and then fuck you till you’re crying.

He’d give you a better workout than any yoga instructor ever could.

“You ladies can still come this weekend. Us old farts are gonna be watching the game and fishing for most of the weekend, so you ladies will be free to sunbathe and paint your nails and talk about boys all you want.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, accentuating your bust and making it so much harder for Bucky to keep his cool.

“Is that really what you think we do all day?” You ask, sass dripping from your voice.

A smile tugs at the corner of Bucky’s mouth when your eyes finally meet his, and he can see you swallow hard and squeeze your soft thighs together.

“I’m okay to go, still,” Wanda pipes in, smiling encouragingly at you when you raise your eyebrows.

“You don’t have to, Wanda. Don’t feel pressured just because they're standing right there,” You whisper, though secretly all you want is to go because Bucky and Steve are gonna be there.

The memory of the last time you saw both of them together has been playing in your head since the barbecue.

Steve’s eager tongue between your legs, lapping up the mess that Bucky made and not stopping until his face was just as messy.

His beard glistened in the sun when the three of you finally made it back outside, and he couldn't wipe the grin from his face.

All the while, Bucky kept shooting you knowing glances, letting you know that that wouldn’t be the end of things.

She shakes her head and smiles again, “it’ll still be fun. Besides, now we won’t have to worry about anyone breaking in and killing us like in that movie we watched.”

You groan and shake your head, but a grin finds your lips anyway.

Perfect.

A weekend with your best friend and the two men who practically own you. What more could a girl ask for?

~*~

“Okay, ladies! You two are gonna be sharing the room down the hall. If you get up at all during the night and see someone on the couch, don’t panic. It’s just this big lug,” your dad says with a grin, patting Steve’s shoulder.

The blond man grins at you, mischief in his eyes, then looks over at where Bucky stands, his eyes focused on yours.

You swallow hard and nod, grabbing Wanda’s hand and tugging her toward what’s going to be your bedroom for the weekend.

“Oh. My. God!” She exclaims as soon as the door’s closed, a wicked grin on her face.

You groan loudly and collapse on the bed.

“I told you!” You grumble, shaking your head in disbelief.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you’re regretting coming to the cabin with them.

“They were pretty much fucking you with their eyes the whole time! And your and your dad really has no idea?” She asks in a whisper, sitting next to you on the bed and poking your shoulder until you look at her.

“He has no clue, dude. Fuck, this was a mistake. I’m not gonna be able to survive the weekend. I’m not. I’m gonna die. I’m going to explode or dad's gonna find out or-”

“Stop overreacting! If you guys haven’t been caught after the whole barbecue thing, I doubt you’re gonna get caught at all. Have fun. You’re only young once, and those guys are hot as fuck. If you don’t fuck them this weekend then I’m going to.”

You roll your eyes but push yourself into a seated position anyway.

“Fuck, I guess you’re right. It’ll be fine. They’re not gonna be obvious about it, right?”

Wanda nods and roots through her suitcase to find her bathing suit

“Right. Now, let's go get some sun!”

~*~

Wrong.

You were wrong.

You were so fucking wrong.

You and Wanda are lying down on the lounge chairs on the patio of the cabin overlooking the lake, iced teas beside you and soft music playing, when they walk by.

Each of them clad only in their swim trunks, thick muscular bodies on display for your hungry eyes.

You can’t help but devour them, and they’re not discreet in doing the same to you.

Bucky goes so far as to stand directly in front of your lounge chair, a smile on his lips as he takes in the sight of your beautiful body draped in only a red bikini.

“You ladies put sunblock on?” Steve asks, his eyes focusing on your cleavage for a moment before returning to your face.

You shake your head, “that kind of defeats the whole purpose of getting some sun, Steve.”

Bucky leans down slightly and trails his fingers over your inner calf, stopping above your knee and then tapping your inner thigh gently.

“You want some help putting it on, crybaby? Hmm?”

You inhale sharply, thighs squeezing together but he grabs the flesh quickly, giving you a stern look.

Your eyes flicker over his shoulder to Steve, whose gaze is focused on you as Bucky brings his hand up to grab your face. He leans closer, his lips grazing your cheek for just a moment before his teeth nip at your ear.

“You gonna ride my face when your dad falls asleep tonight, princess?”

You nod immediately, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly pulls away.

“You guys comin’ or what?” Your dad’s voice calls from around the side of the cabin.

Bucky steps back and rises to his full height, adjusting his boner then plastering a stunning smile on his handsome face.

“Yeah! Just got caught up.”

They both take their leave, each glancing over their shoulder at you before disappearing around the house.

It’s quiet for a long moment before Wanda whistles lowly.

“I don’t know how you’re not melted into a puddle right now. If either of those men did that to me I’d probably die on the spot. Like, I don’t understand how you do it. You’re one lucky bitch, I’ll tell you that much.”

You take a deep breath and sink an inch lower in the lounge chair, heart racing and eyes squeezed shut.

“Wanda, I don’t think I’m gonna survive this,” you confess, bringing your hands up to cover your face.

She giggles and shakes her head at you, relaxing in the lounge chair.

“Why not have fun with it? I mean, they clearly are. Might as well give it right back to them,” she notes.

You slowly pull your hands away from your face and look over at her, intrigue written across your face.

“I’m just saying that two -or, three I guess- can play this game. They wanna tease you? Tease ‘em right back. I’m sure whatever they have in store for you after will be worth it anyway, so might as well have fun.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip for a moment, pondering her words.

“But how? I don’t wanna be obvious and have my dad find out.”

She shrugs, “just do little things. We’ve got popsicles in the freezer, right? Go offer them one.” She punctuates her sentence with a wink and you feel a smile creep across your face.

You rise off of the lounge chair and nearly trip over yourself in your haste to get inside and grab a popsicle.

You pull it out of the wrapping and lather it with saliva, then head to the bathroom to adjust your bikini top in the mirror.

Once you’re positive that you look good enough to eat, you make your way back outside, smiling at Wanda when she laughs as you pass by.

You follow the path that Steve and Bucky took around the side of the cabin where your dad keeps all the fishing gear, wrapping your lips around the popsicle and sucking the sweet taste into your mouth when you finally catch a glimpse of the two men.

“Hey, kiddo. Everything okay?” Your dad asks, not looking up from the supplies he’s gathering.

“Yeah, everything’s good. I just wanted to see if any of you wanted a popsicle.” You drag your tongue up the underside of the popsicle right as Bucky and Steve lift their gazes to you, and the look on their faces says it all.

Steve stays quiet, but Bucky takes a step towards you and cocks his head to the side.

“I’m okay for now, darling. I’ve already got a sweet treat planned after dinner. Don’t wanna have too much now.”

The way his eyes rake over your figure has you feeling the ghost of his touch between your legs, and your thighs clench. Something that does not go unnoticed by the two of them.

You bat your eyelashes innocently at the two of them, taking the popsicle deep in your throat for a moment and humming around it before pulling it back out.

A string of saliva connects your lips and the popsicle for a long moment before you lick your lips, and you grin when the two men adjust themselves in their swim trunks.

“Okay. Just wanted to come and offer. Do you want anything, Steve?” You turn pointedly toward the blond, your free hand stroking your breasts through your bikini top, playing with your hardened nipple for a moment before dropping down to rest at your side.

Steve swallows hard and gives you a look that has a shiver racing down your spine.

“I’m good, sweetheart, thank you. Might take you up on that later though.” His dark eyes tell you that he wants your lips wrapped around something other than the popsicle, and you giggle softly.

“Okay. If you fellas change your mind just let me know. I don’t mind bringing them out to you.” You lick up the popsicle one last time before turning on your heel and walking away, your ass bouncing with every step you take and you can feel them watching you.

“All right boys, let's get this boat out in the water!”

~*~

The rest of the afternoon is peaceful, with your dad and his friends fishing and you and Wanda enjoying the sun while the ache between your legs only worsens.

By the time dinner’s on the table, you’re beyond ready to deal with your aching clit on your own, but one look at the two delicious men at the table and you halt those thoughts in their tracks.

Your dad sits at one end of the table and Bucky sits at the other, with you and Wanda between them on one side and Steve seated across from the two of you.

With a pile of steaming food on your plate, you find yourself hungry for something else, unable to concentrate on the conversations going on around you as your mind wanders to all the dirty things these men could do to you. All the things they plan on doing to you.

Lifting your eyes slowly, you watch Steve as he talks to Wanda about some science thing she’s working on in school.

Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you slowly raise your foot and straighten your leg under the table, watching the way his lips quirk upward when your foot caresses his calf.

You slowly drag your foot upwards until you reach his thigh, then dare to move further watching him closely as you stroke the bulge in his pants.

His hips move forward the tiniest bit and he clears his throat, shifting his weight and shooting you a glance, daring you to continue.

You can’t help but grin, taking a sip of your drink and stroking him again.

Your eyes flutter over to the man on your right and you almost choke on your drink at the way he’s looking at you.

He’s obviously aware of what you’re doing, and you have to stop yourself from giggling.

You tease Steve beneath the table for the rest of the meal, stroking his hard cock through the fabric of his shorts and relishing in the way he looks at you. Promising a punishment that you’re beyond excited for.

~*~

“Okay folks, you guys ready?” Your dad shouts from the doc, Steve beside him helping set up the fireworks.

You and Wanda both cheer, excited about the fireworks.

They begin setting them off and the two of you watch in awe as your attention is captured.

“I’m gonna go down on the swing to watch, wanna come?” Wanda asks, stepping towards the stairs leading down to the porch swing.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna grab a sweater.”

She nods and heads down to the swing.

As you turn to the cabin to get a sweater, you freeze in your tracks.

Bucky’s leaning against the sliding glass door, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and his dark eyes trained on you.

“B-Bucky. I didn’t hear you come out.”

You mentally curse yourself for being reduced to a stuttering mess whenever he's around.

“You had fun with Steve, huh?”

You swallow hard and lick your lips, unsure of how to proceed.

He pushes off the door and steps toward you, forcing you to back up until your back hits the railing of the deck.

You’re trapped between the wood and his hard body and you don’t know what to do.

“You’ve been teasing us all day, crybaby. That’s not something a good girl does, is it?”

You tilt your head back to look at him as the fireworks explode overhead, his eyes illuminated for a brief moment before darkness masks his face once again.

“I was just returning the favour, James.”

Hearing you say his name has his cock standing at attention and fuck, he loves hearing it come from your pretty lips.

“Oh yeah? And what’s your plan now? Because, the way I see it, he and I have every right to do whatever we want to this sweet, tight body of yours. I could spin you around, bend you over, and fuck your cute little cunt till you’re crying. Right outside in front of your friend and your dad. Is that what you want, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he’s already got you spun around and bent slightly over the railing of the deck.

You inhale sharply, hands grabbing at the wood as another firework bursts overhead.

His fingers trail between your thighs beneath your dress, and he lets out a soft curse when he finds you bare and wet for him.

“You’re really playing with fire here, crybaby, you know that?” He whispers, his lips trailing over your neck as his fingers slowly slide through your folds.

You bite your lip to keep yourself quiet, eyes focused on where your dad and Steve are.

All the way down at the dock.

Surely too far away to make out exactly what’s going on.

Bucky’s fingers find your clit and you gasp, hips automatically pushing back into his hand, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re so easy, crybaby. I can play you like a fucking fiddle. Do you have any idea how easy it is for me to make you cum? For me to have you begging and crying?”

You hum softly, rocking your hips in time with his fingers.

“Maybe you should remind me,” you whisper, wanting nothing more than to cum after how wound up you’ve been all day.

He laughs softly, his fingers not slowing as he nuzzles his nose into your hair.

“Is that what you want, baby? You want me to make you cum? Wanna cream all over my fingers like the good little slut I know you are?”

You nod eagerly, your body wound tight and ready for the sweet release you know he can bring you.

He chuckles quietly and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, then grabs a handful of your hair and yanks your head back until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Good girls get to cum. Bad girls get punished. Meet me in the living room at one and you’ll get what you deserve, princess.”

With that, he releases you and takes a step away, then bounds down the stairs and onto the grass, giving Wanda a wink on his way.

You stay leaning against the railing, breathing hard and squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

These two are gonna be the death of you. But what a way to go.

~*~

You toss and turn all night, unable to get even a wink of sleep as you count down the minutes until 1am.

Eventually, the clock strikes one, but you find yourself paralyzed with fear and anticipation.

What will they do to you?

What if your dad finds out?

Oh god, this can’t end well.

Finally mustering up your courage, and using the cover of just needing a glass of water, you venture out of your room and slowly make your way through the cabin.

The lights in the living room are off, and you let out a sigh of relief.

They probably got the hint after waiting for fifteen minutes.

Disappointment and relief play tug-of-war with your heart as you get yourself a glass of water from the kitchen.

At least now you’ll probably be able to finally get some sleep. Just as soon as you deal with your aching clit.

“You know, Steve didn’t think you’d show. But I knew you’d make it.”

You tense up at the sound of his smooth voice, searching for the source of it in the darkness of the room.

“And, though I’m glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence, punctuality is important to me.” His voice slowly gets closer until you can make out the outline of his body in the darkness.

“I-I’m sorry,” you try softly, setting your glass down and bracing your hands on the counter behind your back.

“After all the teasing today? No, you’re not. But you will be.” His firm hands find your waist with ease, and then he’s spinning you around and bending you over across the kitchen island.

You huff out a surprised gasp when a second set of hands pushes your hair away from your face.

“How are we gonna punish our sweet girl, Buck?” Steve’s voice asks from in front of you.

You swallow hard as the oversized shirt you’re wearing gets pushed up your back, your panties yanked down your thighs next.

“Hmm...” Bucky acts as if he’s thinking as his hands caress the globes of your ass, but he already knows what he’s got planned for you.

“How about... one for every minute you were late?” He punctuates his question with a particularly rough smack to your ass, and you yelp softly only for Steve to cover your mouth with his large hand.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” the blond agrees.

Without giving you any warning, the brunet’s hand comes down hard on your ass again, and you jolt away from the pain as much as you’re able to from your position on the counter.

He spanks you again, then again, and twice more after that, and pretty soon tears are prickling at your eyes and the ache between your thighs has morphed into a throb.

You’re mumbling pleas and apologies into Steve’s hand, and both men can’t help but coo at how adorable you look.

With each strike of his hand against your ass, you crawl closer and closer to the edge, your climax just out of reach when he finally whispers ‘fifteen’.

“Good girl. There you go, you pretty little thing. Took it like a champ,” Bucky praises as he massages your aching flesh.

You whine softly, cheeks tear-stained and glistening.

Steve releases your mouth and leans down to kiss your forehead.

“You’re such a good girl for us, honey. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he whispers softly, his voice gentle and kind.

Your insides get warm and fuzzy at the praise from both of them and you can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth.

“Now, sweet girl. You gonna let me eat your pretty pussy? I remember you saying you’d ride my face. Well, what are you waiting for, honey?”

He helps you stand on your shaky legs, then leads you into the living room with Steve hot on your heels.

Each man has a hand somewhere on your body, and you don’t hate it. In fact, you could die happily in their arms.

After an orgasm, of course.

Bucky lies down on the couch on his back while Steve turns on a dim lamp in the corner of the room, giving you just enough light to see where each man is.

“C’mon, baby. Lemme taste that pretty pussy. I’ve missed her.”

You climb nervously onto the couch, nodding at the questioning look on his face, then position yourself with your knees on either side of his head and your pussy right above his mouth.

“None of that hovering shit, sweetheart. I’m a man, not a boy. I can handle you. I wanna feel you ride my face.”

He grabs your hips and yanks them down until your weight is firmly resting on his face, and then his talented tongue is working your clit.

“O-oh!” You exclaim, tumbling forward and grabbing onto the arm of the couch for stability.

“Oh God... Bucky... oh fuck...”

He works your body like he’s spent years studying it, finding every angle that makes you twitch.

Steve comes to stand at the edge of the couch, smoothing his hands through your hair and cupping your face, forcing you to look up at him through glossy eyes as his friend brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“You look so pretty riding his face, honey. So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, leaning in to capture your lips with his.

The kiss is intense and passionate, and you can’t help but whine softly against his mouth when his fingers dart beneath your shirt to tug on your nipples.

Bucky’s hands slide over your thighs, pulling you further onto his face while his tongue attacks your clit.

You moan into Steve’s mouth, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, nails digging into the bare skin.

“M’gonna cum,” you whisper against his mouth, leaning your chest into his hands as he fondles your breasts.

“Do it, honey. Cum all over his face. C’mon, sweet girl,” Steve coaxes, tugging and twisting your nipples and nipping at your bottom lip while you rock your hips against Bucky’s face.

The additional stimulation pushes you over the edge quickly, and you crumple forward against Steve’s chest, panting against his mouth as you convulse.

He supports your weight while Bucky licks you through your orgasm, relishing in the feeling of your walls spasming and fluttering while you whimper and moan against Steve.

“Good girl... fuck, you’re such a good girl for us,” Steve praises, hugging you to his chest for a moment then helping you off of Bucky’s face.

The brunet sits up and pulls you to sit on his lap, his beard glistening in the dim light of the room.

“Fuck, you taste like heaven,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing you deeply.

You taste yourself on his mouth and can’t help but sigh into it.

Something about the way he’s so comfortable being sexual with you, so open and confident without a hint of insecurity makes you so unbelievably attracted to him.

You rock your hips on his lap, wanting -no, needing- more.

“You’re a greedy girl, aren't you?” He muses against your lips, pulling back to look at you.

You nod, breathing heavily and wanting nothing more than to have his thick cock inside you.

“Please fuck me,” you beg softly, lust-filled eyes trained on him.

He groans softly and nods, pushing you to lie down on your back.

You huff out a breath and sit up while he rises, yanking your shirt off and watching as he and Steve drop their sweatpants.

Steve comes to kneel at your head while Bucky makes his way between your thighs again.

“Buck says I’m not allowed to fuck you, sweetheart,” Steve whispers. “Not yet, anyway. Punk wants to keep that sweet tight cunt to himself and, honestly, I don’t blame him. Still can’t help but be jealous. I’d love to feel your squeeze me, princess. Fuck, I dream of the day when I can finally cum inside you, pump you full.”

You squirm on the couch, desperate to be filled with cock and cum, and the two men share a soft chuckle.

“Getting our girl all worked up, Stevie. Look at how desperate she is.”

‘Our girl’. You can’t help but sigh at that.

You belong to them, to both of them. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve rubs the tip of his hot cock against your lips, smearing a bead of precum around and chuckling softly when your mouth drops open.

“You’re just desperate for cock at this point, aren’t you?” He questions softly, pushing into your mouth and rubbing against your tongue.

You can only nod slightly, not wanting to disturb him as he plays with your mouth.

Bucky’s hands rub gently along your thighs, smoothing over the skin and sending shivers racing up your spine.

“You like teasing her, huh?” He asks, a smile on his face as he watches his friend have fun with you.

“She makes it hard not to,” Steve admits, slowly pushing his cock down your throat.

You brace one hand above your head on his thigh, trying hard to keep your throat open and push your gag reflex down as he starts thrusting gently.

“Aw, look at how nice he’s being, Angel. Treating you like you’re fragile or something,” Bucky says with a chuckle, using one hand to guide his cock to your dripping hole while the other hand shoves your shirt up above your breasts, two fingers pinching your nipple.

“We all know that’s not true though, don’t we?” He punctuates his question with a harsh thrust that kisses your cervix and you can’t help but moan around Steve’s length, trying to suppress the cough that wants to follow.

The brunet feels proud at how well you take his cock, like your body was made specifically for him. And he plans on taking complete advantage of that.

His pace is even, each thrust rough enough to have a soft moan falling from your mouth and every time a noise comes from you, Steve moans from above you. The vibrations combined with how hot and wet your mouth is has the blond trying desperately to hold onto his composure.

You feel so full.

So completely stuffed from both ends and you’ve never been happier.

Bucky fits perfectly in your cunt, each drag of his girth along your walls has sparks shooting to your clit, a type of stimulation you didn’t think you’d get from penetration alone - yet here you are.

Your orgasm creeps up on you slowly, getting closer and closer with each thrust of Bucky’s hips and every tug of your hair in Steve’s hand.

Your senses are clouded. Nothing exists beyond Bucky in your cunt and Steve in your mouth. All you can taste, feel, hear, and smell is the three of you and you’d love to bask in it forever.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart. Nice n’ tight... wet... shit, honey, you feel like heaven, you know that? God, I could fuck this sweet little pussy all night. Might just have to.”

Bucky’s words have you gushing around him, a moan vibrating against Steve’s cock again and the blond can’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck, honey. Shit... I tried to be gentle but fuck, you feel too good. I’m sorry.” With that, he holds your head in both hands and begins fucking your throat like you’re nothing more than a fucktoy.

He uses you to get off. He ignores your gags and coughs and the tears running down your temples and he fucks you like he owns you.

And between your thighs, Bucky does the same thing.

He has your hips hoisted up slightly, the angle allowing him to get so much deeper and fuck you so much harder. His hands are firmly planted on your hips, gripping so tightly that you know you’re going to have bruises in the morning but you also don’t care.

His cock hits your sweet spot with every thrust, and you can’t stop the moans from falling between gags.

Everything is too much. The pleasure between your legs mixes so beautifully with all the pain and it pushes you over the edge, your climax slamming into you like a train.

“Fuck... can feel you cumming, sweet girl. Fuck, that’s right... cream on my cock, princess. It’s all yours, you know that,” Bucky murmurs, grunting at the vice-like grip your cunt has on his cock.

Steve doesn’t last much longer, yanking his cock out of his mouth and furiously stroking it until ropes of his cum are bursting out and painting your face.

You cough and gasp, moaning far louder than you really should as Bucky fucks you through your orgasm and Steve cums on your face.

“Fuck, you look so pretty covered in his cum, baby. So fuckin’ pretty. M’gonna fill you up now. Gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum then send you back to bed leaking. You want that? Wanna be full of my cum?”

You nod immediately, your hands finding his chest as his thrusts get sloppy.

Your nails dig into the meat of his chest and break the skin, but you’re both so far gone in your pleasure that you hardly register that.

All that matters is him pumping you full of cum exactly like he said he would.

“Please,” you whisper roughly, dragging your nails down his arms until your fingers are wrapped around his wrists - so thick that you can’t even touch the tip of your thumb to your middle finger.

“Fuck, baby. You ready for it? Yeah?” He asks, piercing blue eyes focused on your fucked-out face.

It takes two more thrusts for him to meet his high and then he’s making good on his promise.

He paints your walls white, fills you with warmth exactly like he said he would, and you feel so whole and content at that moment.

With Steve stroking your hair and Bucky smoothing his hands over your thighs, you feel happy.

A content sigh falls from your lips and you settle deeper into the couch, exhaustion creeping up on you.

“Did we fuck you to sleep, pretty girl?” Steve asks softly, his fingers wiping the mess off of your face gently.

You only hum in response, the sound scratchy and hoarse.

He chuckles and presses a quick kiss to your forehead before straightening up and tugging his boxers on.

“How do you feel, honey?” Bucky asks gently, his eyes soft and full of something that has your heart jumping in your chest.

You nod your response then clear your throat when he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Sore,” you manage to whisper, your lids feeling heavy.

The two men share a soft chuckle and Bucky pulls you onto his lap so you’re cradled in his arms, his softening cock still lodged inside of you.

“How about we go take a quick shower to get you cleaned up, hmm? Then we can put you to bed.”

You nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck and wind your arms around his strong body.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask softly, the question muffled slightly from where your lips are pressed against his skin.

He rubs his hands across your back and then a second set of hands is smoothing over your hair.

“We can’t stay for too long, Princess, but definitely until you fall asleep,” Bucky whispers, peppering kisses along any skin exposed to him.

Steve nods his agreement and pushes your hair aside to allow him to press a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Now c’mon, crybaby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#dbf!bucky #dbf!bucky x reader #dbf!Steve x reader #diff!bucky x reader #diff!Steve x reader #dbf!bucky x reader x dbf!steve #bucky x reader x steve #stuck x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader lemon #bucky x reader age gap

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bump1nthen1ght · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Cute (GN!Reader/Mothman)

Pairing: GenderNeutral!Reader/Male!Mothman

Genre: Cryptids

Warnings: Car accidents, descriptions of bruisings and pain

Word Count: 2564 words

Summary: After an incident, You find yourself in the care of a rather strange savior.

Request: Hey, long time fan, but I could never think of anything to request! I was wondering if cryptids were considered monsters here? Would you be willing to write a meet-cute with Mothman? Maybe something along the lines of them saving the reader from a disaster and sparks fly, and boy, if that's not a pun: like a moth to a flame. Mothman can be man or gender neutral, and I'd like the reader to be gender neutral! But everything is to your discretion! Have fun~! And thank you~!

He doesn’t usually do this.

As he cradles your neck, feeling the microfibers of human hair at the base of your skull and your thrumming heartbeat, it feels as if you could shatter apart in his talons. Your pupils flutter behind your eyelids, the pain of the collison definitely affecting you, even in your near-unconscious state. He sets you down on the scraps of thrown away jackets and ratty down-comforters, paying extra attention to your head and side, where splotches of purple and yellow already bloom up your ribcage. You easily fall into the warmth of the pile, snuggling into the fabric.

He sighs, anxiety decreasing as your body relaxes. Having already checked you, he thinks you should last a night before needing to go to a human hospital, just to double-check. He perches by you, tuning the ancient radio to a subtle night-time station, and waits.

Your chest flutters rhythmically, peacefully. Your features seem to shine in the firelight, catching the shadows and giving the appearance of a Baroque painting. So serene for someone just hit by a car.

He sighs.

He just hopes you won’t freak out.

-------

You wake up in a jerk, immediately filled with regret as your right side screams in pain. You clench your teeth, hand immediately checking your ribs as the memories of last night come flooding back.

You had been walking back home after a night out with your friends. You weren’t drunk, barely even tipsy, but had decided to walk the short path to your tiny house anyway. It was quick, just a 5 minute jaunt by the side of the highway and away from the bar. Just enough time for some asshole to swerve off the side of the road, send you flying, and take off without a care for the deer they assumed they just killed.

It takes a little while longer for you to process that you are definitely not in a hospital right now; Not even in your own house, or any house for that matter. A dying fire crackles nearby, the rising sun beams peaking through makeshift curtains attached to a structure of branches. You sit in a small pallet of fabric, right next to a collection of newspapers and old cctvs.

It’s ramshackle, sure, but well-loved. It doesn’t look like a permanent residence, but is lived-in nonetheless.

“Are you feeling alright?”

A calm tenor breaks the silence, causing you to shoot your eyes away from your surroundings and to focus on the person across from you.

Well, person probably isn’t the right word.

His eyes, even in the morning light, flash with red. They’re huge, set deeply into his face with very indistinguishable features. His neck is nestled into a large amount of fluff, reminiscent of winter scarf, that extends back into his large wings, which are tucked behind him. The antennas that flicker on top of his head are distinctly insect-like, but his long, muscular body and hands are more mammalian. Not human, but more similar to an animal. His hands are long and near-spindly, each finger ended with a long claw.

All these features should come together into an uncanny-valley, terror-inducing nightmare. But there’s something about his voice, the way he sits, so cautious yet concerned, that says the contrary.

“U-Uh...I think so.” You shift your body, a lightning bolt of pain shoots through your ribs and you wince. “I’ve felt better, though.” You tentatively lean down and touch your side, trying to check for a fracture without hurting yourself even more.

The creature stands up, wings still closed and kept to his back, and walks over to you.

“Would you mind if I checked your injuries? I have some experience with collisions such as yours.”

After a second, you nod. He steps closer to you, still moving at a micro-speed, and his hands slowly begin to wander up your side. You suck in a breath, but are more afraid of the potential pain than him. His slow, southern drawl reminds you of old movies and your grandpa, radiating comfort with almost every word. Plus, whatever he was, he had shown you more compassion than the human asshole who had hit you last night, so you felt a little more relaxed having him this close.

Nevertheless, he treats you gingerly, fingers just grazing your bruised side. You wince as his index finger finds a particularly dark bruise, and the creature quickly pulls back.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it just-fuck that hurt.”

The creature nods but doesn’t move to touch you again.

“Does it hurt when you breathe deeply?”

You shake your head. You had been taking calming breaths to assuage the anxiety of waking up in what might be a monster’s den.

The monster hums, a light chittering sound, like several wind chimes all at once. He reaches over to a small, nearly-rotted, medicine bag in the corner and pulls out an ancient-looking jar of pain cream. He gingerly slides it towards you. “You may try this, it might relieve the pain for a while. Although you should probably see a human doctor to see if you’ve sustained any serious damage to your ribcage.”

You uncork the cream and tentatively dab a bit on your fingers, looking up with a shaky smile to your savior.

“Uh, t-thank you. For everything-”

Growl

Your hand jerks to your stomach, face going flush as you accidentally brush against your swollen side. The creature perks up.

“I believe I have some human food. Would you like some?”

Sucking in a quick breath, trying to hide the tiny pain and your embarrassment, you nod.

The creature stands up, fumbling with the remains of a kitchen cabinet. From his hunched posture, you’d guess this tiny shelter isn’t big enough for his full height. With his long fingers, he reaches and flicks on the radio. The sounds of a local station’s jingle filters through the air as he grabs a can of beans from a shelf.

You slowly begin to rub in the medication to your side, occasionally looking up at your savior as he flutters around his den. Despite his extended limbs and large body, every movement is very similar to that of a human’s; He moves around the make-shift kitchen like a doting partner, a thought which brings a small blush to your face.

The illusion is shattered when he tears the top of the can clean off, cutting through the metal like a hot knife through butter. As he turns to rekindle the fire and start your breakfast, you quickly look back to your wound, trying to hide your curiosity.

The creature lazily stirs your breakfast as a song begins playing on the radio. The strumming bass is perfect for the morning haze, the low drawl of the singer rhythmic and relaxing. You notice the creature bobbing his head, humming along to the tune. His voice sounds slightly distorted, squeaking like the crackle of tv static. You find you quite like it.

The silence returns, filled only by the radio and the crackling fire. The creature's disposition is amicable, but you're still not sure how to initiate small talk.

“Um, thank you, again. For everything. You really saved my ass.”

The creature gestures with their hand as if to say “No problem.”

“I saw that man hit you with that car and take off. As you were hidden from the road, I thought it best I intervene.” The creature pulls off the now-cooked beans and grabs a spoon, handing the can to you. You take it eagerly, another rumble growling from your stomach. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, foregoing all table manners to scarf down the breakfast.

“If I am being honest, I don’t typically interact with humans in such a….direct manner.”

“Ah, I guess that,” You eyes do another survey of his gangly, inhuman appearance, “makes sense.”

The creature nods, grabbing an apple before sitting across the fire from you. You can tell he is tense, probably waiting with baited breath for you to come to your senses and scream. There is a small part of you that wants too, desperately, but you silence it with a large mouthful of beans. The apple is tossed back and forth between the creatures hands, his eyes locked on the fire. The curiosity of how he eats things sneaks its way into your thought process. “Do you have a name?”

The creature perks, pausing it’s movements and looking at you with its large, red eyes.

“.....I’ve heard humans call me Mothman. I think it is quite accurate.”

You nod, swallowing down another bite of beans. “Do you...like that name?”

The creature doesn’t respond, eyes still piercing into your heart. His face has a small micro-expression, but you’re not sure you can read it. “Because my brother always said first impressions are the perfect time to reinvent yourself, so I could call you something else if you wanted?”

The creature's eyes flicker, in a movement you think is slight shock, before his eyes roll back to the fire. The small light of the fire flatters the dark black of his fur (You think it’s fur?) and only accentuate his large eyes, flashing and reflecting like rubies. In his relaxed position, he sort of looks….handsome.

“You may call me Mothman. Thank you for asking.”

You nod, letting the strumming banjo of a new song on the radio fill the void. The bouncy beat has you unconsciously bobbing your head as you scoop a spoonful.

“I love this song.” You mutter, lamenting how you're almost out of food to stuff your mouth with.

Mothman hums in agreement. “Me as well, this station is my favorite.”

Given your empty bean can, you take the leap into a conversation.

“Do you have a favorite kind of music genre?”

Mothman fiddles with the stem of his apple, brow (if it can even be called that) furrowing.

“I guess I never thought of what my favorite would be. I mostly listen to whatever the radio plays, enjoyable or not. Though,” Mothman points his thumb to the radio, “I love the sound this instrument makes, though I am unsure what it is called. It’s almost like….”

Mothman’s voice begins to make a squeaking trill, one extremely similar to that of plucked strings, although much sharper and shorter.

“Oh, you mean the banjo? Uh, the one that goes like-” You try your best to imitate the chords of the banjo, unconsciously moving your fingers to imitate playing. It’s not nearly as musical as Mothmans’, but his eyes widen and he nods excitedly.

“Yes! Yes, that sound is very pleasant. I’d say any music with that in it is my favorite.”

“Ah, country, that’s a really popular one around here. Have you ever heard ‘Goodbye Earl’ by The Chicks?”

Mothman shakes his head. Your face drops in surprise.

“Oh, it’s so good, it’s about-” As you lean over to give a long spiel about the song, another bolt of pain shoots up your side, forcing you to bite your cheek so as to not cry out. You keel over your legs, clutching your rib cage.

Right, car accident.

In a second, Mothman is next to you, tentatively laying a hand on your shoulder. His fingertips just barely brush your skin, yet you can still feel a slight fuzziness, the same that covers his whole body.

“You might want to see a human doctor, soon.” You suck in through your teeth, slowly adjusting yourself back upwards. “Yeah, yeah, that’s probably a smart idea.

“I can take you as far as the end of the highway, if you’d like to call a friend or a cab.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady. Mothman’s other hand slowly moves to your other hip, only applying a modicum of pressure.

“May I help you stand up?” He almost-whispers, a hot breath of air blowing across the side of your neck as he speaks. A shiver runs down your spine as his large fingers play gently against your skin, covering a good portion of your pelvis. You’re thankful you can explain away any blush with the pain. You nod once more.

The two of you stand up gingerly, Mothman almost extending to his full height and brushing the blanket-ceiling with his antennae. You take a couple of small steps, the pain in your side taking the occasional moment to sting you.

Your eyes squint as you exit the encampment, sun already fully risen and in your face.

“If at any point you feel uncomfortable or in pain, let me know.”

You turn your head towards Mothman, but before you can ask any questions he sweeps you up in a bridal carry and extends his wings in one motion. From the corner of your eyes you can see dark red patterns that swirl on them, invisible until caught by the sunlight. Your hands instinctively lace around his neck, fingers tucking into the soft fluff of his neck. Mothman gives you a quick nod and what you think is an assuring smile

Without a word, you two take off.

----------

You two fly low to the ground, Mothman expertly maneuvering through the trees and underbrush as he glides along the highway. You’re sure if you were to drive by, he’d look like a flickering shadow in the woods, nothing more.

He sets you down by the edge of town, just out of sight of the semi-busy main street. You basically collapse to your feet, heart pounding with adrenaline and mind wracked with “Holy fuck, I just flew with the goddamn Mothman.”

“This is where I must depart. Do you think you can find suitable transportation to the hospital from here?”

You nod, still trying to wrestle your vocabulary from ‘What the fuck, Holy shit, Oh my god.’

Mothman gives you another smile and comforting nod, patting you on the shoulder.

“Very good. Good luck on your travels. Oh, and try not to be hit by any cars, alright?”

With a playful glare from you, Mothman begins to unfurl his wings and ready himself to fly back into the woods, buut before he can-

“Wait! Uh….” Mothman halts, wings still wide open. Your mouth and mind stagger, not even sure what you wanted to say. “I have some old country cassettes back at my place. If I found my mom’s old WalkMan I could….show them to you? Some time, maybe? Give you a chance to be your own radio DJ?”

Mothman’s face remains relatively neutral, but the way his antennae unfurl and his wings slightly perk upwards betrays his interest. It’s extremely adorable, like a little kid who hears the word ‘ice cream.’

“Yes, I think I would love that.”

“A-Awesome.” You breath out, not realizing how long you had held it in. “Same place, maybe next Saturday? Though hopefully I won’t be thrown in there by a car this time.”

Mothman lets out a series of squeaks, which you assume is his laugh. He gives you a thumbs up. “Cool, it’s a date.”

With the last word, you walk away, still hobbling with your probably-fractured rib, a large smile on your face.

As Mothman flies away, the cold wind of a West Virginia morning blowing across his body, he can’t deny the certain warmth that radiates from his chest.

I have a date.

#my writing #mothman #monster x reader #monster romance #gender neutral reader #reader insert #mothman x reader #fluff #cryptids

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i || part ii || part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills.

You’re his only solace.

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often.

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns.

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks.

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves.

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings.

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing.

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent.

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight.

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex. It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows.

It’s grim in its predictability.

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone.

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.”

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.)

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen.

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them—

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand.

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was.

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future.

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.)

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted.

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze.

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings.

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming.

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.”

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest.

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face.

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?”

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa.

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least.

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind.

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively.

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap.

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?”

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do.

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you.

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible.

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words.

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy—

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none.

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments.

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could.

“Do you see now?”

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch.

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky.

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning—

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.”

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side.

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness.

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.”

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do.

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan.

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see.

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection.

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep. The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue.

It bothers him—

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror.

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while.

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can.

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant.

All the same, the trim feels good.

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back—

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!”

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!”

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him.

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.)

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity.

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning.

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much. The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering.

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with.

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach.

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it.

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree.

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was.

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh.

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.”

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet.

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress.

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely.

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone.

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes.

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile.

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up—

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart.

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later.

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard.

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead.

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too—

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement.

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try.

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered.

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks.

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.)

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business.

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat.

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders.

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—”

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough.

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands.

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night.

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?)

But you’re not in the common room.

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath.

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten.

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard.

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him.

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more.

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone—

...

Keigo leaves the next morning.

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn.

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse.

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died.

All disgusting reminders.

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had.

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he.

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time.

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave.

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes.

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter.

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it.

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears—

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some.

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought.

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?”

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe.

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self.

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #hawks fanfic #hawks imagines #my hero academia #mha x reader #anyways tag wall #enjoy loves #smorch

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raindancer2004 · 3 years ago

Text

House Rules

Word Count: 2,241 Demetri x reader Oneshot Warnings: Fluff, a little NSFW

The idea for this one came from a post of @wallwriterstuff & the conversation that followed with @volturidoll13

Demetri met Y/N when he met Gianna after one of the Art classes, she took on a Thursday night. Aro didn’t like the idea of Gianna walking home alone in the dark and had asked Demetri to go meet her. He knew Y/N was his mate the moment he saw her; his throat burned at the smell of her blood but the need to taste her was overruled by his desire to protect her. Y/N was attracted to him the moment she saw him. He had given her a warm smile and his voice had made her weak in the knees. He walked her home that night too; in fact, every Thursday night he walked Y/N home before he and Gianna continued on their way to the castle.

Demetri had taken Y/N out on a few dates before telling her that he was a vampire and she was his mate, his one true love “So you mean I’m the key to your ‘happily ever after’?” She asked and he chuckled “Yes, exactly” He replied smiling at her “Ooh I don’t know Demetri…forever is such a long time. What if I get bored of you?” He knew she was teasing him but feigned offense anyway, his hand going to his unbeating heart “You wound me, Y/N” She laughed a little “I’m sure someone as old and strong as you will survive” She gave him a wink, he growled low and replied “I would never get bored of you nor would I ever allow you to get bored of me” One of his hands moved up her thigh, his little finger brushed her clothed centre as he nibbled her ear before placing a kiss below it, she bit her lip to supress a moan escaping them. He smiled against her skin “I can’t wait till you’re beneath me and I can hear all those little noises you’re going make whilst I’m inside you” He whispered “Me neither…but I don’t have sex on a third date” She whispered back “You’re sure about that? I can tell you’re aroused” He replied low “You’re not playing fair…Vampire” She breathed the last word and tapped his nose “I never said I would sweetheart” He kissed her cheek “Come on. I’ll take you home” He added and helped her with her coat.

A month later Demetri moved Y/N into the castle with him, excited that he was finally getting to live with his mate. Y/N was amazed by the size of Demetri’s quarters and liked the natural colour scheme of the room, a blood red rug in front of the fireplace accentuated the room.

“I need to discuss some things with you now that you’re living with me” Demetri said taking her hands in his “Ok, I’m all ears” She smiled at him “House rules; 1. Every other Wednesday between 12 and 2pm, please do not leave our quarters as it’s ‘tour’ day. The next ‘tour’ is this Wednesday” “Ahh, yes. Human take out day. I’ll be sure to stay here” She replied “2. Please do not leave the castle without me or Gianna with you. I need to know you’re safe” She nodded “Only the two rules?” She teased “3. Trouserless Tuesdays, where pants are optional” Demetri says, winking at her “By optional you mean it’s negotiable?” She asked “No. It’s not negotiable. As I said pants are optional on Trouserless Tuesdays” He smiled at her and she shook her head “You’re terrible” “Maybe, but I’m all yours” He replied and kissed her.

“Are you ready for family movie night?” Demetri called out “Yep. Whenever you are” She replied walking out of the walk-in closet dressed in her ‘Tinkerbell’ pyjamas and a pair of Giraffe slippers “What the F…” He trails off as he eyes her from head to toe “Are you wearing those downstairs?” “If you don’t accept me wearing my Disney pyjamas and giraffe slippers, then I’ve agreed to be railed by the wrong vampire for all eternity” She responded, Demetri’s mouth dropped open in shock. He shook his head and moved to stand in front of her “I accept you, no matter what you wear mi amore” He replied and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. “So, what’s this about agreeing to be railed by a vampire for all eternity?” He asked, one eyebrow raised “I thought that was part of the ‘mate’ package you offered me. Was I wrong?” She replied looking up at him through her lashes as she took her bottom lip between her teeth. He growled low and deep, his thumb removing her lip from her teeth as he captured her lips with his in a passionate kiss. “You weren’t wrong, I just don’t remember using that phrase” “Well, you are getting on a bit. I hear memory problems are common with the…ancient” She whispered the last word, teasing him again. He chuckled and scooped her up and put her over his shoulder and slapped her ass “Ooh” He dropped her carefully onto the bed and climbed on top of her, propping his weight on his elbows and rolled his hips against her, the button of his jeans rubbing her clit. “You should respect your elders, young one” He replied and kissed her again “And if I don’t?” She bit his bottom lip “I could make you” He bit her lip in return “That sounds like it could be fun…oh ancient one” She replied smiling at him “Is that my new nickname?” “Yep, seeing as you called me young one” “You started it sweetheart” He smiled and rolled off her and kissed her cheek “We’ll finish this later” He said and smacked her ass as she got off the bed “Counting on it” She turned and blew him a kiss.

He went into the closet to change into a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt. “Come on movie night’s about to start and you old people have trouble staying awake the later it gets” She called over her shoulder, smirking “Kids today. They have no respect. I blame the parents” He retorted with a smirk on his own.

He took her hand in his and they made their down to the family room ready for movie night “What are those on your feet?” Felix asked shocked as Y/N and Demetri sat beside him on the sofa “Felix meet Eddie and Annie” She replied and wiggled her feet, Felix laughed “Y-you named th-them?” “Don’t laugh at her” Demetri warned him “But she named her slippers D” Felix continued to laugh “Felix” He growled low “I think it’s endearing” Demetri added and wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close “Just ignore him, we do” Alec called out as she snuggled into Demetri’s side.

Y/N decided to buy Demetri a present and gave them to him upon his return from a two-day mission “Welcome home Dem. I’ve missed you” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck “I’ve missed you too sweetheart” Demetri replied, kissing her. “I’ve got you a gift” She led him over to the sofa and handed him a large gift bag. He opened the gift bag and removed a box, lifting the lid revealed a pair of Wolf slippers “I’ve even named them for you ‘Fang and Hunter’” She smiled at him, he smiled back at her, although he seemed nervous “You don’t like them Dem?” She asked “It’s not that. I love them thank you. It’s just vampires and Wolves don’t really get along” He replied “Oh, Oh…sorry I-I didn’t know. I just thought as Wolves are predators and you’re a predator, they’d be perfect” She apologised and seemed sad “Oh no, sweetheart. It’s ok really but Master Caius will have my head if he sees me in these!" He replied and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close and kissing her cheek.

Demetri decided he’d wear his slippers around his room, that way Y/N was happy and Caius couldn’t kill him. Y/N took pictures of him in his new Wolf slippers on her phone as well as a few of them together in their slippers “We’re making memories Demi” She smiled at him and he melted inside as he enjoyed making memories with her, even if some are a little silly.

“House Rule Number 4. We only wear our animal slippers in our room” Demetri tells her as he looks into her eyes “Ok, that sounds good…something just for us” She agreed and kissed him. He liked that he had made her smile and that she understood that the new house rule meant they were keeping something as innocent as Wolf slippers a secret from Caius.

However, Demetri became a little stressed at the situation he found himself in because the love of his immortal life had bought him a gift; one which he loved and seeing that noone had ever bought him a gift before, they meant something to him but the problem was if anyone knew the Wolf slippers existed and Caius found out, he would surely torture him in some way.

Felix entered Demetri’s room one evening to see the couple sitting on the sofa watching a movie in their pyjamas and slippers. “Not you too D?” Felix asked as he sat on the other sofa “Y/N got them for me and they’re quite comfortable actually” Demetri replied waving his feet about “Did you name them too?” Felix’s tone was a teasing one “No, I named them before I gave them to him” Y/N responded and Felix started laughing, so much so Y/N thought he may actually wet himself “You tell anyone Fe & I’ll kill you” Felix nodded but continued to laugh.

Y/N enjoyed living with her vampire mate as there was never a dull moment in the castle especially with Demetri to keep her company. She enjoyed the sunset picnics on the castle roof, the shared bubble baths and showers as they always led to something more. Date nights were always fun no matter who planned them.

The masters needed Demetri to track a coven in England and Caius made a special trip to the tracker’s room. He knocked on the door and entered “Good evening Demetri” “Good evening master” He replied and bowed “I need you to track that small coven in England” Demetri concentrated for a moment before replying “They are currently in Oxford, master.” Caius nodded “Thank you but I must ask what on earth are those on your feet?” He asked “Y/N bought me the Wolf slippers as a gift, she owns Giraffe ones” Dem replied “I know, I’ve seen hers but why would she buy you Wolf slippers?” Caius asked “Wolves are predators and I am a predator and she thought they’d be perfect” Dem responded, Caius nodded “I understand but I’m not sure I like them though. They are not to be worn around the castle” “Yes master” Demetri agreed, knowing he had no plans to do so. “Nice pyjamas” Caius smirked when he saw Y/N leave the bathroom in Beige pyjamas with Cocktail Glasses and Palm Trees on, that just so happened to match Demetri’s “Thank you Caius, they’re known ‘couple pyjamas.’ It allows couples to wear matching nightwear” Y/N responded and bowed her head a little. Caius found it amusing that the World’s Best Tracker and his human mate wore matching pyjamas. ‘How sweet’ he thought to himself.

Caius decided to punish Demetri in an interesting way after he discovered Demetri’s Wolf slippers. Demetri was over 1000 years old and found himself ‘grounded’ and ‘remanded’ to his shared room with Y/N for one week. “Use this upcoming week to bond more with Y/N” “I will thank you” Demetri replied, Caius smiled and left the room.

The week Demetri spent in his room with Y/N was one of the best weeks of his life, that Demetri could recall; they did become closer, their bond strengthening as a result. They binged watched TV shows and films and well as reading silently on their own or sometimes aloud to each other. They also spent many intimate moments together, neither one able to get enough of the other.

“It’s Tuesday why are you wearing trousers? Have you forgotten House Rule number 3?” Demetri asked as Y/N walked out of the bathroom “I remember House Rule number 3 and these are not trousers. These are Capri Pants” She replied smiling & twirling “Pants? What the EVER-loving hell are those?” Demetri says as he looks at her “Panties, I’ve heard of those. Yours are currently on our bedroom floor…” He winked and nodded over his shoulder “…But pants? Never heard of them” “So, that’s where my panties went?” She replied, winking at him and he growled at her. Before she knew what was happening, he was in front of her and she felt him tear her pants off “Hey” She cried out “Trouserless Tuesday” He replied and gestured to his naked lower half before pushing her against the wall; lifting her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he entered her in one slow long stroke “Ahh…” She breathed “See, this is why we have House Rule number 3” He continued to thrust in and out of her slowly, making love to her “Oh, unrestricted access to one another?” He nodded at her “I think Tuesdays may just be my favourite day of the week” She added with a wink “Mine too sweetheart. Mine too.”

#demetri volturi #jane volturi #felix volturi #alec volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi #marcus volturi #volturi #twilight #oneshot #demetri x reader

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Because Hearts Get Broken (Part 1/3)

Synopsis: When your whole life you’ve been taught to push your feelings away, it’s hard to open up, even to the people you trust most. And sometimes what you give isn’t enough.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: sad. just angsty and sad. swearing; emotionally closed reader

Word count: 2904

Y/N had never been the kind of person who talks about her feelings. It didn’t matter if it was friends or family; her mindset was – they’re my problems, so you don’t have to worry your head about it.

In relationships, it wasn’t any better, in fact, it was kinda worse. It was extremely difficult for the girl to open up to her partner, which in turn she’d let so many possible relationships pass her by. Not to mention, when she was in one, they slowly deteriorated because of her inability to share with them. Which is why it didn’t come as much of a surprise when it happened between her and Harry.

Somehow unconsciously Y/N had been almost preparing herself, preparing her heart for it to break. When he walked inside his place, she’d been there to prepare them a meal in. They’d both had a stressful couple of weeks with Harry starting off on a new album endeavour, while Y/N’s boss was practically threatening to rip her head off, as she scrambled to finish everything, even though the deadlines were months away.

It just all kind of came crashing down on her when her boss suddenly called her up, telling her to rush back to the office, and when Y/N asked if it could wait until the morning, the ultimatum came that if she wanted her job, she’d do it then and there.

“Hey.” She hadn’t heard Harry come in, only noticed it when his arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. “Hey, shh, come ‘ere.”

Slowly, he laid the two of them down, letting her head be tucked beneath his chin, as his palm rubbed soothing circles on her back. “ ‘S gonna be okay, dove. ‘S gonna be alright. Come on, now.”

They laid like that for about five minutes, until Y/N pushed her face away from Harry’s chest and laid her cheek there, taking in a few short, shaky breaths, and steadying herself by placing her palm on his chest and feeling the steady thuds of his heart.

“Wanna talk about it?” he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, but she sighed, shaking her head no.

“ ‘S fine. Overreacted.”

“You were sitting on the couch, crying and hyperventilating, dove. Obviously, something’s wrong.”

“Harry,” Y/N let out a long breath. “Can you please just let it go? It’s nothing major. If it was, I’d tell you.”

“Would you though?” The whisper went almost unnoticed, but Y/N did hear it, and it made her eyebrows furrow and push herself up from where they’d been nestled together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean.” Harry bit the inside of the cheek. “When is the last time you ever told me what’s bothering you? Like really, truly made you upset?”

“What are you implying?” Y/N’s voice had gone steely, almost emotionless, as her brain pretty much screamed ‘it’s happening’.

“How can I help you when you don’t let me in?” His gaze was pleading, as his hands grasped onto her cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Pardon?”

Y/N sighed and stood up from the couch, letting his touch fall away. “You’re not supposed to. They’re my problems to deal with, not yours, so you’re not supposed to help me. And there’s nothing to help me with.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” she scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“How are we supposed to be in a relationship, if you don’t trust me?”

“I dunno,” Y/N whispered hugging herself. Sometimes she hated how her brain worked, but it was inevitable, right? It always came to this, so why not be the bad guy in the situation. “Maybe we’re not supposed to then.”

Harry was more than stunned at her reply. Not once during their relationship, he'd thought that her immediate reaction to a problem would be to immediately dismiss their love. "You - you don't mean that."

"Well," Y/N sniffled wiping at her cheeks where new tears were trailing down, "maybe I do. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I mean they do say the first year is spent with rose-coloured glasses on, right? 'S time to take 'em off."

“So that’s it? You’re giving up just like that?”

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N exasperated throwing her hands up. “It’s the way I am, and I can’t change that. And if you can’t accept it, then yeah, maybe I am giving up just like that.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I –,” he stammered, “I can’t believe this.”

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“To fight!” He was practically yelling at this point, hoping to see some kind of emotion on Y/N’s face. “To let me in! To – to – fuck! To start trusting me!”

“I do trust you!”

“But not enough to trust me with your heart.”

A deafening silence fell over both of them because without needing a confirmation, Harry knew he’d struck gold. God, how he wished he hadn’t, but the numb expression Y/N's face morphed into told him enough.

“I’m giving you what I can.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, resolute. “And if that’s not something you can accept, then this is it.”

Now Harry was the silent one. But sometimes you don’t need words to say everything you mean.

“Okay then.” She nodded, went to the mantlepiece and took her clutch. “I’ll see ya around, I guess.”

And with that Y/N walked out of Harry’s apartment without a glance back.

***

Two and a half months later and he still couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. He was at the New Year party, and Y/N was there too, courtesy of Sarah, who was their mutual friend and hosted it each year. This one was a lot more intimate, seeing as the pandemic, though contained, was still raging on, so only the closest and most important people in her life had been invited. Sarah'd been actually the one who introduced the two. Well, more so given them a shove in the right direction. A literal one at that.

The night had been absolute chaos and became an even bigger one when Y/N entered his life, Harry recalled. Drinks were flowing, bodies were moving in an erratic rhythm, most of them completely unaware of how the music boomed while voices shouted the incorrect lyrics and glasses clinked as everyone celebrated the upcoming year, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the countdown. That’s when Sarah, pulling a woman by her arm stormed towards Harry and pushed her into his chest.

“Do not let her leave your sight!” she’d hollered over the music, as Harry blinked at his drummer. “And you!” Sarah pointed at the woman, who giggled, hiding behind her champagne glass and slinking further down Harry’s frame, so much so, he had to grab onto her armpits otherwise she would fall. “Behave for at least five minutes! I need to check up on Mitch before he decides vodka would be a good addition and completely destroys the room.”

With that Sarah was gone, brown hair swishing in a high ponytail, leaving Harry confused and concerned as this stranger snickered behind Sarah’s back, showing her tongue like a child would.

“Umm,” he started not really knowing what to do. “You alright there?”

“ ‘M Y/N.” She leaned up with as much grace as a drugged-up cat, spun around to face him and extended her hand to him, and he took it, giving it a firm shake. “And I might be a lil’ bit drunk.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t say?”

“I do.” Y/N nodded confidently about her statement as she swayed on her feet. Harry had to grab her by the shoulder for the woman to remain somewhat upright. “And when I’m drunk, I thrive on chaos.”

“Is that why Sarah shoved you to me so I can babysit you?”

“See, she just doesn’t appreciate me and my talents. She thinks that I’m ‘unreliable’.” Y/N put the word in quotation marks, and in doing so, half her champagne spilt out of the flute. “And she thinks I need ‘supervision’.” There went the other half. “Honestly, it’s Sarah that needs to be looked after. It’s not me that set the curtains on fire.”

But the look on her face told Harry something different, and a smile bloomed on his face. “You set the curtains on fire?”

“I just told you, I didn’t.”

“Yes, well, your face is telling me a different story.”

Instantly Y/N facepalmed. “Stupid face. Can’t keep in check. Listen, the curtains were just…” She waved her hand around. “In the way of the flame. ‘S not my fault they’re made from such flammable material. Should’ve gotten more fire-resistant curtains, if you ask me.”

“Note taken – don’t let you near anything that can be set on fire or is fire.”

Y/N scoffed and gave Harry a side-eye. “As if you can tell me what to do. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“And why's that?”

“Stranger danger.” Y/N wagged her free index finger in Harry’s face accentuating each syllable.

“Well then, let’s not be strangers.” He extended his hand just as Y/N had and waited until she took it. “ ‘M name’s Harry.”

“Good to meet you, Harry. Now, Sarah said nothing about not letting me dance, so come on! I love this song!” she exclaimed, making Harry throw his head back in laughter as she dragged him to the middle of the room, bodies grinding against them, but it didn’t really matter. Not when Y/N made Harry feel as if it was just the two of them in the world.

“Do you now?”

“Yes! Especially when he does the ‘da – dananana da – dananana’ part.” Her eyes went wide with excitement and pride. “Sarah’s in this song as well! She's the drummer!”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Y/N clearly had no idea who she was talking to, and he was kind of loving her for it. Most of the time, as flattering as it was, it could become quite taxing when people recognised you with every step of the way. He wasn’t really allowed to have his smile leave his face, nor was he allowed to stay too lost in his thoughts, needing to be on constant alert if someone asked something.

But Y/N seemed to not care, and something in Harry told him – she wouldn’t care about it if she knew the truth.

“Wanna hear a secret?”

Y/N gasped, eyes twinkling in the disco ball light. “Of course! I love secrets.”

“I’m Harry!”

“I know you’re Harry. You said it already.”

Her confused face made his smile widen even more. “No, I mean I’m Harry. Harry Styles. This is my song.”

And then it dawned on her inebriated brain. “Ooh. You’re Harry Styles!”

“Yeah.”

“Good for you then!” And she put up her hand in a high-five, and he couldn’t leave her just hanging like that, belly-shaking laughter erupting from him before he weaved their fingers together and spun her around.

That night had been one of the best New Year’s he’d ever had. Throughout the hour before the clock struck 12, she’d sobered up enough that when Harry asked if he could kiss her, she was coherent and could say yes. It’d been the best kiss of their lives by that point.

But now, seeing Y/N walk around Sarah’s apartment a smile on her face that he recognised to be fake, and laughter ringing in his ears that he knew wasn’t true, made him look back at that night and wonder if she’d been truly happy then.

She definitely seemed to have been, fuck, Harry hoped she was happy for at least some of it; that when Y/N said she was alright, she’d truly meant it, otherwise, he had no idea what he’d do with himself, but in all honesty, despite the fallout between the two, what he wished was for her to come back. To give him the slightest glimpse into what worried her. That would be enough.

In the beginning, Harry supposed, it was his own fault. He’d thought Y/N was just strong, she was so level-headed that whenever something was wrong, it was tackled immediately and righted that exact second, but in truth, it was just hiding, putting on a performance and living through a smile that was a complete lie.

He saw Sarah lean into Y/N and whisper something in her ear before her head snapped in Harry’s direction, Y/E/C eyes meeting his. He then watched her let out a breath, give Sarah a small smile and look at him once more before approaching, Harry’s own back straightening out as she opened the balcony door and entered his space.

She was a vision, a black and gold glitter romper covering her body, cinched at the waist with a solid gold-colour metal band, while the sleeves fluttered off in a ‘Morticia Addams’ style, as Y/N liked to call it, with her hair out of the way of her face in a simple knot at the base of her neck. Easy to make and easy to take out.

“Bobby pins are the creations of the Devil,” she’d muttered one night after they’d gone to some Hollywood event. Harry couldn't even remember what it'd been for, most of his focus on making sure his date was alright.

One by one she'd untwisted and twirled the metal pins out of her head. “Fucking, scraping my brain from the outside of my skull.”

Harry had chuckled, untying the lace front of his blouse style shirt. “Wanna massage?”

The affirmative groan made him grin like a child on Christmas.

Y/N was the one to break the silence, after having her eyes rake over his own form. A fitted chequered suit paired with a simple dress shirt and chequered moccasins. One of the tamer looks for him, but he wasn’t feeling very festive this year.

“Hey.”

Harry sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

God, how had everything become so fucking awkward between them?

“How,” she cleared her throat, “how are you?”

“Honestly?” Harry wanted to spit out the ‘I’m fine’, the line that was so overused by her it’d lost its meaning, but he couldn’t. He’d always been an open book, especially with Y/N, so he told her the truth. “I’m hurting.”

“Harry…” Her eyes met the floor unable to hold his green gaze.

“Every day I wake up, and I’m in pain. And it’s not getting easier. And it won’t. Not for a long while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He laughed even though he didn’t mean it. “I just wanted you to talk to me. You know I’d never judge you.”

“It’s not about that…”

“Then what is it?” Harry snapped. “Because I’m at a fucking loss here. Have been for the past two and a half months.”

“It’s not easy when…” Y/N actually bit down on her tongue to not let the words out. She took in a calm, collected breath; then she continued. “It’s not easy to open up like you want me to when my whole life I’ve been taught to just push it down. Push it away, forget about it. I don’t know a different life. That’s my normal, that’s what I know. I know you wouldn’t have judged me, you’re not that kind of a person. But it’s not even about that. It’s… it’s… why couldn’t you have just left everything at ‘I’m fine’?”

“Because I don’t want to be fine,” he said, sad eyes looking right through her, right through to Y/N’s being. “I – I wanna be great, and ecstatic and fucking exhilarated or hurting or sad, even devastated. I want to feel things. And I want to share them with the person I trust most. I wanna share them with you. And I want you to share your emotions with me too. It’s not your job to carry the weight of the world on your own. That’s what a partner is there for.”

Y/N broke away from Harry’s eyes given how her own were now lined with tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. She sniffled, using the sleeve of her romper to press against her nose.

New Years. When the previous one had started off with so much love and hope and laughter and the new one seemed to only show it had tears and heartache ahead. God, this was the worst holiday in existence.

“Ten, nine, eight,” the people inside counted down.

“Y/N, please.” One last try. He had to.

“Seven, six, five.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know how to be different."

“Three, two, one! Hap–“

“Happy New Year, Harry.” Y/N leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek. “I hope you find someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

With hands in her pockets, she retreated leaving him standing alone on the balcony, but right as she was about to close the sliding door, he spoke up.

“I had.”

That made Y/N spin around, cold air hitting her face just as harshly as the truth that spilt past his lips.

“Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: Part 2? maybe??

P.S. my tags are always open :)

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

All Over Again - Chapter 11

Summary: What was lost can be found.

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence.

Ch. 10

* * * * * *

Sweat builds with each second that passes.

You wring your fingers together nervously as your leg bounces up and down.

Calling a team meeting was the fastest way to get this done so here you sit, in the common room of the compound, waiting for everyone to show up.

Just two weeks ago you’d come to the decision to move to National City with Lena. In the time that passed after that you spent three days there, mostly hanging with Lena but also visiting the DEO. You weren’t surprised to see Alex there, the woman being the director. While she hadn’t welcomed you with open arms, she was impressed with your initial interview(which was just her kicking your ass up and down the training room). After being assured you’d have a spot at the DEO by the Director herself, you came back to NYC.

The team had yet to handle the enhanced individual situation but the moment you got back, or at least the day after, you all organized a mission to capture them. With the whole team’s collective strength and skill, you were successful in capturing the enhanced which you were glad for. It made this part all the more easy.

“Y/Ln what’s the reason for this meeting?” Steve asks, stepping around the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, a mask of strictly business written on his face.

“I-I’d rather wait for the rest of the team before I say anything. Could you sit?” You gesture to the couch, ignoring how your hand shakes in nervousness.

Steve clearly catches the involuntary action, eyebrow quirking in the slightest. He sits nonetheless.

Much like Steve, everyone eyes you curiously or straight out asks what the point of the meeting is as they come in and you tell them to be patient. Until finally everyone is seated on the couches around you, all of their eyes trying to look through you to figure out what’s going on.

They’re the people you’ve grown to love and care for over the years. People you’d give your life for without question. Your family. And you’re about to leave them.

E/c eyes land on familiar green ones. The two of you have yet to talk again, after the engagement situation and all. Admittedly you’d miss the hell out of her. Sure things haven’t been great the past couple years but that couldn’t write away all the good before that. She’d given you a love like no other for three years. She cherished and loved you and there was no denying that.

You then look over to the other set of green eyes. Ones that belonged to the young woman you’ve loved and will always love. You claim her as your best friend but she’s your sister, a blessing you hadn’t had before the Avengers. God, leaving her is going to be the hardest. Looking at her soft, reassuring expression, it’s already tearing you up inside.

“Um-” you clear your throat, hating the sting of fresh tears that starts in your eyes,“ I guess there’s no easy way to say this but I- I’m moving to National City.”

. . .

“No you’re not.” Natasha is the first to speak, voice hard with determination. That same emotion in her eyes.

But the look you give her makes that slip away.

Steve frowns, sliding to the edge of the couch,“ why?”

You have to look away from Natasha. You can’t say why if you’re staring into those already hurt green eyes.“ My girlfriend lives in National City. I think it’d be best for our relationship and quite frankly myself if we were closer.”

That answer triggers a wave of mixed responses from everyone. For the most part they’re upset but some of them, Bucky and Bruce, are fairly calm about it all. Sam is damn near shouting at you, not understanding why long distance couldn’t continue to work since it had obviously been before. Steve can’t believe you’d give up saving people to go to National City and you can’t even tell him that that’s not what you’re doing since Natasha is mean mugging you and damn near spitting at you that you need to think on this more and it’d be stupid of you to just up and leave for a relationship that’s just begun.

In their anger, no one notices the single tear that slides down your cheek, almost no one. Before you can swipe it away and pretend it’s not there, a gentle hand rests on your cheek and an equally soft thumb brushes it away.

You already know who it belongs to and you can’t bring yourself to look at her.

“Y/n,” Wanda’s quiet, honey like voice hits your ears.“ Is moving going to make you happy?”

Out of all the things you’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. It makes you look at her.

She’s squatting in front of you, one hand resting on your knee and the other still on your cheek. The look in her eyes, though distorted by unshed tears, is pure and sincere. Your best friend/sister just wants you to be happy. To her, you deserve it more than anyone she’s ever known. She’s seen how happy Lena makes you and if going to be with her is going to further that she sure as hell isn’t going to stand in the way of that.

Nodding, you take a shaky breath,“ yeah it is”

“Then go and don’t feel bad for leaving.” Now she’s the one letting tears fall.“ Just promise to come visit.”

Both your hands cup her face to wipe the now quickly falling tears,“ you know I could never leave you for long.” The two of you, moving in near perfect harmony, wrap each other in a hug.

Wanda’s arms loop around your neck, face pressed into your neck, as yours tightly wrap around her waist.

“I’m gonna miss you so much Wan.” Your voice is a whisper against her neck.

The two of you remain in your embrace, completely forgetting the team around you. They all looked on, seeing you like that with Wanda makes them realize that as hard as this is for them it’s the same for you. You may be the one making the decision to move but that doesn’t mean you aren’t hurt by leaving them.

Pulling away, Wanda grabs your hand. At this point she just needs to be close to you.

“When are you leaving?” Steve asks.

You take one more steadying breath,“ about a month from now. I want to get everything squared away here.” His eyebrow raises.“ If it’s okay with you I’d like to stay as a remote member of the team, I’d be more than happy to come help if need be but I’ll be working with the DEO in National City.”

Steve nods, already knowing of the organization, while the rest of the team waits for an explanation.

“Department of Extranormal Operations.”

“So you have everything set then?” Bucky asks.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips,“ yeah. Job is set and I’ll be living with Lena. Plus it’s nice to already have friends there so-”

“You’re living with her?” All gazes more to Natasha.“ What if things don’t work out?”

Instead of getting angry with her, you take a deep breath in. She’s upset which you take into consideration before replying,“ well for one I’m hoping things do indeed work out and if they don’t I’m very capable of making it on my own if need be.”

Her eyes narrow at you and the second Bruce’s hand brushes her leg she shoots up and walks away. E/c eyes follow her as she leaves the common room and you look back at Bruce,“ you mind if I-”

“Sure sure.” He nods and gestures after her.

Giving Wanda’s hand a gentle squeeze, you smile softly at her nod, and follow after the upset redhead. She can only be one of two places and when you check the first(the gym) and she’s not there, you head straight up to the roof.

As expected you find her there. She’s sitting on the ledge, legs hanging over, as she plays with her fingers. For just a moment you allow myself to take in how beautiful she still is, especially with the sun accentuating the brown specks in her green eyes and her hair, unusually, in a ponytail. You look away before you can begin to feel guilty.

“Hey.” Your voice is deliberately soft as you sit beside her.

When she looks over, you can feel her eyes bore into the side of your head.“ I knew when you told me that I wouldn’t lose you it wasn’t true bu-”

“I meant it when I said you wouldn’t lose me-”

“Yet you haven’t spoken to me since that day and now you’re leaving so how am I not losing you?”

“I’m not leaving forever Natasha. And I’m sorry we haven’t spoken but things have been insane between us and I don’t want it to be. I just got frustrated with the engagement and your need for an answer.”

“I’m sorry okay I didn’t want to frustrate you.” Seeing tears glisten in her eyes breaks your heart.“ If you’re leaving because of me- because of how I’ve been acting then don’t okay I can-”

Hating that the usually strong woman is so deeply affected by this, you wrap an arm around her without thought, and pull her into your side. She’s quick to bring her arms around your middle and hug you back.

The deep sigh you give makes her tighten her hold a bit.“ Tasha I promise you I’m not leaving because of you. Like I’ve said, things haven’t been perfect with us but that doesn’t mean I’d run from it. I just want to be closer to Lena.”

Those words make Natasha pull back, her hands running up her face and over her hair.“ Is this real- with her?” Honestly the woman is trying her damndest to come to terms with you, quite obviously, loving someone else.

You nod, making sure to look into her eyes so she knows how serious you are,“ it is. I truly love her and I know she feels the same. It’s why this move is so important. We’re going to have issues and the distance would just make that worse. And I don’t want the distance to be the problem either.”

“I understand.” She nods, her bottom lip settling between her teeth as she looks away.“ Just be careful I- I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Trust me I will be.”

Silence creeps in and you both stay up there for a little longer. It’s the most untense the atmosphere has ever been between yourself and Natasha in years and finally, after all this time around her, you can smile. Natasha, upon seeing the expression, does so herself.

But around the compound moments never last. This particular one is cut short at the quiet, almost inaudible, sound of a jet.

Looking ahead reveals the all too familiar red and gold color metal suit. Iron Man hovering up and over onto the roof. His thrusters stop and he power poses as he hits the ground. His helmet disassembles from his face to reveal the glare he’s fixed at you.

Taken aback by it, you lean away just a little,“ hey Tony.”

“You’re leaving. I don’t recall giving you permission to do so.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues,“ as an original member of the team and a long time friend I hereby forbid from leaving. Glad that’s settled.” He shrugs as if to end the conversation.

With raised eyebrows, you reply,“ Tony, it’s best for me to go to National City, and it’s best for-”

“Miss Luthor. Yes I’m aware. Lena’s a lucky lady but we have dibs so. . .” His eyes scan your face before flicking away to some random sight.

Sighing, you step toward the man and rest a hand on the nanotech suit. You aren’t at all surprised by his reaction, especially after the way everyone else reacted. This is his way of telling you he’s going to miss you without saying anything.“ Tony I promise I’m gonna visit. And I’ll be on call for whenever I’m needed.”

“Then you might as well just not leave.”

A pointed look from you and Tony knows to not fight it any further. Not that he really thought his words would make you stay.

“Don’t think you’re escaping without a party.” He says as the helmet forms again.“ I’ll send you the details, make sure the schedule’s clear.” And with that he shoots off into the sky.

Over the next few weeks you find yourself more busy than you have been. For the majority of the beginning you focus on dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s of your business with the Avengers, filing mission reports, working on weapons that could be needed, and finishing missions that were previously assigned.

The very second that was all done, you went straight to Wanda. Your first night with the young woman, you didn’t sleep a wink, even though it was a sleepover.

Between the endless movies, random dance/singing sessions, pigging out on food and sweets, and just talking to each other about any and everything, you’d ended up spending four days with her and only her. After which you promptly, and rightfully, dedicated time to your entire team.

Your impending departure drew you closer to every member of the team, yes even Bruce who, while not your best friend or anything, proved to be a truly cool guy. The time spent with him pushed you over that line you’d been hesitant to cross. He’s what Natasha needs and what she wants. Acknowledging that she’s going to be more than fine with you gone makes this whole thing that bit easier.

Before you know it, your last month is up.

“Hey, you ready?”

Smoothing your hands down the button up you’d chosen for tonight, you raise your gaze to Wanda through the mirror and smile.“ Is anyone ever ready for Tony’s parties?” You refrain from bringing up that it’ll be your last for a while.

Your best friend shakes her head,“ no never.” She makes you chuckle.

Easily looping her arm around yours, she walks you both out of your now empty room and down the halls to the common room.

With Tony having planned this whole thing, you weren’t sure what to expect but what you find doesn’t surprise you.

Across the front windows are big golden balloons spelling out “Later Traitor” and you nod, suppressing a laugh. More gold and silver balloons and streamers decorate the place. The table is covered with food and the bar is just barely decorated but still in theme.

“Ever one for tact mister Stark.” You joke as you approach him.

His head rises, brown eyes locking with yours,“ I wouldn’t be me if I weren’t honest.” The man hands his drink over to Pepper,“ I’ll need daily reports of your time in NC,” the billionaire says, leaving no room for a rebuttal as he adds,“ and if you need anything at all let me know.” With that he’s pulling you into a hug.

Admittedly it’s been a long while since you’ve hugged Tony and you missed it. It wasn’t much of a common occurrence but for him to now show his care for you through the action warms your heart.

Gentle pats to each other's backs make you pull away. You exchange a few words with Pepper who’s as sweet as she’s always been, making you promise to visit often, before hugging and then heading to the bar.

Much like every party you’d been to here, your eyes are met with the sight of an incredibly familiar redhead. Her hair is down, curls falling over her shoulders in complement to the fitting black dress she sports.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You instantly tease, leaning against the bartop.

Green eyes land on you, a large amount of restraint used to not let them linger your form,“ I figured if anyone would be serving you drinks tonight it should be me.” Red lips curl into a little smirk.

Head tilting ever so slightly as you smile a bit, you nod,“ than I’ll have the usual miss Romanoff.”

As she makes your drink, you’re approached by a number of people: Rhodey, Carol, Steve, Bucky, etc. Everyone makes mention of seeing you soon, wishing you luck, and promising to not be strangers. You’re hugged more now than you’ve ever been.

A coaster is placed right beside your arm, your usual sat on top in a glass.“ Enjoying all the attention Y/Ln?”

“In every way I’ll allow myself to yes.” You answer cryptically, knowing Natasha understands.

Martini glass raised to her lips, she takes a sip and maintains eye contact,“ if you need to step away feel free to find me,” another smirk,“ or if you need another drink.”

Walking away with her statement lingering in the air, Natasha ensures she doesn’t look back at you.

You chuckle softly, a slight shake of your head your way of accepting her small flirtatious comment. It’s Natasha, you expect nothing less.

Over the next few hours, surrounded by the people you’ve spent almost half your life with, stories are shared, jokes are told, and more memories are made. By the time you take Natasha up on her offer to step away, your stomach and face hurts from laughing and smiling seemingly too much.

The redhead eyes you while walking up the stairs,“ you’re not gonna die on me on the way up are you?” She teases about your rapid breaths and slightly flushed face.

“Are you implying you wouldn’t try to save me?” You quirk a brow.

The so-so tilt of her head makes your jaw drop and she laughs at you,“ you know I’d stop at nothing to ensure your safety Y/n.”

Her words make you smile softly and you goodnaturedly bump your shoulder against hers,“ ditto Romanoff.”

Your time on the roof with her is spent in scattered silence. Every so often one of you brings up a memory or some random topic. Reconnecting with her feels really good and it’s a shared sentiment, made known as the two of you turn to head back inside.

“Hey uh,” she reaches out, grabbing your hand and stopping you from walking further,“ I- I’m really going to miss you.”

Eyes softening, you think nothing of pulling her into a hug. Her arms wrap around your middle and yours take place around her shoulders. For the first time in years, Natsha’s head rests against your chest, ear pressed to your heartbeat.

“I’m gonna miss you too Tash.” Giving her a good squeeze, you pull back, still holding her shoulders,“ you make sure I get a wedding invite.”

Smiling softly, she nods, and hugs you once more.

After that things seemed to move faster than you’d wished. You say goodbye to everyone who’d come to see you off, grabbed the things you packed to take with you on your flight, and climbed onto the quinjet.

Wanda had insisted she be with you until she absolutely had to leave your side, which is why Sam offered to fly. The man now pilots the jet as you sit beside your best friend in the back.

Her body presses into your side, arms wrapped securely around you as you reciprocate her cuddle.

“I’m moving, not dying.” You joke lightly even though your emotions match hers exactly.

She sighs and snuggles closer as if that’s possible,“ I know but this is different than before. It’s permanent. No more random sleepovers and throwing popcorn at Bucky during movie nights. I won’t be able to have your breakfast in the morning or be able to train with you just to get distracted halfway through.”

The sigh you now give is just like hers,“ I mean, we’ll still be able to do that stuff, just not as frequently as we used to. I promise I’ll visit often.”

Your promise lingers in the air until you’re flying into National City. The closer the jet gets to the ground the more visible the awaiting black sedan. It pulls a smile to your face when you land and see the gorgeous woman waiting at the front of the car, her gaze clearly locked on the jet.

As the doors open and the jet sits idly, Sam gets up to help carry your bags and you stay back to have one more moment with Wanda.

“Call me when you guys get back home, kay?” You give the younger woman a pointed look and she nods.“ I told you I’d always be there for you and that won’t change cause I’m moving.”

She nods again,“ I know, I know.” Then pulls you into a tight hug, face buried against your chest like Natasha’s had hours ago.

“I love you Wan.” You whisper against her hair. Wanda replies with the same sentiment and a tight squeeze before stepping away.

From her you give Sam a quick hug, jokingly telling him not to waste the imbued bullets you’d left for him, and then back step as they climb back into the jet.

Reaching Lena’s side, the woman wastes no time slipping her hand into yours as you watch the jet take off.

It’s quiet for a moment, then Lena asks,“ you okay?”

You turn to face her and smile brightly,“ I am yeah.” Stepping closer, you rest your forehead against hers,“ I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Her voice is just as quiet is yours and she draws closer to kiss you passionately.

Having her lips against yours after a month sends a swirling feeling straight to your stomach and you sigh into the kiss.

“Let’s get home shall we?”

A simple nod later and you’re climbing into the car and pulling away from the private airstrip. The whole drive to Lena’s apartment, you damn near feel the excitement radiating off of her. From the way her hand squeezes yours to the taps of her fingers against the steering wheel and the little smile that seems permanently on her lips. Admittedly it makes you just as excited, seeing how clearly important it is to her that you’re here and moving in just makes your heart flutter.

Just when you think she can’t get any cuter, the instant you’re in the apartment a brilliant smile is on both your faces.

The usually calm and collected CEO takes you around the place in an adorably giddy mood, showing you all that she’d changed to insure you are comfortable moving in. She’d cleared off spaces on her bookshelves for you, converted one of her guest rooms to a mini lab/office just for you, and what she seemed most excited about, having cleared space in her closet and had a new dresser brought in for your clothes, plus making sure there was room for your things in the master bathroom.

Her words seemed to escape her faster than the Flash as she walked you through the entire place and showed you everything. You’d spent more time looking at her beautiful face, green eyes lighting up like stars, than you did actually paying attention to the tour of your new home. But you’ll have plenty of time to learn the place so it doesn’t matter.

Your welcome doesn’t stop there either. Once you both have unpacked your essentials, Lena has dinner, the usual takeout, and champagne waiting for you at the table. As you eat and indulge in more than a few glasses, you express your appreciation for all that she’d done and you both share in your excitement about this whole thing.

Laughter and smiles continue as you share about your little quirks and pet peeves when it comes to living with someone. There weren’t many and truthfully most of them were shared so you didn’t think this would end in flames.

All that excitement leads to pure nervousness as you both realize how tired you are. In the rush of it all, neither of you really gave thought to the fact that you’d be sharing a bed tonight. It seems as though you both try to procrastinate a bit, taking longer than needed to wash the dishes and bring in the last of your bags and having showers that go just a little too long.

By the time you're both ready, Lena is biting her lip nervously as you stand side by side staring at the large king size bed.

Silence sits far too long for your liking, resulting in a soft chuckle from you.

“Can we admit that we’re being a bit childish here?” You ask, looking over at her green orbs.

Seeing the light in your e/c ones and hearing your teasing tone make her laugh a little,“ yeah I guess we are.”

But when she doesn’t move you figure it’s on you, so furthering the childishness, you jump onto the bed. Bouncing back until you’re resting against the headboard, you pull the covers back and pat the other side of the mattress while looking at Lena.

“Let’s not lose sleep because we’re being awkward.”

At your words, she shakes her head and climbs into the very space you’d just patted. After you’re both comfortable under the cloud-like comforter, Lena presses a single button on the remote on her side table and the lights go out.

Another button push has the curtains drawing closed, the room going dark, aside from the slivers of moonlight.

It takes a couple hesitant twists and turns for you to find a position that's just right, only to realize that in a bed beside the woman you love, this position(facing the windows away from her) isn’t at all how you wish to sleep.

With a short inhale, you shift once more, turning around to face Lena who you find staring up at the ceiling. Subconsciously you bite your lip. It’s not lost on you how cliche it is to say that she looks breathtaking in the moonlight but you can’t possibly ignore it.

The white rays sneak through her curtains casting this incredibly angelic glow on to her skin. You’re so lost in her that you don’t even notice when she turns to look at you, that is until you look back up to her eyes and find that green you’ve grown to love staring right back.

“Am I being creepy?” You whisper into the silence inciting a quiet giggle from the woman.

She shakes her head,“ no you’re not.” Her eyes search your eyes and the cutest little frown and pout covers her face,“ what’s wrong?” Whatever she found made her ask.

“I don’t know. Nothing’s really wrong it’s just-” You pause to think of what to say and how to say it. Lena’s soft eyes remind you of how honest you can be with her, free of judgment, which leads to you blabbing what’s running through your head.“ I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I can’t help but want to hold you or your hand at least. And I can’t just roll over and do that cause what if you don’t like to be held or you aren’t ready for-”

Your girlfriend, amidst your rambling, doesn't withhold her smile. She’s seen the confidence you hold while speaking to investors or members of “high ranking society”, she’s seen the incredibly sweet you that’s portrayed in your dealing with her friends and Wanda, and she’s obviously seen the nerdy side of you that could convert alien engine energy into clean reusable energy.

Each side of you she’d fallen in love with. And now she has the privilege of seeing this, slightly flustered and still partly dorky side, and falling in love all over again.

Mid rant, Lena scoots closer, runs her gentle fingers up your arm to cup your neck, and kisses you. The soft plump muscles melt against yours making you sigh in pure euphoria.

“I was talking too much huh?” You ask once having pulled away.

A chuckle falls against your lips from hers,“ not necessarily. I just found your rambling cute.” Heat rushes to your face at her admission.“ And for the record, I would love it if you held me.”

“Yeah?”

She nods and smiles softly before turning over, grabbing your arm, and lying it over her waist.

You take her consent and encouragement to scoot closer so as to press against her. Lena sighs happily at the soft warm breaths that fan her neck and wiggles ever closer, not that it’s possible.

It’s right there with your arms around her body that you wonder why you’d had any doubts to begin with and it’s in your arms that Lena sees how perfect this truly is.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @username23345 @depressed-bi-bitch @fayhar @trikruismybitch @marvel-wlw @aznblossom @chicken-wang09 @bitchtits15 @coxmicbabygirl @blackluthxr @starlingelliot @vxidnik

#lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dcu #dcu x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #reader insert #all over again

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tiredmoonslut · 3 years ago

Note

Do you think will Simon forgive August? When he realized August is the person who leaked the video?

Can I just say I absolutely love that people wanna hear my thoughts on YR 🥺 yall are the best

Okay so. Simon and August. I think August winning Simon's forgiveness can literally only be accomplished by doing some large act of redemption. I feel like being regretful and apologetic is really just...not going to fly for Simon.

I actually think Wilhelm will forgive August first. They're both part of the royal family, they're both experienced with the pressures that come with that--they've now both made decisions they regret just for the sake of that pressure--so I think Wille will be quicker to understand where August was coming from even if it did hurt him and violate his privacy.

Simon on the other hand would be much less beholden to forgive August, because Simon never gets to plead "family pressure" for his decisions and struggles. Just like when he said that he's not going to hide himself "just because the Prince fucked up", he's not going to forgive August just because he was desperate to stay afloat in the endless power struggle of being royal. There's also the added bad blood of the whole alcohol and drug dealing situation, which August has yet to fully make up for (albeit there was some progress).

More to my point, August as a character exists in the story much more for the purposes of how class affects people. Wilhelm, and August to an extent, are upper echelon. Simon is about as down and out as it goes in the eyes of a royal (war flashbacks to the repeated "socialist" insult via August). Whereas Wille's role affects Simon's romantic conflict, August's role more deeply accentuates the way Simon's economic standing affects him. It's like somebody else said on here, I don't remember who--but Simon is the one who really suffers from August leaking the video. Wilhelm, he gets to sweep it under the rug because his face wasn't even on camera. Simon has been immortalized by the media, and even if Wilhelm were to never admit that was him with Simon (which he will, c'mon now), Simon will always be seen as "the Crown Prince's sex scandal with a lower class male".

And August is to blame for alllll of that. So Simon will no doubt have a rightful amount of hatred for him, and I don't think that's going anywhere unless August really sticks his neck out for Simon somehow. And not because it would make him look good, but because he actually wants to do it. That's the only circumstance I could see Simon forgiving him in.

I honestly would be interested to see Simon never forgive him. Yknow it's kind of the expected thing to do when a character messes up--they redeem themselves and you forgive them. But I think it would be really powerful, especially for the younger side of the audience to see that decisions like the one August made are irrevocable, and that you may never be forgiven for them even if the problems they caused have passed. Not every bad action needs to be forgiven. If they spun it well, this could be a very empowering arc for Simon and for gay men like him, who have also been unjustly outed by people in power.

Alright so anyways this answer has gotten suuper long lol here you go anon thank you for your time

#asks #young royals #young royals season 2 #wilmon #wilhelm x simon #simon x wilhelm #young royals netflix #august young royals

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hepalienstuckyrecs · 4 years ago

Text

Stucky AU Fic Rec

Guiding Star by fmo @fmowrites [G, 3.1k]

Soulmates AU

Through all the chaos and coincidence of your life, a symbol will reappear: a recurring shape, or idea, or image that turns up again and again, just for you. Only you can figure out what it is; sometimes that's easy, and sometimes it's hard.

This symbol is called your Clue. And once you know what it is, it will help you know your soulmate--because your soulmate's Clue will be the same as yours.

Steve Rogers figures out his Clue pretty early on.

Moosebumps by @rohkeutta [T, 4.2k]

Modern AU, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor

Steve feels like he’s in some wild fever dream as he walks closer and says, “Hey, you all right?”

107 looks up. He looks even prettier up close, even (or especially, Steve’s mind supplies unhelpfully) with his cheeks flushed with the exercise and sweat beading on his forehead. He does look a little crazy, though.

“Huh,” 107 says, looks down Steve’s body, then up again. “I know we just met, but your dick looks like it’s getting strangled.”

The Good, The Buns, and The Dirty by @leveragehunters [T, 5.1k]

Modern AU, Humor, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Post-serum Steve

Bucky knew the apartment wasn't much to look at but, however old and rundown it might be, it was his.

His apartment. His place. His.

Unfortunately that also made the neighbour his neighbour. Bucky hadn't started out thinking that way. No, he'd originally been pretty happy about tall, blond, and built, with his sunshine smile and sparkling blue eyes, who lived down the hall. But that was before Bucky found out he was a creeper.

(AKA homonyms are important and you can never have too many double single entendres.)

more under the cut

Hotel Service by Odsbodkins [E, 5.5k]

Modern AU

"The one where Bucky is one of the reception staff in an upmarket hotel and Steve's a wealthy businessman who stays there regularly. They're involved in a heavy flirtation but neither of them have quite gotten up the courage yet to take the next step."

For the Steve/Bucky prompt fest.

Tinder Is the Night by @rohkeutta [E, 6.8k]

Modern AU, Online Dating, Humor, Post-serum Steve, Sexting, Pre-serum Bucky

It’s the quality that gets him first. The profile photo looks like it's been taken with a semi-professional camera: it's sharp and remarkably unposed compared to most people on Tinder. The guy in the photo is the size of a fucking fridge but with Marilyn Monroe’s waistline, accentuated by the way he’s standing half-twisted towards the camera.

He’s also in the process of getting arrested.

Steve, 28, it says under the photo. New York City. Some say I have an arresting personality. This photo is from my good side. The other has a shiner.

Glad to love you, Steve Rogers series by @maddiewritesstucky [E, 9.2k]

Modern AU, Stripper Bucky, Tattoos and Piercings

Steve’s first thought is that he knows this song.

His second thought is little more than a stream of expletives, as the male embodiment of Fuck Me walks out onto the stage. Although, ‘walk’ seems an entirely inappropriate word…the man struts, stalks, and all at once the frenzied reaction of the crowd makes perfect sense.

If Steve had known this was about to make an entrance, he’d have been screaming for it too.

_____

In which Steve Rogers is promised a night of highly-skilled dance performance, and gets exactly that...just not in the way he expected.

Welcome to Oblivious, Population: Two by @leveragehunters [T, 11.3k]

Modern AU, Fluff, Oblivious, Pre-serum Steve, Post-serum Bucky, Humor

Steve is a wedding photographer in need of an assistant. Bucky is unemployed and in need of a job. Sam and Natasha, in what turns out to be a successful attempt to solve both problems, arrange an introduction.

In a moment of frustrated brilliance, Bucky sets Steve on the path to incredible popularity and the two of them--and their relationship--on the path to complete obliviousness.

deep dive by @deisderium [E, 16.1k]

Modern AU, Kid Fic, Misunderstandings, Single Dad Bucky, Post-serum Steve

Bucky knew it would be hot, so he brought a bottle of water, but the sip he takes from it does absolutely nothing to quench his thirst, because the dive team coach is a fucking mountain of muscle barely contained by a pair of floral board shorts and a white tank with low-enough armholes that Bucky can see the muscles densely packed around his ribs. His arms, it must be said, are fucking huge, and Bucky can see the bronze hairs on his forearm glinting in the sunlight even from across the pool.

In which single dad Bucky Barnes has a crush on his daughter's dive team coach and thirsts awkwardly. That's it, that's the fic.

Roots Have Grown by AustinB [M, 17.3k]

Modern AU, Roommates AU, Sugar Daddy, Fluff, Mild Angst, Pre-serum Steve, Veteran Bucky, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Meet Cute, Pining, Beefy Bucky

Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building.

So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.

this is not a drive by by plutos [NR (I’d say Mature, but only slightly), 24.5k]

Modern AU, Kid Fic, Slow Build, Single Dad Bucky, Veteran Bucky

"God, he can’t stop smiling, and it must be infectious because a slow grin is stretching across Steve’s face, and now he’s the one looking at Bucky from up under his eyelashes and asking, “How have we not met before?”

And, really, that’s the question isn’t it."

Otherwise known as: The Bucky Barnes Hot Dad AU or The One Where Steve Crashes All Of Bucky's Dates Without Really Trying

[Now with an amazing podfic!]

a long way from the playground by tesselated [E, 27.4k]

Modern AU, Fake Relationship, Pre-serum Steve, Jewish Bucky

“Actually, I am dating someone.” He says.

What ends up happening is, he says the first name that comes to mind.

What ends up happening is, he blurts out, “Steve Rogers.”

Without thinking, obviously. Because if he had been thinking, he would have thought of something better than this.

And that's how Bucky ends up bringing Steve as a date to his sister's wedding.

it takes a lot to know a man by @steebadore, art by @kittyandmulder [E, 39k]

Modern AU, Pre-serum Steve, Veteran Bucky

Bucky flips to the next page, and the world around him grinds to a halt as his brain struggles to process what he's seeing. The noise of the train fades and static fills the inside of his head as he looks down at the sketches of the metal-armed guy without the mask. It's—that's him. It's Bucky's own goddamn face staring back at him from this stranger's sketchbook.

"What the fuck."

(Or, as I like to refer to it: two absolute disasters figure out how to use their words and touch mouth parts.)

Written for the 2019 Captain America Reverse Big Bang

Casual Encounters by @morethanslightly [E, 66.6k]

Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Humor, Friends With Benefits, Pre-serum Steve

“You have never once been careful in your entire life.” Bucky huffs out a laugh. He looks away. “Maybe I’m offended you didn’t think to ask me.” He says it like a joke, but he can’t bring himself to laugh again.

“Bucky,” Steve says, scandalized. “You’re my friend. I’m not gonna use you to experiment sexually.”

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stevebucky #stevebucky fic rec #reclist #alternate universe #au

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carelessannie · 4 years ago

Text

maybe it goes like this: steve builds his pack (part 3)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Read on A03

Read the Tony courts Peter wip

Stuckony (focus), Stony, Winteriron, Stucky

A finale to the sweet, slightly angsty backstory in three parts (ending in Stuckony).

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Dirty dancing, Steve’s got a grip on Tony’s balls

Maybe it goes like this:

Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.

This is the lie he tells himself as he sees a sweet, intimate pack sharing a day out in the city, and later, a young, familial pack with a few pups eating ice cream in the park.

He can vaguely remember his parents buying him ice cream— or maybe he had snuck ice cream out of the kitchen— and eating that alone once. He doesn’t let himself dwell on that for too long.

And being a part of a familial pack by association hasn’t been the worst. He knows worse.

It wasn’t even that his pack growing up had been that bad. Maybe a little emotionally detached, sure, but he’s old enough now to recognize it wasn’t his pack that made the mistake— it was him.

He’s the one who decided to leave after graduating college, convinced that at the mature age of eighteen that he could conquer the world by himself.

Good job, Tony. Where has that left you?

Tony smiles, remembering his dad’s words: Your mistakes are outweighed by your effort to correct them; the damage done is outweighed by your success.

From that day until his dad’s death two years later, his dad was one of his best friends.

Wow, that’s sad.

He’s thankful that his dad followed his own mantra, making up for decades of indifference with calculated companionship and counsel in the last years he had with his family.

Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.

Tony used to tell his dad everything: all of his ideas, dreams and hopes for the company. Everything, that is, except his desire for a pack. And his dad, in turn, made sure he was prepared to take over Stark Industries, and had transferred his personal assistant, Pepper Potts, to Tony once he could no longer work in the office.

After his dad’s death, things took a while to get better. He eventually reconnected with Rhodey, his college roommate from MIT. The Air Force Colonel hadn’t been in his Ado-pack out of college, thank merciful god, but they were roommates for a few years and Rhodey had always treated him like a younger brother.

He understands now why his friend was out of touch for so long— his military career took precedence until he accepted a position in New York, working in intelligence. He’s proud of Rhodey, honestly, but had always felt abandoned by his friend. And Tony was also a little bit disappointed when the older man refused to form a pack with him.

“Tony, be realistic,” Rhodey had planted his hands on his hips, giving a twenty-three year old Tony his best disappointed Colonel look, “we aren’t compatible. It would never work.”

It was a repeat argument between them, and had only escalated since Rhodey started dating Pepper a few months earlier.

It wasn’t a secret that Tony was jealous.

“I am being realistic! We’re together all the time, and it would be so easy for you guys to move into my place,” he was desperate, hoping for something he could never have.

Rhodey had sighed, “Dammit Tones. You know I don’t think this is a good idea…” but Tony had jumped on his friend’s hesitation, and eventually convinced the young mates to move in with him.

Two years later, they’re still living with him in his penthouse.

Tony feels alone, sure, but living platonically with a young familial pack is better than living by himself. Or, god forbid it, with a toxic intimate pack.

He shudders as he tightens his tie, taking a long look in the mirror, shaking off the last of his thoughts. Tonight’s a good night.

His suit is tailored perfectly— accentuating his waist and shoulders, lengthening his legs in expensive slacks, and completed with his favorite burgundy tie and gold cufflinks. Damn he looks good. With a wink he’s through the door, heading to the garage and grabbing his wallet off the counter.

He takes the Lambo, because why not and shows up only fifteen minutes late, tossing his keys to the valet and skipping up the stairs to the Met.

A few people try to talk to him on the way in, and he gives away a couple smiles, weaving through the crowd to find his friends and making his way up to the Great Hall and Balcony.

“Tony!” a familiar voice calls across the Hall, and Tony spins to find the happy couple heading his way.

“Rhodey! Pep! What a crazy party, congratulations,” he pulls both of them into a hug, giving Pepper a brief kiss on the cheek, and then, at Rhodey’s pouty-face, swooping in and giving him one too.

Pepper giggles, squeezing her fiancée’s cheek when he recoils in disgust, “Thank you, Tony. And thank you, again, for pulling the strings necessary to get this place— it’s absolutely breathtaking.”

“Hey, it was no problem,” Tony deflects, forcing his smile a little wider, “they set up the sculpture court, right? Pep, I know you’re gonna love that—”

Rhodey’s smile is back, and he laughs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “Yeah, Tones, they gave us the tour when we got here, it’s great.”

“Good, good, that’s… good.” Tony awkwardly pauses, and his friends exchange a look, Pepper winking — which is terrifying— before smiling secretly.

Both of them turn, and Rhodey motions behind him, “Hey, I’ve gotta find someone. You’ll stay put?” he gives a pointed look to Tony, disappearing before he can respond.

Pepper shakes her head affectionately, grabbing Tony’s hand as he tries to escape. He whines a bit, turning his best innocent eyes on her, “But Pep, I haven’t even had a drink yet. And he wants me to meet people.”

“Hush. You trust us, right?”

Unfortunately, yes.

“Ah, great,” Rhodey comes up to them, towing someone else. Okay, understatement. Towing a large, hunk of a man behind him, filling out his Army blues like they were designed with his body in mind. He’s young— baby faced and adorable— completely out of his depth, probably. His smile actually looks genuine, because Tony can easily see the confusion breaking through his perfectly clear complexion.

Damn, Tony wants a bite.

“Tony, I’d like you to meet my friend, Captain Steve Rogers,” Steve puts forward his hand, and Tony grasps it as Rhodey continues, “... and Steve, this is Tony Stark, my best man.”

Steve looks appropriately stunned. He places his left hand right over top of where they are still joined, and meets Tony’s gaze with a small nod, “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure.”

If Tony wasn’t so sure this man was the most dominant piece of military Alpha in the room, he’d ask the good Captain to get on his knees. And beg. Fuck. As it stands, he’s never felt this enamored and respected in an initial meeting— damn, this man knows how to make a first impression.

“Tony, please,” he corrects, smirking into Steve’s beautiful face, “and the pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

He waits for Steve to release their hands, but all he gets is a similar smirk in return. The larger man squeezes where their hands are joined, brushing his thumb over Tony’s knuckles, and leans in to murmur, “You can call me Captain all night long.”

He releases Tony from the magnetic hold on his hand, and Tony is slightly embarrassed to feel his face heat up, and clears his throat. It’s been years since someone could fluster him like this, and this man has been able to do it in seconds. Before Tony can respond, Steve adds, a little louder for the public ear, “—but just stick with Steve for now.”

“Alright, Steve— how do you know…” and as Tony goes to bring Rhodey and Pepper back into the conversation, he realizes that the couple has left without a word. Tricky bastards.

Steve doesn’t seem phased, though, and answers the question as if Tony had even bothered to finish it,

“I met Jim a year ago during my summer post in Taiwan— both of us were stationed there, doing a few months of consulting for specialized ops, and were fast friends. I swear, Jim was my only buddy over there, and he’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met,” the smile that follows his words is soft and remembering, “how about you, Tony?”

“Rhodey and I were roommates at MIT— he’s always been my big brother, and both him and Pep live with me now—”

“Oh,” Steve interrupts, “I didn’t realize you were pack, I just assumed—”

“No, definitely not,” Tony stops him, laughing to help lighten the sensitive subject, “I don’t have a pack. But if we were compatible, I think the two of them would be it for me. It just… it doesn’t work for us,”

Steve shakes his head, a serious expression falling over his features, “No, I get it, that’s personal— I shouldn’t have brought it up. Please, can I— can I grab you a drink?”

Tony resists the urge to reach out and grab his arm, to reassure Steve that there’s no harm done, but instead agrees, “Sure, yes— uh… why don’t you surprise me?”

The flirty, light smile is back, and Steve easily agrees, leaving Tony to find the open bar. He’s thankful for the time to process, easily dismissing a few guests who try to start a conversation with him.

How could Rhodey have kept this guy hidden for so long? Tony barely got a whiff of him, almost getting enough scent to determine compatibility, but not quite. How old is this guy, anyway? And Army? What is Rhodey thinking?

“Here ya go,” Steve’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and he jumps a bit, turning to see the Captain holding two glasses and wearing an unsure smile,

“Damn, Steve— warn a guy?” and he grins playfully, thankful to see Steve laugh along. Tony makes a grab for the glasses, and Steve pulls them out of his reach, laughing even harder, before handing Tony the low tumbler with dark amber liquid and a single orange peel garnishing the top.

Tony peers back up at Steve, “Old Fashioned? With—” he takes a sip.

“Bourbon,” Steve answers before Tony can, and sweet lord, this man has good taste.

Swirling the drink gently, Tony hums and closes his eyes at the taste. Just like his dad used to make.

“I’m glad you like it,” the low voice adds to the moment, and for just one second, Tony allows himself to get lost in the fantasy of drinking sweet Bourbon in his den, with a strong, blonde man by his side.

He opens his eyes to reality, “It’s perfect, Steve,” earning him a satisfied hum in return, “now tell me, what are you drinking this evening?”

“Oh, well—” Steve looks a little hesitant, holding up his larger glass for inspection, “it’s called a Tom Collins.”

“A craving for something sour, Captain?” Tony takes a step closer, sipping his drink slowly.

Steve licks his lips, “I like a good balance,” he takes a long drink of his gin, “and the orange is my favorite part.”

Tony watches his mouth move, admiring his full bottom lip as it’s tugged back by his teeth, breathing in the faint scent of Coffee and Thunderstorms, “You know what,” Tony dips his head forward, peering up at Steve through his lashes, “the orange is my favorite part as well.”

There’s a sharp clink clink clink sound, and the moment is broken between them as attention is called back to the engagement. Tony realizes, regrettably, that he’s supposed to be up front, and gives Steve one last desperate look before leaving to address the crowd.

After the party, he searches for Steve. He asks Pepper, and then Rhodey— both of whom haven’t seen Steve since their introduction earlier.

“Sorry, Tones, but if you want to see him—”

“No, no,” Tony dismisses the suggestion, “it doesn’t— don’t worry about it, it’s— I’m okay, I’m fine, alright? All good.”

Rhodey tries to protest, but Tony just ignores him, kissing Pepper goodbye as he makes a hasty retreat out of the museum. If he can get home first, maybe they won’t ask him to talk about his feelings.

---

Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.

It’s been exactly a year since Pepper and Rhodey moved out, and Stark Industries has never been stronger.

Probably because every spare moment he has is poured right back into his company.

Every. Spare. Moment.

Which is probably why Tony’s late for his best friend’s wedding.

It had been a rough night— Rhodey had insisted on staying up late to bar hop, and their small bachelor party had torn up the most cutting edge and expensive bars all throughout New York City. The downside, unfortunately, is that coming back home at 4 AM— drunk and somehow already hungover— leads to the absolute worst morning a twenty-seven year old could ask for.

So honestly, it’s not Tony’s fault that he shows up a half hour late, barely dressed in his tux, and sunglasses practically taped to his face.

His saving grace ends up being Rhodey. Again.

An assistant meets him at the door, ushering him into the dressing rooms, and tugging off his tux as he moves. He’s handed a cup with a vague order to drink, and the sunglasses are unceremoniously tugged from his face. He struggles a bit under the attention, but after a few minutes of the world’s worst smoothie, blinding light, pressing, steaming, ironing, shaving, and makeup application that will not be mentioned again— Tony is shoved into a larger room with the rest of the bridal party.

Before he can even begin to apologize, Rhodey is stepping forward,

“Tony, this is the least I owe you, brother.”

The statement alone almost has Tony in tears, and he closes the distance to pull Rhodey into a tight hug, whispering, “My body will never forgive you, Rhodey-bear.”

And the wedding goes on without a hitch from there. Pepper, as it turns out, had told Tony to arrive an hour before he even needed to be there— fully expecting him to arrive late. Because of this, he’s sober and aware when his best friends walk down the aisle. It’s a moment to remember.

Pepper looks like a queen— the Beta wears a perfectly tailored trumpet gown, trimmed with delicate lace and a scalloped neckline. Her mate cries— hell, Tony cries.

And a few hours later, he’s sitting alone at the open bar, swishing his drink and thoughtfully picking at the orange slice at the bottom of the glass. He knows he’s one of the only people avoiding the dance floor, but can’t find it in himself to join the party. Instead, he nurses his glass and silently watches his friends dance and laugh together.

“Tom Collins?”

Tony turns to the voice coming from his left, and is greeted with ice-blue eyes, the sharpest jaw known to man, and a filthy pair of lips.

“Tony, but close.”

“Tony—” his name sounds like sin coming from this man’s mouth, “wanna dance, sugar?”

“I really shouldn’t—”

“— c’mon, sweetheart. You’ve spent enough time with this drink, don’tcha think?”

His glass is stolen by this tempting man, who sets it down with a sweet smile and stands to his feet. He extends a hand, and Tony hesitates. He really shouldn’t— it’s been a long day, and he’s not exactly sober. Plus, Pepper might kill him if he makes a scene.

He takes the man’s hand, “Just one song, got it?” and all he gets is a wicked grin in response before he’s pulled off towards the dance floor.

The song playing is low— thrumming and hot. Most of the younger packs have already checked in for the night, saving their pups from the close grind of desperate bodies, scents mingling in Desire and Arousal. It takes only one sweep of the crowd to notice Pepper and Rhodey in the center, leading their guests in a sinful dance— magnetic and dangerous.

The man from the bar stops at the outer rim of the circle, pausing for a moment to strip off his tie and suit jacket. His eyes sweep over Tony’s appearance, and he steps closer, breath tickling the nape of his neck as he asks, “May I?”

Speechless, Tony nods. He’s surrounded with sweet Oranges and creamy Milk Chocolate as the Omega gently loosens his tie, pulling it over his head and folding it onto the table before slipping his hands up Tony’s shoulders, pushing underneath his jacket, and tracing his arms until the jacket falls, forgotten.

Chest to chest, the Omega looks up through his eyelashes, “Dance with me, Beta.”

Pulled closer to the center of the crowd of moving bodies, Tony keeps the man pressed against his side, then shifts to face him. He’s only an inch taller than this Omega, but the similar height works to their advantage as Tony grabs his hips, starting a slow grind that has the man in front of him clutching at his neck, his hair, and breathing out a sigh.

“Like that, baby?” Tony growls, digging his fingers into the Omega’s hips as they move together, foreheads touching, enjoying the friction and small sounds coming from his partner.

“Don’t stop, please,” Oh, begging sounds divine coming from this younger man’s lips. Tony wants to do absolutely wicked things to this guy.

They move together, the Omega shifting to follow his rhythm and relaxing under Tony’s hold as he moves his right hand higher, scratching his nails along the gentle arch of the man's back, as his left hand moves lower to firmly grip his ass. He squeezes, and the sweet Omega moans Tony into his neck.

“I’ll give you what you need, baby.”

“B— bucky,”

“Bucky?”

He gets a smile in return, along with a particularly dirty move of his hips, “My name is—”

“Bucky?”

A third voice breaks the spell, and Bucky sighs, stopping their dance and putting a bit of space between their bodies— which does absolutely nothing to hide their shared arousal.

“Whaddaya want, Stevie?”

Tony looks over his shoulder to see a hulking, blonde and horrifyingly familiar Alpha standing behind them— arms crossed and a face that screams unamused.

“I wanna know why my mate is putting on a show with—” he finally looks at Tony, and his expression blooms with shock and recognition, “— Mr. Stark. Of fucking course.”

“Language.”

“— shut up Bucky, of course you’d happen to find him of all people…”

“Well,” Bucky starts to defend, “you wouldn’t make a move, so I thought I’d get things started.”

Now Tony’s confused, “Wait, hold up,” he looks between the two men as they glare at each other, “did you… are you trying to get with me?”

The couple turns and looks at Tony like he’s an idiot, Steve gesturing at where he’s still hard in his pants, “You didn’t get that from the reenactment of Dirty Dancing a few minutes ago?”

Bucky lets out a sharp laugh, cutting through the tension, and Steve’s face practically melts at the sight and scent of HappyAmusedOmega. Tony bets his face is doing something similar as he shakes his head in protest, “You guys are really serious? Can we— can we talk somewhere… more private?”

Definitely the wrong thing to say, because Bucky practically cackles in glee, “Darlin’ you can do anything to me in private,” and Steve reaches over to smack him on the shoulder,

“Slow, Bucky,” and he earns an eye roll from his mate, “Tony, let me see your phone.”

Right now, Tony feels like putty in his hands, which is probably why he gives over his unlocked phone without a word. Bucky slings his arm around Tony’s waist, and he notices that the crowd has thinned out, music slower and without the charge from before. Steve types a few things before handing the phone back,

“I put in our numbers— Tony, if you want to see us again, for dinner or even just coffee, please text us,” Steve squeezes his shoulder, and then moves his hand to cup Tony’s elbow, pulling him— and Bucky, by consequence— in closer,

“Tony, I need you to know: you are not obliged to see us again, even though we come on a little strong. You are— we are—”

“You’re all he could talk about tonight, Tony,” Bucky cuts in, turning Tony to look into his eyes, “and maybe you’ve never given him a second thought, but he met ya last year and has been dyin’ to see ya again—”

“— Bucky—” Steve warns,

“No, sorry Alpha, but it needs to be said. Tony, I have a feelin’ the three of us are damn compatible, and it would be a waste not to try. Give us a chance, yeah?” and the silence that follows is paired with twin expressions, eager and hopeful.

“Guys, I…” Tony is tired of being alone. He’s tired of denying what he really wants.

“... I’ll text you soon, okay?”

At the startled look from Steve and whispered oh, okay Tony from Bucky, he flees. He’s a perfect Cinderella alright— too afraid of honest confessions to stick around long.

But maybe he’ll keep his promise.

---

It takes a week for Tony to text them, and he does it as a group message. Both mates seem relieved to hear from him, and set up a date for that weekend, insisting that they pick him up and pay.

It takes two weeks after that, and three more dates, for Tony to realize that they want to formally court him.

A month after they start courting Tony, he asks about their intentions.

“I’ve gotta wonder, guys— are you really that serious about building a permanent pack? Or is this just a seasonal pack for you guys while you’re getting out of the Army?”

Bucky looks hurt by this, but it’s Steve who spells it out.

“I know we’re young, Tony. I mean— you’re not even thirty, Buck is twenty-one and I’m just twenty-two. Look, I know I’m really young to be a pack Alpha. Neither of us have experience leading a pack, but… it’s been something we’ve wanted for a while. It’s the reason Buck and I haven’t bonded yet, and it’s a dream of ours to have an intimate pack to start a family with.”

He’s stunned by Steve’s words. His pack growing up definitely wasn’t intimate, and after his horrible Ado-pack, he had completely dismissed the idea of ever having something like that again. But now.

“Tony, darlin’,” Bucky reaches forward to take Tony’s hands, “I think we have something really special, here. It could take years to build our pack, but Steve is pretty sure six is our magic number. Don’t ask me why. And also,” he hesitates, looking down at his hands, "I’ve gotta tell ya somethin’ important. Two things, actually.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Tony asks, concerned, as Steve gives Bucky a nod of encouragement.

“Well, first of all,” Bucky looks back into Tony’s eyes as he continues, "Steve and I are compatible by memory. Like— when we first scented each other, a few years ago, we had a scent memory. We— we haven’t bonded because of the pack, but we will. And second,” he pauses a moment, “I’m not pack omega.”

“You’re… not?”

“No, I— I’m not a submissive, Tony. I’m Vers and swing submissive for Steve most days. But I can’t fully submit for a pack, and this means there will be a fully submissive Omega who mates with us. And gets— gets to—”

Steve cups his mate’s cheek, “Baby,”

“No, it’s. It’s fine, Stevie, I—” Bucky tries to pull out of Steve’s hold, but the tears are already falling as he rubs them away, “— I just can’t. I can’t give you pups.”

Oh. Oh. Tony did not know that.

Bucky is tucked under Steve’s arm as the Alpha continues to explain, “When we bond as a pack, if we decide to bond, it’s very likely that only the submissive pack Omega will pup for the pack Alpha. It was— hard, you know? Realizing that Buck and I can’t have a family—”

At this, Bucky buries his face in his hands and lets out a single sob,

“— but we’re willing to give that up if it means having the perfect pack, okay?”

Tony is shocked. He guesses it makes sense that the pack Alpha and Omega would be biologically directed to mate together. It seems unfair, though, that a scent compatible, soulmate pair wouldn’t be able to start a family. But—

“What about other bonded members?”

Both men look up at Tony in confusion, “What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“I mean, what if two other packmates decided to mate. Is there a chance they would pup?”

Bucky still looks confused, but Steve’s face lights up in understanding,

“You mean, what if we all bonded— would you and Bucky be able to get pregnant?”

“Wait, is it possible?” the hope in Bucky’s eyes is devastating as he looks between Alpha and Beta, gripping onto Steve’s arm with fresh tears shining on his cheeks, “could I still have pups?”

“It’s possible, Buck, but I have no idea.”

Bucky ignores Steve’s response and stands from his seat, moving quickly to Tony and straddling his lap, throwing his arms around the Beta’s neck. Tony steadies him with arms around his waist, and rocks them gently as Bucky starts to cry into his neck.

After a few minutes, Steve looking at them with overwhelming affection, Bucky’s tears run out and he sniffles into Tony’s neck, “Thank you, my Beta.”

“For what?”

The Omega pulls away, pushing Tony’s hair out of his face as his smile widens,

“Giving me hope.”

---

In May, Bucky finally graduates from West Point, and decides to work in engineering in the city. Steve has been working with Rhodey in “intelligence” for a year, and Tony finally feels happy.

They spend most of their time at Steve and Bucky’s apartment in Red Hook. Tony doesn’t mind the drive, and absolutely hates being alone in his penthouse— plus, he’s come to actually like Brooklyn. And if he spends his free time searching for the perfect spot to build a house, no one has to know.

And it works fine for now, because Steve still insists on taking it slow— although if Bucky and Tony had it their way, the three of them would already be mated. It sometimes feels like just the two of them are dating and Steve’s their chaperone, drawing boundary lines of, “Hey, clothes stay on, boys,” and, “Bucky, get off Tony’s lap, I swear to god.”

So Tony corners Steve.

Or more accurately, Steve is fixing them dinner and Tony pins him to the counter from behind, grinding up into his ass and growling.

He feels Steve stiffen beneath him, and Tony laces their fingers together where Steve’s are resting on the counter, nibbling on the back of his neck inches from his bonding spot.

“What’re you doin’ Tony.” it’s barely a question, and Tony just tightens his grip and bucks his hips forward, letting Steve feel his arousal.

Steve growls in response and turns in his arms, breaking Tony’s hold. He looks into the Alpha’s eyes, blazing red, and Steve slowly prowls forward, backing Tony into the fridge. His arms come up to frame Tony’s face as his back hits, forcing eye contact and baring his teeth in a predatory smile.

One of his hands reaches lower, gripping Tony and causing the Beta to groan at the friction, “Is there something you want, baby?” Tony shakes his head, losing the confidence from earlier, but Steve continues, “you need to use your words, Tony. I can’t help ya if you don’t tell me what you need.”

Ooo, Tony’s blood burns with the challenge, and he rocks forward into Steve’s grip, his own hands reaching forward to hold onto the Alpha’s shoulders. Steve presses in closer, and Tony licks a small stripe up his throat, stopping centimeters from his ear, “I need you, Alpha. Why can’t I have you?”

“Oh, Tony,” Steve chuckles, releasing his grip and sliding both hands around to cup Tony’s ass, pulling them closer until their fronts are pressed together, betraying Steve’s obvious interest, “you can have me all you want, baby. I just need something from you first.”

“Yes, Steve. Fucking anything.”

He’s pushed away, back hitting the fridge as Steve steps back, “Be ours. Promise it. Move in with us, and then we’ll mate.”

“Alpha,”

“Those are my terms, Beta,” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the living room, “and until then, let me finish cooking and go keep Buck company, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, and turns back to his meal while Tony stands frozen in the doorway. He can see Bucky lounging on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and pretending he hadn’t just heard their whole conversation. He sees the way Steve moves around the kitchen, natural and dominant in his home— caring and providing for his pack.

For my pack, Tony thinks to himself.

“I’m yours.”

Both sets of eyes are on him, and Steve drops everything in his hands. He sees Bucky stand up from the couch.

Steve takes a step towards him, “W— what did you say?”

“I said— I’m yours. And you’re… you’re mine. My pack,” he looks into Steve’s eyes as the taller man steps into his space, “My Alpha.”

He hears a soft exhale, and feels Bucky grab his arm. Tony turns, “and My Omega.”

“My Beta,” Bucky breathes,

Steve kisses the Omega’s cheek, smiling wide, and pulls Tony into his arms,

“Ours.”

No, Tony doesn’t miss having a pack. But here— wrapped up in between his Alpha and Omega— he’s wanted, he’s safe, and he finally belongs.

#stuckony #stony #winteriron #getting together #stucky #steve x tony x bucky #d/s fic #slight nff #fanfic #completed #bucky barnes #steve rogers #tony stark #mood board #MiGLT #omegaverse

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dejayoonw · 5 years ago

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hold tight , jjk

part 5 | make it up

word count: 4.3k

warnings: jealousy, mentions of drugs, dirty talk, praise, pet names(baby girl, little girl, pretty girl, she calls him daddy), jk has a big dick, oral (m receiving), deep throating, face fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, spanking, finger sucking, like one (1) pussy slap, he cums in her mouth

a/n: this is part five of my social media au hold tight & will probably make most sense if read along with the rest of the au.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late do we?” tugging your best friend's hand towards the door you wondered how Jungkook would react if you were to be a little late to the wedding, would you get to see him annoyed like the first time you met him just before he recognized you? You hoped you’d get to see that side of him again, liking it more than you cared to admit. Pushing your thoughts to the back of your mind you got into the passenger seat of Tae’s Bentley, it was his proudest possession to date. You were happy that your best friend's hard work had paid off enough that he could afford something like this, plus for the two of you to live in an upscale apartment. Of course the two of you shared the rent on the place but still, you were proud of him for being so successful while doing something he loved.

Pulling up to the wedding venue you smiled to yourself as Tae pulled into the parking space next to Jungkook's car. Your smile was soon wiped off your face the second Jungkook stepped out of his car. He was wearing tight black pants that accentuated his thighs with a button up shirt tucked in, two of the top buttons undone to show off a little bit of his chest. The only disappointment was one of your favorite parts about him, his arms littered with tattoos, had been covered by his sleeves. And yet, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to be disappointed, not when he looked this good. You will yourself to stop gawking at the boy, letting your eyes meet his only to see him already looking back at you with an uncharacteristically smug look on his face. You couldn’t care less that you’d been caught, in fact you were glad he’d seen you. You threw a wink his way and turned to your friend, taking the camera he’d lent you to use for the job out of his hands. Poor Tae was doing his best to ignore his best friend eye fucking the guy he’d hired, he found himself wishing more and more that Hoseok had been available.

Throughout the wedding you made sure to focus on the job, as much as you wanted to flirt with the pretty man in the oh so tight jeans you didn’t want to mess things up for Taehyung. So you kept to your section of the venue and did as you’d been instructed. The ceremony surprisingly seemed to go by quickly though the reception was lasting a lot longer than you’d expected. You weren’t sure how many people kept the photographers around throughout the whole reception but you guessed if you had a rich daddy to pay for everything you might do the same. Just as you were about to take the fortieth picture of the bride's grandmother doing shots with yet another man in his twenties you heard your name being called.

“The groom said they’re about to move the party to one of his friends' houses, it’s just their friends. He invited us.” Taehyung told you quietly so no one would overhear. Jungkook stood next to him though his eyes were anywhere else but on you or Tae.

“So they want us to take pictures of their friends doing coke and getting fucked up?” You mumbled not exactly excited about the extra work. Jungkook snorted at your response, you couldn’t help but smile a bit, feeling proud.

“No they want us to come get fucked up with them. Or, at least I don’t think that they’re planning on doing drugs.” Taehyung seemed to be questioning whether he should even go now, worried you might be right.

“Look at them Taehyung, of course they're going to do drugs. Why should that stop us from partying like Belford? We can be The Wolves of Walmart.” Taehyung shook his head at your ridiculous joke, especially considering you probably had just as much money as any of them, but chuckled nonetheless. How the two of you had even stayed so close into your adulthood was honestly something you both wondered everyday. You two were so different. Where he worried about things like drugs and shied away from anything overly sexual you didn’t bat an eye to it. You weren’t necessarily into coke or anything hardcore like that, but you’d smoked your fair share of weed in your lifetime.

“We’ll go if you want to but if anyone offers me a line I’m leaving.” Tae said, shuddering slightly at the thought. You smiled up at your soft hearted best friend finding his caution endearing. This was why you’d been able to stay close, because the differences the two of you had always seemed to be nothing in comparison to the adoration you held for each other, platonically of course. Once upon a time you might’ve harbored a crush for your introverted, modest friend but then he came out to you in tenth grade and you quickly got over those feelings. Besides, you were more into the bad boy type anyways.

“Are you coming too, Jungkookie?” You asked looking up at him through your eyelashes, eyes opening just a little wider. How could Jungkook say no to you when you looked at him like that? As much as your relentless teasing made him feel like he might have an aneurysm, he couldn’t resist spending more time with you. It felt weird not having you messing with him today, so maybe you’d talk to him at the party. This was probably the last time you’d see each other anyways, he should make it count.

“I’ll go for a bit.” The cute little smile that took over your face was enough to rid Jungkook of any second thoughts he might’ve had. Jungkook saw you as this powerful intimidatingly sexy woman who somehow still emitted the cutest energy. How would he ever survive tonight with you switching back and forth so drastically?

It didn’t seem to be a concern once the three of you got to the party. Ever since you walked through the door you’d been swarmed by multiple people. It was one after the other, even if Jungkook had worked up the courage to talk to you he’d never get the chance to. So he sulked on the couch, squished in between a couple engulfing each other and the arm of the couch. He’d lost Taehyung a while ago, though Jungkook figured he’d found someone for himself.

You loved your viewers, well most of them, there were definitely a few on the weirder side that occasionally took things too far, but overall you loved them, you were so thankful to them. It was times like these though, that you wished your job wasn’t so public. You’d been stuck in the same spot for the last hour, person after person had come up to you to ask if you were Honey from onlyfans. You hated that you sounded so snobby in your head but you really just wanted to talk with people normally tonight, you were there to have fun after all. Not that talking with your viewers wasn’t fun, you just really wished it didn’t feel like work sometimes. You’d zoned out on the guy next to you who had been telling you all of his favorite videos of yours in great detail. Your eyes found Jungkook across the room, a strong pout on his lips as he played on his phone. You tilted your head slightly wondering what had him so upset and why he wasn’t enjoying himself.

“Yuta, dude, leave that poor girl alone. Sorry Honey, he doesn’t know how to shut up sometimes.” One of the girls, who’d earlier introduced herself to you as Sorn, said trying to save you from her friend. Honestly Yuta wasn’t bothering you, it was just that he’d been rambling for the last 10 minutes and you would much rather be figuring out what’s going on with Jungkook right now. You smiled over at Sorn silently thanking her.

“It’s no problem, I think it’s sweet that you enjoy my content so much Yuta. I do think I'm going to go check on my friend though, again, it was nice talking to both of you.” You said, smiling sweetly at Yuta while winking at both of them before making your escape to Jungkook. You say yourself on the arm of the couch he was sitting on, catching his attention right away. You couldn’t help but notice the annoyed look on his face when he looked up at you.

“Why are you pouting over here all by yourself?” You asked him trying not to laugh at how obvious it was that he was struggling not to look at your legs that you’d draped over his own.

“Not all of us have a fan club everywhere we go to keep us entertained.” Jungkooks sharp tone had caught you off guard and shamefully sent a wave of head down to the pit of your stomach, but maybe that was the drink you’d been nursing since you’d gotten here. You weren’t sure why you found yourself wanting to make it up to Jungkook, you hadn’t done anything wrong. It’s not like the two of you came together or anything. Yet here you were, giving him your best apologetic eyes, with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Jungkookie, I didn’t mean to make you jealous.” You said quietly, hoping he wouldn’t think you were still teasing him. Jungkook didn’t know where this shift in attitude came from but he could swear he’d seen this look somewhere before.

“I’m not jealous, what do I have to be jealous over?” He didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or you but it was clear neither of you were buying it. You didn’t push it though, you didn’t know why you felt so compelled to make things right with him. Maybe it was just instinct because you were admittedly attracted to him and you tend to submit to the people in your life who you connected with physically.

“But still, we’re friends and I let you sit over here alone while I talked to a bunch of people. I should’ve stayed with you. Let me make it up to you?” There was no way in hell Jungkook was reading this right. You were sat with your legs draped across his lap, your fingertips grazing his shoulder and every so often they’d brush his neck just slightly, but there was no way you were saying what he thinks you’re saying.

“What, um, what do you mean?” He asked, avoiding your intense gaze.

“Anything you want, name it and I’ll do it.” How was this happening? Jungkook had to be reading it wrong. But, what else could you mean? His mind was racing so fast, he felt himself freaking out. Before he even thought about it Jungkook was mumbling something about finding a bathroom and stumbling off away from you. Jungkook wasn’t even sure how he found the bathroom, but all he knew is he needed water, now.

Splashing some of the water onto his face Jungkook attempted to calm himself down. Why had he gotten so freaked out? This wasn’t like him, normally he was good at getting people he was interested in, man or woman. Why did you make him so nervous? Just because he’d seen you naked before didn’t mean you’re any different from the people he’d slept with before. Except you were, he hadn’t slept with you. He’d just seen some pictures and maybe a video or two(or fifty) of you. He’d fantasized about you without even knowing you and now he knew you, kind of. He felt creepy. Why did he though? You posted that stuff for people like him to look at, you made it clear that you knew he’d seen your stuff and you didn’t act like you felt weird about it. In fact, you acted like you liked it. So why was he hiding in the bathroom? You’d basically just offered to fulfill all the fantasies he’d had about you. He had never been one to run from that kind of offer before, at least not from someone as beautiful as you.

The more Jungkook thought the more he hated himself from most likely missing his chance with you. How many of your viewers could say they’d had this opportunity? He didn’t know, but the answer was none. You’d made it a rule a long time ago not to sleep with any of your viewers. There was just something about Jungkook, which is why you’d made your way outside the bathroom to apologize for freaking him out. You weren’t sure why you thought he’d wanted to sleep with you in the first place. Sure you knew he’d seen your stuff online but that didn’t mean anything. Jungkook didn’t see you at first when he opened the door but when you’d called out his name he was glad to see you.

“I’m sorry I forced myself on you like that, I think I just read the signs wrong. I got carried away because I think you’re really attractive and, I don’t know, I’m sorry.” You kept your eyes on your hands folded in front of you. You had this pitiful look on your face like you were ashamed of yourself. Jungkook was disgusted with how hot he found it. Why did literally everything about you turn him on? More importantly why hadn’t he jumped at the opportunity to act on it when he first noticed that you were willing. Yoongi would’ve called Jungkook a little bitch if he’d seen the way he’d been acting around you.

“Shut up and get in the bathroom.” Your eyes went wide as you checked to make sure it was actually Jungkook’s mouth those words came out of. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the stern look on his face. Where had this come from? Where had he been hiding this side? You knew if you walked in that bathroom you’d be getting exactly what you’d silently(and not so silently) been begging for since you met Jungkook. He didn’t want to push you, but he couldn’t deny the excitement he felt when you rushed past him into the bathroom.

“If you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.” You told Jungkook when he shut the two of you in the small bathroom. You wanted to give him the opportunity to leave before anything happened. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel pressured.

“I can assure you babygirl, I want nothing more than to show you just how much I want this.” Before you could process his words Jungkook's lips were on yours, kissing you like a man starved. His lips were soft and he wasted no time being gentle, sliding his hands in your hair and tugging your head back further to give him better access as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Then, before you could get used to the feeling of his mouth on yours, his lips left yours and attacked the skin on your neck. Sucking, nibbling, and licking as he tried to find your sweet spot. Your fingers were desperate to cling onto something, moving from his back up to the base of his neck you raked your fingers through his hair as his mouth worked wonders on your neck. You were a whimpering mess as he left little marks all over your neck. Jungkook smiled at the sweet sounds leaving your lips, feeling proud of himself for getting this kind of reaction without even really doing anything. You could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties and you ached for some kind of relief. You involuntarily pushed your hips into his, feeling his already forming bulge causing both of you to moan at the sudden contact.

“You better keep your hands to yourself if you want this to go well for you, little girl.” You had to stop yourself from moaning out loud at his words. Jungkooks grip on your hips was tight enough that you’d probably bruise but all you could feel was pleasure.

“Kookie please,” You begged, dropping down to your knees in front of him, taking his large hands in yours. “wanna make it up to you.”

You wouldn’t continue without his explicit permission, so you gazed up at him with wide eyes. How could Jungkook say no when the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen was on her knees in front of him begging to suck his cock?

“Go ahead baby girl, show me what that pretty mouth can do.” He said letting his hand fall to the back of your head gently. His cock was practically screaming to be let out of the tight confidments of his jeans. As you cautiously undid the zipper and button and pulled both his jeans and his underwear down at once Jungkook let out a soft noise at the relief. You gawked at his size, he was probably the biggest you’d ever had, prettiest too. Your mouth was watering at the sight, he was perfect.

Looking up at him you were stunned again by the beauty that is Jeon Jungkook. Staring down at you with his mouth agape he brought his hand to your jaw, swiping his thumb along your bottom lip. Keeping your gaze locked with his you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out just slightly, licking at the pad of his thumb. Jungkook groaned slightly as he finally guided his cock into your mouth, watching you close your lips around the head and started slowly bobbing your head up and down his shaft. You began to use your tongue as you quickened your pace. Jungkook was mostly silent but you could tell he was enjoying himself when he tightened his grip on your hair every time you took him deeper.

You began to use your hands a bit, causing a moan to leave his lips at the feeling. You then took his cock deeper, finally making him buck his hips forward, hitting the back of your throat. Rolling your eyes back you pushed your head down further on his cock hoping he’d get the hint. Thankfully he did, tangling his hand in your hair to hold your head still, he bucked his hips again, harder this time, shoving his cock even farther than before. He repeated the motion, fucking your face until you had to tap out.

Pulling off of his dick with a pop, you were gasping for air, your chin covered in saliva and your hair was a mess, you looked perfect. Quickly Jungkook pulled you up by your arms needing to feel your lips on his again. Your pretty little hands snaked their way up Jungkook's shirt, feeling his abs as he kissed you. How that simple action affected him so much Jungkook didn’t know, but he did know he was in for it. Sex before didn’t come close to how it felt with you and he hadn’t even fucked you yet, how was he ever supposed to have sex again with a random girl knowing it could be this good with you?

You lightly traced Jungkook’s abs letting your hand slowly fall down to his cock, pumping it in hopes of getting what you wanted. Jungkook kissed you a little harder making you moan and rub your thighs together for some relief. Needing to feel you Jungkook pulled your hand off him and roughly turned you around, pushing you against the bathroom counter. You whined at the feeling of his hard cock against your ass.

“You’ve been such a good girl baby, sucking my cock so well. Feel how hard you made me?” He whispered, his raspy voice sending more heat to your dripping core. His arms wrapped around your waist, his hand cupping your clothed pussy making you whine out. “Want to be my good girl? Want me to fill up this pretty little pussy?

“Please.” You begged, wanting nothing more than to be his good girl. Jungkook pulled your dress up over your ass, yanking your soaked panties down letting them fall to your ankles. His hands gripped your ass as he admired the pretty sight for a moment before he dipped one finger into your entrance almost groaning at how tight and wet you were.

“Fuck babygirl, who did this to you? You’re soaked.” He teased, adding another finger to stretch you out enough for his cock. You let your head fall forward, loving the feeling of Jungkook's fingers pumping in and out of you. Then suddenly he pulled them out and slapped your aching pussy causing you to yelp. “I asked you a question, pretty girl.”

“You did.” You whined out, pushing your ass back into Jungkook's hips, needing some relief. Thankfully he shoved both fingers back in, feeling satisfied with your answer. But he wasn’t done teasing you.

“Are you sure it’s only for me? Not all those other people you were ignoring me for?” He asked, curling his fingers up and hitting your g-spot.

“No, fuck,” You moaned as he continuously hit that spot, you were so close. “It’s only for you, daddy.”

Jungkook groaned at the nickname, he’d never cared much for it but something about the way you said it made his dick twitch. He pulled his soaked fingers from your pussy ignoring the whine you let out in protest. He spread your juices all over his cock before lining the head at your entrance. Both of you let out gasps of air and soft moans as he slid his cock into you.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good.” All you could manage to reply with was moans of agreement as he bottomed out. Both of you needed a moment to not cum right away. The feeling was too good. Needing him to move you ground your hips into his making him groan out a sweet sound as he gripped your hips tightly to stop you. Before you could beg him to move he had pulled back almost all the way out and slammed his hips back in forcefully. Your head fell forward as he repeated the action at a fast pace. His hands left your hips to squeeze your ass, letting one hand fall down to spank you, surely leaving a handprint.

Needing to get deeper Jungkook pulled your leg up onto the counter, gripping at your thigh tightly. You moaned at how deep he was getting now, knowing it wouldn’t be long before you were coming apart. Jungkook shushed you letting his free hand wrap around to shove two of his fingers into your mouth to silence your loud moans.

“You’re doing so good for me pretty girl but I need you to be quiet okay? We don’t want to get caught, do we?” The thought of someone catching the two of you had you clenching around Jungkook's cock, making his hips sputter for a moment. “Oh you like that idea? The thought of someone finding out what a slut you are for your daddy?”

Jungkook's hand left your thigh and immediately found your clit, rubbing at a fast pace to match the way he was pounding into you. You moaned loudly around his fingers, biting down on them lightly causing a hiss to leave his lips. Your leg that had been holding you up was starting to feel like jello but you ignored it as you came undone all over Jungkook's cock, clenching and shaking in his hands. He held out, fucking you through your orgasm until you let your leg down so you could hold youself up. Jungkook quickly pulled out ready to cum on your back until you dropped to your knees and opened your mouth wide. Moaning at the sight Jungkook let his load spill all over your tongue only getting a little bit on your lips. You kept your eyes on his as you gathered his cum on your fingers and popped them in your mouth making sure you got every last drop. After you swallowed you opened your mouth to show him, making him smile down at you, grazing your cheek with his thumb.

“Did I do good?” You asked softly, still staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You did amazing baby girl.” He told you, pulling you up to stand. He chuckled and held you still when you wobbled slightly still not fully able to stand on your own. Crouching down, Jungkook pulled your panties up your legs for you and let your dress back down.

“Thank you, daddy.” You told him, partly teasing and partly serious. He rolled his eyes and smirked at your words placing a soft kiss on your cheek. The moment was interrupted by a banging on the door, making you two jump apart.

“Yo, are you two idiots not done yet?”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #hold tight #dejayoon #bts social media au #jungkook social media au #bts au #jungkook au #bts sm au #jungkook sm au #bts fake texts

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yyxy-seph · 4 years ago

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Post Insane! Sephiroth X Black girl! Reader

𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 pt.1

Part 2

Part 3

Warning: SUPER fucking cheesy! And I’m a relatively new FFVII fan so some of my wordings might be kind of weird. But if you want more content like this from me, just hit the heart!

Also, I’ve changed some of the events in the storyline. Avalanche hasn’t attacked Shinra just yet! But Sephiroth has already had his insane streak.

Context: Zack & Cloud set Y/N up on a blind date w/ Seph! Here, we will discover an interesting history between Seph and the reader as well as witness their adorable date!

————-

“Y/N, come here.” Zack ordered once more. I let out another sigh of frustration at how he had set me up on a blind date with no warning.

He said that he was tired of watching me worry over the thought of not being able to find a fine man, get married, and have kids as a SOLDIER.

So he set me up on a blind date with a tiny bit of input from Cloud. I know right? As if he really cares about stuff like this. But Cloud has been acting really strange about it and it kinda upsets me how they’re making plans without my input.

Before I left the SOLDIER territory, Cloud showed up just to tease me. On my way out he said “He’ll never be just a memory to you, you love him too much.”

What does that even mean? He also said that this guy I’d be meeting is a pretty, popular ex- SOLDIER.

Zack told me not to lift one finger in preparation for the date since he was planning it all. He even picked my outfit.

A little black dress with a turtleneck, low slit in the front, and cinched waist. It also had silver buttons and bows along the back. The heels were probably the most interesting part though.

They were gladiator-style, thigh-high sandals with a chunky heel. But, they weren’t just ordinary heels. They had a shuriken intruding in the back that could also be used during battle. How stylish!

I gotta give it to Zack. He could be a part-time stylist. He even called the shoes “cute and dangerous”.

He entered my view with his regular gleam in his eyes.

“I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s just your type-badass, first-class...well, former SOLDIER, long hair, certainly committed, and kinda fucking crazy-“

“I’m not sure if that description helped much for my worries.” I cut him off.

He laughed nervously but continued, reassuring me it’d be ok.

“But no really, you’re just his type too! Pretty, curvy, great fighter, determined. He really likes bad girls, and to me, you’re pretty damn bad on the field. You can fight your ass off! Proves why you’re first-class!”

A smile spread across my face.

“That’s very sweet of you, Zack. That’s why you’re my best friend!”

He beamed in return. “No problem. But one more thing before you go in.” He said more seriously.

“Okay...”

“If he goes bat-shit crazy again and tries to hurt you, yell for me as loud as you can. Promise me.”

“Again?? And I can handle myself, Zack.”

“I know you can! Just promise me.” He said, holding my hands and tightening his grip.

“Fine. I promise.”

“Now go blow his mind with those mako-infused eyes!”

I chuckled at his words and went into the room, one step at a time in my heels.

It was a restaurant. The walls were painted the vermillion shade of red. Black stripes were also painted in certain spots, accentuating a romantic vibe.

“Where is he, where is he?” I asked myself with each step. I was starting to get nervous. All those years of fighting off countless enemies and this is what has me the most anxious and uncomfortable.

Just then, I spotted a man sitting by himself as if he was waiting on someone to join. He had silver locks from what I could see but his head was turned to the kitchen of the restaurant so his face remained mysterious.

I sat down on the empty seat in front of him, curious to meet this man.

He turned his head swiftly, to the sound of me placing my hands on the glass table.

“Hey- SEPHIROTH??”

His cutely shaped lips rose in attraction.

“Hello, princess.” He responded.

I was completely and utterly shocked. Sephiroth, the best warrior in Shinra. The guy who lost his mind and caused the Nibelheim incident. The guy who is somehow still good looking to me even after all the fucked up shit he did. The silver haired man of my dreams who broke my heart when I was younger.

Even though we’ve had little to do with each other in the past, he still meant a lot to me until he faded from my mind. That is, after he went insane.

He liked me, I liked him. It was evident. We were young and in the SOLDIER program. He took up my mental space rather than training. I liked him that much. But he was more focused on his training and never considered dating. He just thought I was a pretty face and that we’d be nothing more.

He worked his way up to first class through his amazing fighting ability while I stayed behind due to my lack of interest. Fighting was just a thing to do. It was never too important to me.

The night before the Nibelheim incident, we shared a kiss. He snuck to my dorm out of curiosity (and desperation due to his previous conversation with Genesis), it seemed. He said, “ if we were to have a relationship, I need to have a good fighter and a good kisser. If you fail at one thing, you must perfect the other. Otherwise, we never know what could be.”

I sat up on my bed and pressed my lips against his. He leaned in more, deepening it. Soon, we were making out. Until, we weren’t.

He just left after that. No words were spoken. He just slid on his coat and left.

The next night, he’d lost his mind. And once the word had spread that this happened, my heart was instantly broken.

I thought things like, ‘Why would he do such a thing?’, ‘He didn’t love me.’, ‘I would’ve been there for him through all this chaos’, ‘He just played with my emotions and used me’, ‘He didn’t like the kiss’, and so on.

With my new wound, I decided to nurture it by taking my frustrations out during training. I trained as hard as I could, making my way up to first class. Everyone was shocked, especially Cloud. He thought he’d never see the day that I took training seriously.

But here I am. And now I’m in front of my past love, Sephiroth, who never seemed to care about me and... now does? Why did Zack set me up like this?

“I-I can’t believe I’m on this date with you right now.” I admitted with crossed arms and growing hatred.

His green cat-like eyes sparkled under the florescent lights. “Sure, you can’t. But you are. And there’s no turning back now.”

“Oh, yes there is.” I shot back while getting up.

He leaned forward over the table and laid his hand on top of mine, grasping it in his clutch. “I left you...and I’m sorry for that, but I’m not letting you leave.”

He flashed another attractive glare while more of his long hair fell over his shoulder, revealing once more that it was him.

Uh, I hate myself for still thinking he’s handsome.

“Why should I stay?” I asked, half-way giving in already.

“Because I won’t hurt you like I did before.”

I sighed, still being disappointed.

“Tuh, it’s only a matter of time before you’re blowing my head off or impaling me with your masamune.”

“Baby, I would never, never you.” He stated with promising eyes.

The nickname caught me off guard, making me fall a bit more for him.

“Just sit down and I’ll tell you everything. I swear. The truth and nothing but.”

I gazed down at his hand, still caressing mine, and back up at his green eyes.

I can’t believe I’m giving into this.

“Start talking.”

He began while I sat back down.

“I never meant to hurt you, really. I just didn’t intend to be in a relationship at that time or do the things I did the next night.”

“Why did you get my hopes up that night then?” I questioned, still being defensive.

“I-I just c-couldn’t control myself. I didn’t know how I felt about you. But now I do.”

“And now I’m supposed to sit here and take you back just like that? What about how I feel?” I replied and continued.

“Will you be able to control yourself if I piss you off one day, or is that the old Seph?” How do I know you’re telling me the truth and not just using me again?”

“Y/N, I don’t expect you to believe me or take me back but just hear me out.”

“I’m waiting...”

“The night I found out the entirety of my origins, I just couldn’t deal. I’d been lied to my whole life so far and had a deep feel for anger and assassination. I hated Shinra, I hated everything. My mind had gone elsewhere and that wasn’t me. I’ve calmed down and found the real reason for my existence. And that’s being a great SOLDIER, saving the planet, being the fine man you wanted, and giving you the world.”

Not gonna lie, his words were really touching. I could see the sincerity in him. But I still wasn’t ready to give in just yet.

“It’s that easy?” I asked.

“It’s only that easy if you show me the way. I need you. I want you.”

More silence and confliction rolled through me as I started realizing he might be telling the truth.

#ffvii sephiroth #ffvii #ffvii x reader #sephiroth x reader #black reader #yyxy-seph

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cotncandyboifics · 4 years ago

Text

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,987

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: I hated writing this chapter because I love Logince and I'm intentionally writing this story so that Logince doesn't work and I just- my heart and my creativity have a conflict of interests here :')

...

Roman was left alone in his room, staring at the door where Virgil had slipped out silently a few minutes ago. He'd turned off his music, and was sitting up, staring, thinking.

What was even the point of asking Logan out? I didn't have any interest in him before, he was just a nerd who i never bothered, and he never bothered me... perhaps for the challenge? when I saw him in class today something just sparked, and i felt the need to pursue him. I didn't think he'd entertain it, especially so quickly. And what of Virgil?

What of Virgil?

Roman shook his head and stood, leaving his room to see what his parents were doing, and if he could help with dinner. He needed a distraction, and he knew homework wasn't going to do it.

...

The next few days at school were strange, to say the least.

Patton was the same, as far as the others could see. He tried figuring out some of the routes Logan took to different classes, just a few so as not to seem suspicious, but Roman was more often than not already there and bombarding Logan with his charms. Patton still caught him alone sometimes though, and did his best to make conversation about little things, just wanting to get to know Logan. They had an engaging conversation about Logan's surprisingly extensive knowledge about drug abuse, and Patton was thankful for the bits of advice he could get. They'd also run through proper methods for caring for various species of turtles.

Logan continued to hound himself about why he had accepted Roman's courting after such a short time knowing him, let alone that they were very... different people, to say the least. He'd told his father that one of his friends had requested an outing to a cafe to study for an upcoming calculus quiz. His father was reluctant but upon Logan's presentation of evidence of such atmospheres increasing the effectiveness of studying and concentration, his father granted him permission to go. Logan knew his father would never permit any,, frivolous activities, when Logan had so much academic potential. And Logan made himself feel the same way, acquiring knowledge and more importantly incredible accolades was all that mattered until he was out of school. And yet, here he was, about to go on a date behind his parents' back with a jock, very stereotypical of a teen and yet very atypical for him. He couldn't explain to himself why he'd allowed himself to get into this situation, but it wasn't causing any immediate problems, so he decided to try and let the topic rest.

Virgil was acting stranger than ever, at least from Roman's perspective. He seemed even more cold and distant, except on occasion he'd strike up a conversation. Sometimes they got rather lively, debating about which were the best Disney movies, even if they had very... differing perspectives on what messages they portrayed. Roman was baffled, Because he didn't think someone who was previously unconcerned with Roman for the most part could become so black-and-white, switching between completely ignoring and/or glaring at him, and coming into a room and immediately proposing a topic of conversation.

Roman had his hands full with courting his new love interest, and trying to figure out what was going on with Virgil. Virgil himself was very conflicted. Any time he saw Roman, his feelings became intense and he never knew how to act.

The group's dynamic had shifted accordingly whenever they were in class together. In Biology, Logan was usually hard at work on their report, Patton doing his best to help. Roman often attempting to fluster Logan in any possible way he could, and Virgil, ever unpredictable.

...

Finally Thursday came, and Roman got into his mustang to pick up his date. He drove quietly up to a large white house, with a very systematic garden laid out in the front. He got out and leaned against the closed passenger door, and messaged Logan, letting him know he was there to pick him up.

Logan had hoped Roman would have the sense to pick him up around the block, but upon exiting his house and seeing him directly in front of the house leaning against his red mustang with a single red rose in his hand, Logan brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and massaged it, trying to keep from getting aggravated before their date even began. He walked over slowly, trying to keep an open mind instead of letting his logical self shut everything about Roman's love language down.

Roman had to keep himself from staring. Logan was dressed... well, typically his own style, but... he had gelled his hair back so it became one big dark tuft instead of it's usual gentle messiness, and he had on a silk navy button up and a black bowtie instead of his trademark necktie. He had on Black corduroy pants that accentuated his slender legs, and white and blue converse that complemented his shirt and pale skin. Roman was impressed at the attention to detail yet the simplicity of his date's outfit, and was indeed that much more attracted to him.

"Well hello there," Roman said as Logan neared, looking him up and down, "don't you look ravishing."

Logan's cheeks glazed a bit. "As do you," was all he could think to reply. Roman had on a dark red v neck and a black and gold baseball jacket, dark grey ripped skinny jeans with a silver chain, and red checkered vans. Logan realized he'd let his eyes linger on Roman's exposed collarbone a moment too long. God, why am i acting like this?

Roman just smirked and stood aside, opening the passenger door he'd been leaning on and making way for Logan. Logan sat, his knees nearly touching the dash. Roman got on one knee and dramatically presented Logan with the flower. Logan smiled gently and took it, examining it. Roman shut the door and made his way around to the driver's side and got in.

"Will you relay the whereabouts of our destination or will it remain a mystery to me?" Logan asked as Roman opened his door, not looking up from the flower.

Roman smiled with a glint in his eyes. "Well it would be no fun if i were to spoil the surprise, now would it?" He put the key in the ignition and started the car, and the engine hummed smoothly to life. "Completely unrelated to said surprise, but have you had dinner?" Roman rolled down his window and rested his forearm on it.

"Yes, unfortunately I follow a strict meal plan." He adjusted his glasses.

"Well, i wont question that, but that works for me." Roman left it at that and pulled out his phone.

"Would you happen to have a music preference?" Roman asked as Logan smelled the rose, and finally set it down in his lap.

After a moment of thought, Logan replied, "Well I suppose not. I don't listen to much music other than classical on occasion, and at this point i find it rather..."

"Boring?" Roman mused.

"Insufferable," Logan smiled.

"Alright, I'll enlighten you to something other than Beethoven and Bach," Roman reached for the aux chord, plugged his phone into it, and picked a particular song he felt was... fitting for the moment. The song intro began, and Roman pulled the e-break down and shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road.

he said "let's get out of this town,

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds..."

I thought "heaven can't help me now,"

Nothing lasts forever...

Logan watched things pass on the road, absentmindedly tapping his ankle to the beat. He didn't recognize the area of town they were heading to, but he didn't expect Roman to kidnap him or anything, so he just observed.

But this is gonna take me down

He's so tall, and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well.

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

Logan looked straight ahead at the road now, wondering if Roman had selected this specific song for any reason.

Say youll remember me,

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah, hah...

They were driving up a hill now, and the road was getting steeper. Logan was beginning to wonder if he should have just rejected Roman from the beginning.

Roman sensed his unease, and turned the music down so that it was just background noise. "I promise I'm not about to murder you in the woods," he said with a small laugh, "There's just a nice spot up here to... observe," he assured vaguely, glancing at Logan.

He nodded with a small smile from the passenger seat, returning to looking around as they passed sloping driveways and mossy-trunked trees.

Just moments later, they emerged into something of a clearing, with a cul-de-sac and a large meadow. There were clusters of small flowers and clovers all over, and the trees cleared perfectly to display the sun was crawling toward the horizon.

They parked and Logan got out, and turned to realize Roman was still in the car, seemingly reaching behind his seat awkwardly and rummaging around. He emerged with a plastic bag and a rolled up plaid blanket. Roman locked the car and led them to the meadow, where he dramatically unrolled the blanket and laid it out, after ruffling it in the wind. Logan sat cross-legged facing what would soon become the sunset, the bottom of the sun's visible sphere nearly dipping itself below the horizon.

Roman sat as well, beginning to dig through the mystery bag, Logan now paying him attention. Roman pulled out two large paper cups, with plastic tops and straws in them. He handed Logan one of the cups, and Logan began inspecting it. It appeared to be a milkshake, likely chocolate flavored due to the brown hue... It looked rather delightful. Logan took a sip and was not disappointed; he'd never actually had a milkshake, at least not since he was very young, so he had to attempt to hide his enjoyment.

"That is quite tasteful," He looked back to Roman, who was tasting his own milkshake.

"Yeah, you struck me as a chocolate type," he leaned back on one hand. "Hope you like the view. I thought it would be nice as a first date to watch the sunset and talk."

Logan gazed out at the sky that faded from blue to purple to red to orange and a bit of yellow, clouds peppered around and absorbing the hues. He certainly did appreciate the view.

"Alright, let's talk then."

...

A few hours later, it had gotten dark and stars were spattered across the sky. Logan was laying with his hands behind his head, watching the sky, and Roman was laid next to him, leaning up on his side and watching Logan's eyes. They'd talked about anything, from childhood memories to opinions and briefly about their home lives. Roman felt very... usual. Everything was going perfectly, and he could feel that fact slamming against his chest. Do I actually like him or is this all just a game to me? Am i being fake, or completely real?

Soon Logan checked his wristwatch and informed Roman it was time he be heading home. They stood, and Logan shivered as Roman collected the blanket. He sighed upon seeing Logan's arms loosely held around himself, trying to keep warm.

Roman rustled his baseball jacket off and draped it over Logan's shoulders.

They made their way back to the car, and as Roman drove them, all Logan could do was lean his head on the window and stare up at the hazy white moon.

Roman dropped him off, walking him up to his door. Logan thanked him for the evening, and tried to return Roman's jacket, but Roman insisted he hold onto it. They shared a small kiss on the doorstep, and bid each other goodnight. Roman drove off into the night, pondering heavily.

#ts logan #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts patton #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #high school au #slow burn #prinxiety #logicality #patton x logan #roman x virgil

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