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little-fics · 3 years ago

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Curiosity Killed the Cat

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Request summary: you are not happy about your daddies new way of keeping track of you, but maybe you could warm up to the idea of it

Warnings: Age regression; pacifier mention; sort of leashes but its like a baby leash connected to a backpack; baby has hurt feelings; I could have missed something so please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I really hope you like it nonnie, I really enjoyed writing it. love you buggy boos <3

You wanted to look at everything not matter where you went with your daddies. At the park it was every dog, every leaf. At the store it was every fluffy thing you could find, every piece of candy or toy. If you saw something you wanted to look at, you were gone. Steve and Bucky had discussed their options after the fifth time you'd run off from them. It wasn't that they didn't want you to look, but you're their baby and you needed one of your daddies to go with you. The problem with that? You forgot in your excitement; a lot.

That's how you've found yourself in this predicament.

You were ready to go to the zoo, tattered thigh jean shorts and a pretty tie-dye shirt with SpongeBob's crew with cute purple shoes. You were bouncing on your heels at the door, waiting impatiently on your daddies. You know better than to go out the door and wait for them by the car, so you're whining, rushing your daddies.

"Papaaaa, it's time to go! We not gonna get to see eb'ryfin'!" Steve came rounding the corner, Bucky trailing right behind him with a lavender backpack in his hand that seemed a little full. Steve picked you up, balancing you on his hip, "We're almost ready little one," he wiggled his finger on your tummy, "we just want to show you something before we go." Bucky held the backpack up, smiling innocently.

It was so cute, it was a shade lighter than your shoes to match perfectly. It was plain, other than the pins and small keychain fidget toys your daddies had surely put on. He opened it up and it had a coloring book, a pack of colored pencils, your favorite pacifier and Lincoln the Ram, the oldest stuffie you had. You reached for the ram, and when you'd pulled him out you saw a bag of candy. Bucky laughed when your eyes lit up, "No baby, that's for today, you can have some later." You jutted your lip out and he shook his head, "Nice try, but puppy dog eyes only work on papa."

When you accepted that, Steve spoke up, "This is a special backpack sweetness." Your brows furrowed as you looked at it, not seeing anything about it. Bucky pulled out a stretchy cord that ended in a scrunchy like bracelet. "When you put this backpack on, daddy or papa will put this on." He slid it on his wrist and tugged at the cord close to his wrist, "So you can't go wondering off like you always do." You whined loudly, "Won' run off!" Your face in Steve's neck, letting out another loud whine.

“Oh silly baby,” Steve kissed your hair, “it’s okay, you’re not in trouble for being curious, we’re just trying to protect our kitty.” You let out a heavy groan, “No, don’ wanna wear it.” You clutched to Lincoln, your chin wobbling on edge of tears. “Dollie,” Bucky said softly, stepping forwards to rub your back, “it’s dangerous when you run away from us, you forget in the pretty head to tell your daddies where you’re going and we can’t find you.” You let out a long groan in protest and stayed in the crook of Steve’s neck, Bucky’s hand still on your back, “We can stay home instead of going and seeing all the animals, would you like that better?” Your head rose and you shook your head at him, “No daddy, I’ll wear it.” Bucky felt a strain on his heart when he saw the way your pout still rested on your face. “You won’t hardly notice it baby,” he kissed your nose, “not with all the pretty animals we’re gonna see.”

When you got to the zoo, Bucky unbuckled you in the back. You always sat in the middle because that’s where you were most protected, so he had to drag you out of the car a bit. “Okay baby,” he held the backpack up, “put ‘em in there.” You just stared at him a minute, “What if I pinky p’omise to be good?” He shakes his head, “Baby, you already are good. You agreed to wear it to be safe, we can’t go in if you’re not going to be safe.”

You huffed and put your arms in it, the band already around Bucky’s wrist. “Good girl, now listen to me baby, you gotta keep your backpack on, it can’t come off or it defeats the whole purpose.” You nodded deftly, body now trained on bouncing towards the gate. As you got around more people, Steve grabbed your shoulder and bent down to your face. “Did you hear daddy baby? That backpack doesn’t come off until we are back in this parking lot or you're in one of our arms, understood?” You nodded and Steve raises his eyebrows, “Yes papa, I understand.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb before giving you a quick kiss, standing back up.

It had worked remarkably well, you’d gotten distracted by all the animals as suspected. You were pulling Bucky around everywhere, and of course with Bucky came Steve. You pulled them to the lions rather quickly, jumping up and down, changing positions all over the outside of the enclosure to see them. “Daddy!” You ran to near the end of the enclosure, stopped dead in your tracks by the leash.

Bucky chuckled, but to you it was no laughing matter. “Wha’ you doin?” You pulled on him, shaking your bag roughly, “Baby, slow down okay, we’ve got plenty of time to look at the lions.” You made an angry face at him and continued to pull at the leash, “Come on! Wanna walk wif it!” You stomped your feet until he finally caught up with you. “Dis’ is why I always look wifout you, you too slow.” Bucky ignores your comment, mainly because you grab his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, shaking his arm and pointing at the big cat, “Take it home wif us?” Steve, who stood behind you, laughed in shock, “That’s a no from me bug, come on, let’s go see what’s next.”

With his recommendation you remember that there are so many more animals at the zoo. You squeak out a high pitched okay and take off skipping. Your long legged daddies had no problem keeping up throughout the next few hours, but then you had to potty. Truth be told, you were tired of looking at the giraffes anyway.

You glanced up to your daddy, who's whispering something in Steve's ear and laughing. You tug on him, and he turns toward you, "Gotta go potty." He smiled, nodding his head, "Of course bug, thank you for telling us without trying to run off." You grumbled and started walking to the bathroom, keeping the leash taught the entire time. You started to shrug off your backpack, irritation creeping up your spine before stopping.

You turned around to Steve and Bucky, a frown plastered on your face. You waited until they were dead in front of you, you slid off the backpack and pushed it roughly into their chest, stomping away to the bathroom. Both of them stared at each other for a moment, Steve commenting lowly, "Awfully grumpy." Bucky's mind swirled, you're not one to be outrageously bratty, so when you came back out, he knelt down and grabbed your hand.

"What's going on my buggy boo? Is something bothering you? You not feeling good?" You shrugged, pulling your hand back and taking the backpack with a wobbling lip. He made a clicking noise, smiling and took the backpack from you. "How about papa wears the backpack and I'll carry you, it's about time for lunch anyway, right?" You seem to instantly relax and let Bucky balance you on his hip, kissing your cheeks.

Steve slipped on the backpack, an odd and tight fit on his body but with the straps completely loosened, it had a millimeter of wiggle room. He starts to lead the way and Bucky whistles sharply at him. Steve turns around with raised eyebrows, but Bucky is looking at you with a 'can-you-believe-him' look.

Bucky turns to Steve, grabbing the bracelet part of the backpack and sliding it on your wrist, "You can't go running off either," Bucky looks down to you, giggling into his shoulder, "isn't that right sweetness?" You nod, looking up to Steve, shaking your wrist, "Papa we gots tuh know you safe!" Steve immediately catches on to what Bucky's doing, and smacks his forehead playfully, "How silly of me, huh dovey?" You pointedly nod, a smug look on your face, "Uh-huh, now nommies please!"

You're in a much better mood being carried by your daddy, shaking the leash playfully at Steve when you sit down at the table. He slid the backpack off of his back, laying it down on the table. "I thought maybe you'd like a dum dum while we wait on Daddy to come back?" Steve was bouncing you on his knee, already popping the sucker into your mouth. You laid your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed while enjoying the sweet lemon in your mouth, too asleep to notice it disappearing from your mouth.

Bucky sits down with Steve, smiling at your tired form, "I told you she'd tucker herself out and we wouldn't be able to get through the whole zoo today." Steve scoffed, "You act as if she's going to be willing to leave." Bucky kissed Steve softly before planting kisses all over your face, rousing you from sleep.

As much as you don't want to be grumpy, you can't help but frowning at Bucky. He just kisses your nose and tilts his head towards the food at the table. Your eyes land on the chicken strips first and your whole body bounces at sight of the large slushy on the table. "I-Buh-'S mine?" Bucky laughs at your apprehension to breaking the rules, don't have too much sugar. "Of course baby, we thought you'd like something sweet, like yourself."

When you are done eating lunch, Bucky tries to help you put your backpack on, but you run away from him, around the table. "Nuh-uh," you cross your arms over your chest and look to Steve with puppy eyes. "Baby," he starts, coming over to you, sitting on the metal seat, "what's going on? Don't you like your new backpack?" Your bottom lip wiggles again, tears in your eyes, "'S ugly." Steve looks shocked, "Honey, you love purple, what's really going on?"

That's when the damn broke, tears falling from your face and broken sobs coming out. Steve's holding his arms around you, and Bucky's found his way to rub your back. "Shhh, dove, tell papa what's got your head going so fast." You're hiccuping, letting out broken coughs with small gags, unable to form coherent words. Bucky grabs your chin, holding your straw to your lips, "Here baby, take a drink of your slushy." Somehow you listen to him, sugar is always a good bribe for you.

"Dollie," Bucky pulls you onto his lap, "what's wrong?" His eyebrows are raised, forehead against yours, noses almost touching. He's waiting for you to regain a normal breath to press harder. He doesn't get the chance, because you start talking before he can ask again. "J-jus- 'nother reason tuh ignore me."

Bucky's heart breaks, Steve's expression matching the hurt Bucky feels deep inside him. "What on earth are you talking about honey?" Your eyes start to tear up again and Bucky scolds you gently, "No, no more of that you hear me?" You nod and let Bucky wipe away one of your stray tears. "Honey, we bought the backpack because we were so worried, not so we could ignore you. You run around and poke at everything, you forget to tell your daddies what you're doing and it scares us. You understand baby?" You shrugged and Bucky sighed, kissing your cheek. He's about to say something else when Steve picks you up from Bucky's lap.

"Bucky, put the backpack on, let's go," he's gentle about it, but you're still upset. "No! Wanna see more pets!" Steve tries to lightheartedly chuckle, but it comes out dry, "Oh dove, we're not leaving the zoo, we're just moving on." When Bucky has the backpack on he puts the leash on your wrist, just as it was when Steve wore it.

Steve catches you shaking the band around your arm, and a lightbulb goes off in his head. "You see baby?" Steve starts, and you're confused, so he continues, "You're constantly playing with it, that means your eyes are on daddy at all times." You furrow your brows, a pout still resting on your face. "Go on Bucky," Steve nods in an opposite direction, and Bucky starts walking. When the leash reaches the end of its rope, your arm is pulled until Bucky turns around to face you.

You're hesitant, eyes flickering between Steve and Bucky, "No forgettin' me?" You're looking up into Steve's eyes, swimming with love, "Dove, you're everything on our mind every second of every day. We got it so if anything happened, anyone tried talking to me or Bucky, or we argued over dark or milk chocolate, we'd never be too distracted for you." You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling closely to him.

You can feel the leash pulling on you, and it takes your attention away from Steve. Steve doesn't move his feet though, Bucky playfully moving side to side to pull at the cord around your wrist. "Papa, daddy's tryin' to run off!" You could hear Bucky laugh as Steve caught up to you. "Whatdya say we get some of that ice cream you love so much Dollie, before we go see the rest of the animals?"

You beam at Bucky, a genuine smile crossing your face that lights up your eyes. "Dippin' Dots!" You shake and dance in Steve's arms, "Lemmee down, lemme down! Dippin' Dots! Dippin' Dots! Dippin Dots!" Steve lets your feet hit the ground, and you pout a little, glancing to the backpack. Steve seems to pick up on your hesitation, "How about daddy wears the backpack, you wear the bracelet and hold my hand? That way everyone is kept together and safe?"

You happily take his hand, all wariness thrown to the wind when you started skipping. "Dollie," Bucky stops, making you and Steve stop in place. He looks stern for a minute, but then breaks into a laughing fit, pointing to the righthand turn at the intersection. "You were so excited," he kept laughing, moving you to see the stand with many balloons and a sign that says 'Dippin' Dots', "that you ran right by it!"

You take off running, Bucky and Steve quick to follow. They didn't bother trying to gently reprimand you, they didn't care if you were excited and couldn't contain yourself. In fact, they loved it, as much as they needed a way to keep track of you with the leash, they wanted a way to make sure they never miss your bubbling excitement.

When you've made it to the stand, you are tugging on Steve. He looks down to you, watching your eyes flicker to the balloons. He smiles at you, adding your favorite color balloon to the order. Once you'd all sat on a bench, he starts to tie the balloon around your free wrist but you jerk away. "Daddy," you turn to Bucky, "we switch." You starting pulling the backpack off Bucky without waiting for a response, causing him to struggle to shuffle around his dippin' dots while laughing at you.

You've safely switched who holds what, now chowing on your dippin' dots in your hand and a y/f/c balloon on your wrist. You're starting to think the backpack isn't so bad, maybe you can convince them to buy you more of the things you want if they see you so excited over them.

Or you could always pout about the backpack and get what you wanted any ways.

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wh6res · 4 years ago

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three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

#nct imagines #yandere nct #yandere kpop #nct smut #nct scenarios #yandere jaemin #yandere jeno #jaemin imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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mianavs · 4 years ago

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No Escape

You wanted to start a new life but your old one wasn’t done with you just yet

Osamu x runaway!reader

a piece i wrote for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s decadence collab

a/n: heavily inspired by my time working at a restaurant minus the hot boss bit. using Kobe as the location of Miya Onigiri

tw: smut, assault, implied imprisonment

wc: 1.8k+

It’s only been three months since you ran away to Kobe but you’re already settling comfortably into your new life.

The studio you’re renting is tiny and the faint smell of mildew doesn’t leave no matter how much baking soda and vinegar you use to clean the walls and floors—you can’t stand the smell of bleach. Nevertheless, it’s warm and inviting after a long day at work when all you want to do is collapse on your bed to give your weary legs a break. Most importantly, it’s your home and no one is there to lock you in while taking away the key.

Your work is hands-down the best thing about your life. There is no where you’d rather be than in a hot kitchen with sweat dripping down your face as you chop ingredients, sauté vegetables, and plate your creations. It all started with a home economics class in high school that led you into accepting a scholarship to a culinary school that you attended for a year before your life was turned upside down by—

“Y/N! The order! Is it done?”

Your head snaps up to find your boss Osamu Miya drumming his fingers on the counter as he stares you down, thick brows knitted together. You suck in a breath and dart your eyes down to the three onigiri that have yet to be coated with Furikake seasoning. Swiftly, you press the seasoning onto the rice balls before handing the plate over to your boss.

“Done!”

Osamu looks up from the plate and lets his eyes linger on you before nodding wordlessly and taking the food to the customer. It’s a busy Friday evening and you’re understaffed again so Osamu’s waiting tables while you’re working the kitchen along with two other cooks. The orders pile up on the line and adrenaline courses through your veins as you dart around the kitchen gathering ingredients and dodging your coworkers.

Shifts like these drain all your energy and by the time the clock hits 10pm, your legs feel as if they’ll fall off at any moment. Still, you don’t mind the hectic rushes during the day because they keep you from revisiting the painful memories you keep buried away in the darkest recesses of your mind.

Cleaning up after a long busy shift is the hardest part about working at a restaurant like Onigiri Miya. The building is old and the unwelcome critters like to come out at night, so Osamu is quite anal about storing ingredients and cleaning.

It’s not that you hate cleaning but obsessive cleanliness makes your blood run cold and your throat close up until you can’t breathe. It takes you back to that pristine home that became your own personal hell.

You’re scrubbing the outside of the huge metal rice cooker when one of your coworkers lets out a yelp which is followed by the sound of splashing water. The acrid fumes of bleach assault your nose and you look down to see your shoes covered with the cleaning agent.

The scrub sponge slips from your hand as a wave of nausea sweeps over you. Bile rises up your throat and you grip onto the nearby wall to get on your feet before staggering to the bathroom.

The flickering lights of the dingy bathroom distort your vision further but you make a beeline to the sink regardless. You turn on the hot water and pump a ridiculous amount of soap before frantically rubbing your hands together until your skin is red and raw. Your heart hammers inside your heaving chest and hot tears blur your vision as the voice that haunts your nightmares rings in your ears.

Filthy

Dirty

Gross

You’ll never be clean without me

You nearly jump out of your skin when a heavy hand lands on your shoulder. Every muscle in your body tenses painfully and a single thought echoes in your head like a mantra.

He found me

But it isn’t him. It’s Osamu forcing you to face him as his fingers dig into your shoulders. Suddenly, you can breathe again and you deflate like a balloon.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I got you.” His rich voice never fails to calm you down during your panic attacks and you wonder how you ever got so lucky to have him as a boss and—

He pulls you to him, pressing his lips against yours in an abrupt kiss. He coaxes you to submit with every languid stroke of his tongue, every touch that burns through your clothes, every groan that rumbles in his chest. Your body always resists him at first and you wonder if it’s due to the wounds of your past that still feel fresh or the inappropriateness of your relationship because Osamu is your boss. Those thoughts eventually melt away along with your resistance and you open up to him in more ways than one.

It’s your first time at his flat but you don’t see much of it because he has you against his front door as soon as you cross the threshold. His lips latch on to your sensitive neck, swiping his teeth against your skin and littering it with marks. It isn’t until his hand buries itself inside your undone pants that your lustful haze dampens.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your protest falls on deaf ears as Osamu palms your throbbing clit and pushes two long digits into your needy cunt. A jolt of pleasure runs through your body and you grasp at his shoulders, hair, and back while he pumps his fingers at a fast but steady pace.

From your previous trysts at the restaurant, Osamu already knows his way around the fleshy walls of your cunt and aims toward that spot that has you coming undone in minutes. You’re keening and holding on to him for dear life when your release washes over you and covers his entire hand and wrist. Like clockwork, shame and terror take root and a cruel husky voice embedded in your memory resurfaces.

Dirty

That one word is all it takes for you to unlatch yourself from Osamu and glance at the mess you’ve made. You’re trembling like a leaf waiting for a heavy hand to send you across the floor or for harsh fingers to grip your hair to throw you like a ragdoll, but Osamu isn’t him so he brings his two fingers to his mouth and licks them clean; his eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

That single action is what breaks down any lingering walls that still stood between you and your boss and you rush at him planting a hungry kiss on his lips, savoring the taste of your cum still on them. He matches your fervent kiss and leads you to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in your wake.

You end up on his lap with his cock buried inside your messy cunt and you see stars with every upward thrust of his hips. He latches his mouth onto a nipple and suckles on it until it’s red and throbbing before switching to the other.

“S-Samu! Ah-”

He bites down on your nipple and it’s the explosion of pain that drives you over the edge—the way your body was trained to do. Your fleshy walls convulse around his cock and cum gushes out of you coating your conjoined bodies.

“Fuck-”

Osamu curses and buries his teeth into your shoulder as hot spurts of semen shoot into your womb and fill you up to the brim. The two of you cling onto each other as the aftershocks of your orgasms subside. There’s a stinging pain coming from your breast and shoulder and you know without looking that he’s drawn blood.

But you’re used to it and at least Osamu doesn’t kick you off him and call you a filthy whore.

He eventually pulls you into bed with him but the itching need to clean yourself overwhelms you.

“We should clean ourselves up.” You suggest, pushing against his chest to no avail.

“Later,” he mumbles and tightens his hold until there’s no space between you. “How about you stay the night?”

It’s posed as a question but it’s more like a statement especially since he has no intention of letting you go. There’s a foreboding tightness in your chest but Osamu presses a loving kiss on the top of your head and you forget all about it.

You wake up to the sound of male voices but a husky voice stands out from the others. It’s a voice you know all too well because it haunts you night and day. Your blood runs cold when you realize he’s in the bedroom conversing with two other people and your heart shatters when you hear Osamu. You keep your eyes closed praying that they leave the room so you can figure something out but the conversation suddenly stops.

“I know you’re awake, Y/N.”

A cold hand sweeps a strand of your hair to the side and the nauseating smell of hand sanitizer has bile rising up your throat.

In a bout of madness, you launch a pillow at Kiyoomi Sakusa and make a break for the door. You take a couple of steps before two pairs of hands stop you. It’s Osamu and a man who looks just like him who hold you down while you struggle against them like a wild animal.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! LET ME GO! LET M-”

Sakusa’s hand goes up and then there’s a loud crack followed by throbbing pain on the side of your face. Even with your blurry vision you can still make out the disgust on Sakusa’s face as he watches you cough up blood.

“It doesn’t matter how loud you are. No one will come for you.”

He crouches down in front of you and his lips twitch in amusement as you struggle against Osamu and his twin brother. Cold black eyes examine your face before his hand digs into his pocket and takes out a handkerchief.

“I thought I lost you forever, Y/N. Thankfully, Miya introduced me to his brother who just so happened to know a certain girl from Tokyo with a mysterious past.” He wipes the blood off your face and watches the fight in your eyes die out with every word he utters.

“You don’t know how worried I was when I came home and you weren’t in your room.”

Your stomach lurches when he brings his face to your head and inhales your scent the way he always did since your high school days when you didn’t think anything of it. You curse the day you ever decided to befriend Sakusa.

“You’ll have to be punished, of course, but I promised Osamu I wouldn’t be too harsh with you. After all, you’ll belong to the three of us now.”

As if on cue, Osamu presses a wet kiss on your cheek and memories of last night cause hot angry tears to stream down your face. You were foolish to trust Osamu but even more foolish to think you could ever escape you captor.

#osamu x reader #haikyuu smut #osamu smut #osamu x y/n #hq smut #osamu #miya osamu #haikyuu fanfic #hq fanfic #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #tw: smut #tw: assault #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #sweetheart decadence #navs.hq #hqintheclub

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angelyuji · 4 years ago

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first dates with my faves 😁 : nanami, loki, mammon, arvin, peter maximoff, and 707: yandere edition

cw // forced kissing, guys having a weird thing for innocence, stalking, breaking in and stealing personal items, society, awkward dates, kidnapping, mild to extreme yanderes, shoplifting, unconsensual touching, implied murder, religion is used wrongly to control

nanami: expensive restaurant - is on edge after being forced to go (by gojo). he’ll be watching your every move: the way you talk, the way you sit, the way you excuse yourself. he’ll size you up: your dress, your shoes, your jewelry. god, youre so polite and so friendly, his heart warms at your smile. your mannerisms make him wanna grab you and just hold you close. you’d get your menus and he’d order, then he’ll look at you and you’ll only be able to open your mouth before he just orders for you. you’ll be surprised, but you won’t say anything. giving him enough information to know that you’re perfect for him. he’s not the type to kiss or take you home on the first date, nanami is a gentleman, but you...you’re an exception. he’ll take you to your front door before watching your eyes. he sees such an innocent shine and he wants to protect that innocence for himself. he’ll lean in, holding the back of your head, and he’ll force bring you into a kiss. you’ll warm up to him eventually.

“my tie would look beautiful around your neck, darling”

loki: reallly expensive restaurant - like nanami, he’d be watching your every move. he’ll treat you like you’re inferior to him. he does not wanna be on this date, so he’s not gonna treat you that well. he’s watching you in absolute distaste, hoping you’ll slip up so he can tear you down. watching the way your outfit hugs you, the way you pick up you utensils, the way you laugh every time he sneers at each course. halfway through the dinner, he’ll realize that he’s paying more attention to you than his own dinner. loki won’t wait for you to pick something to eat, not because he wants to see if you’re his type, but because he doesn’t care about what you want. you’ll eat what he orders, no exceptions. the more you go along with everything he says, the more he’ll start looking at you as more of a pet than inferior to him. at the end, if ur not absolutely done with the bs, he’ll drive to your place and look you up and down. as you squirm, he’ll smirk before pulling you into a kiss. you wont be able to fight the kiss, his grip on you strong. then, he’ll reach over, open the door, and tell you to get out. he’ll come back for later though when you’re least prepared.

“get your clothes, pet. you’re coming with me”

peter maximoff: shoplifting - he's all casual, looking to have fun. you walk in to the mall thinking you're going to go shopping as a first date, and he's gonna be late. he'll be watching you from afar to see if he likes you, first. he'll look at your outfit, the stores you go in, what kind of clothes you browse through. he'll speed in, grab your phone, and scroll through that. 30 minutes into your date time, he'll show up in front of you, dragging you off into one of the designer stores. its a test when he grabs the first shirt off the rack, he wants to see how you’d react. are you a prude or are you the one he's been waiting for? are you gonna get angry or just let him do his thing. he'll watch your face as he grabs more and more, seeing you react makes him chuckle. your face twisting in worry, glancing back behind your shoulder every time an employee walks over. he starts to enjoy getting you all riled up and anxious. he laughs every time you ask him to stop and tells you to just relax, he knows what he's doing. by the end of the night, your nerves are shot and you feel like throwing up every time you glance towards the bag of stolen goods. peter doesn't kiss you, but tells you he'll call you before speeding away and leaving you in the mall parking lot.

"don't worry, no one will find out what we're doing"

mammon: watching the stars - mammon will text you to meet him in the planetarium. he’ll have everything ready: a blanket, some snakes, and music. he knows you and he knows you love him already, this "first" date is just confirming to him that you're his. he'll be so sweet for the first time (and the last). he'll be complimenting you so much, calling you his sweet angel, his love, his lovely human. it'll be the little things though, that leave you on edge. the soft touches, the hand on the thigh, the hand too low on your back, the way he moves you to his lap. small things that leave you feeling gross. mammon would be so happy you choose him. he'd never show it, of course, but you'll see it with every hidden smile and the clammy hands. he'd tell you to lay down next to him and he'd force you to lay your head on his arm. every couple moments mammon would inch closer and closer, and soon you'll be a tangled mess of limbs. by the end of your date, mammon would be nuzzling into your neck and you're more rigid than a new pair of shoes. there is no walking back to your room with mammon, he'll keep you next to him till the next morning or take you to his room.

"you smell really nice. why're you moving away, come closer to me"

arvin russel: drive-in theater - arvin will come to your house to pick you up. he'll be jittery and the moment you climb into his car, he'll be heads over heels in love. your gorgeous smile, the way your outfit shines in the setting sun, the way your shoes sound on the dirt. he lives for the simple things that you do. he's seen you for 5 seconds and he's obsessed with you. he'll be a gentleman, getting out of the car to open your door, keeping his hands to himself the entire drive to the theater. you're so pure to him, so innocent, so clean unlike him. he'll be listening to you talk about your family and your life with so much attention. you'll blush when you finally feel his stare, but he'll just tell you to continue, saying that he likes hearing your voice as he drives. if you confess about someone that has hurt you, he'll store that information away, and reach for you hand. he'd glow if you accept. once you reach the theater, he'll go and get snacks, locking the doors just in case. by the time he's back, the movie would have started and you're engrossed in the movie, he'd watch you for a little while. the way your eyebrows furrow, the slight bit of your bottom lip, and he'd smile when you tense at the sound of him opening the door. you'll lean on him, sending his heart into a fit. he'll hid his smile with his hand as your grip on his other hand tightens. when the movie ends, he'll drive you back and you'll both talk about the movie. he'll walk you to your door. you'll stare at each other, blushing, before he leans in and you follow suit. to arvin, you both fit together perfectly. once he leaves you, he'll go take care of anyone that can stand in his way.

"you hurt her. you hurt my girl... you're gonna have to pay for that."

707: picnic in the woods - the both of you were on house arrest to stay away from the agency’s radar, so when seven saw the chance to finally take you on a proper first date…he took it. he wants to treat you like the princess you are, even if you weren’t that willing to be with him. he’d set everything up before the date and make saeran drop u off. he’ll meet you at the start with a trail of roses. he’ll have a hand on your arm the entire time to make sure that you don’t stray from the path, and once you get there, fairy lights strung up on the trees, a red and white plaid blanket laid carefully in the middle, cute cat plates, and a picnic basket overflowing with food. as much as you hated being around your obsessive lover, you couldn’t help but be in awe of his hard work. he brought food that you’d enjoy and different games to play as you guys talk. saeyoung would make your date the most aesthetically pleasing. from the cute summer dress he forced you to wear to the cakes in wine glasses, he’d make it a date fit for a princess. he’ll watch as you eat, taking note of the way you cover your mouth to hide your smile. he’ll watch you the entire time in awe of your beauty. no matter what you’re doing, saeyoung will file it away as beautiful. seven would notice how you watch him carefully as well, it seems like you’re planning your next move, but as you get up, he’ll pull you flat on the ground. his arms would wrap around your waist and you’ll hug him back. he kisses you with a passion, pressing against you, trying to show you how he feels without words. your knight… your savior… your god wants a kiss in return for protecting you. how can you refuse?

“i am your god, mc. i’ll always protect you.”

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quicksilverrwrites · 4 years ago

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𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it’s your first date with peter maximoff, and the tension between the two of you has been building for weeks. you share a passion like no other, and there's only one place this date can go: the dark back alley of the arcade, a place where no soul dare to go lest they bare the damned title of 'staff'. or quicksilver and scribe, i guess. you pick. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, sexual innuendos, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader (sorry americans <3), make out scene and sexual attraction 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the character that features as y/n in my fics is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

Your date with Peter comes around the corner faster than you thought it would considering you’re not exactly the typical ‘student’ at Xavier’s School.

You’d thought it would take forever for the week to pass: typically, you spend your time waiting for your friend group to get out of lessons. You’re older, having graduated school when you lived in the United Kingdom, so the only lessons you attend are that of Power Efficiency, Mutant Physiology and Ethics, the latter two being optional and studied merely out of interest. The rest of your schedule consists of a lot of free time. You don’t work—with all the money you have, why would you? Uncle Charles keeps nagging you to do something with your time, something productive, but after what you went through in England with your father…

Making friends here was difficult enough. Dealing with your powers in a new situation—coming to this school—was enough. You’re not exactly an extrovert, either, which is why you’re so surprised that you and Peter click so well.

He’s eccentric and annoying and perfect. Okay, perhaps not perfect in a literal sense, but to you he is. Sure, his leather jacket kind of smells from age and sometimes he talks so fast that you find yourself struggling to keep up, but you find it endearing. And oh, those eyes—you could watch how they light up when he’s super excited about something forever, you think.

He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a while. You wonder if Charles knew what he was doing when he made Peter your buddy upon your arrival at this institute, but in reality, you know it’s because you’re both the oldest students—almost-students?—at this school. Besides, Charles has seen the two of you work together as a chaotic duo, and you’ve heard the sighs and mutterings of the man when he’s been most exasperated because of the both of you. Why, you think, grinning at your reflection in the mirror, would he ever put himself through that chaos if he could avoid it? The first prank you articulated together was the beginning of many, and you’ve practically been inseparable since you first arrived here.

First it was friendship. Then… yeah, it didn’t take much at all to blossom into something more.

You look good, you think, smoothing down Peter’s Rush tee as it hangs oversized on your body. You look really good. Your style is what would be expected of Charles’ niece even despite the fact that you’ve only ever met him a few times in your life: classy, 10% preppy, academic to a fault. You typically match your clothes to the colour of your powers: blue, but azure in particular. Sometimes pastel blue. You’re particular like that. But tonight you’ve opted for something different. Something a little more… Peter.

Your hair falls naturally past your shoulders, and the cool sleeves of a black leather jacket—your father’s leather jacket, the only leather jacket you own—hang from your shoulders while the jacket itself stops at your thighs. It's too big for you. You’ve paired a black skirt with the shirt, but it’s free flowing and a soft material that practically blends in with Peter’s top. Your boots are chunky platforms, black, and this is the darkest your outfit has been in a while.

It still feels… you, though. It feels right. Maybe because Peter feels right, and you stole this tee from him after you stayed over that night in his basement when it was pouring with rain. You both knew you could’ve opened up a portal to get back to your dorm, but neither of you wanted that.

You both want this, though. You both want each other.

The very acknowledgement of that fact forces you to take a steadying breath in, but the sound of a knock at your door makes your breath stammer. You look at the clock frantically. Is he here already? You both agreed on seven thirty, and it’s only seven. You had a schedule. Arcade, dinner, and whatever was left for after. Maybe a kiss if you work up the courage. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought. But—

“Ah—hello?” A familiar voice sounds from the door. You breathe a sigh of relief: Kurt. “I came to see if you needed help with anyzi—”

You cross the room to the door and open it before Kurt can finish his sentence.

Kurt grins. As usual it’s a sheepish grin, but there is excitement in his eyes.

“Excited?” Kurt asks. “I vould be if I vere going on a date with ze magnificent Quicksilver.”

You grin at him and roll your eyes, ushering him in the room before you close the door behind you. “Don’t say that in the hallway!” You scold him, not entirely serious. “Anyone could be listening.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Could it be that you are embarrassed?”

Your eyes widen, brows rising too. “No! It’s just—it’s nice now that things between us are private. And… I want to take things slow. I’ve been on dates before, and when you tell people about it it’s always the same thing: when are you going to do this? When are you going to do that? I don’t want to be pressured. And explaining my reasoning to want to take things slow is almost as tiring as actually working myself up into confidence so that I’m not nervous the entire time—”

“You definitely seem nervous.”

You scowl at your friend. “I am not nervous.”

“Your cheeks are red.”

At that, you know your face is starting to flush as red as a tomato. “You are insufferable sometimes.”

Kurt grins. “A few weeks ago, I vould have been hurt to hear you say this.”

You scoff, batting him playfully on the arm. “Are you going to walk me down to the common room or not?”

Kurt’s face takes on an air of confusion. “Ze common room? Why there?”

You shrug softly. “Peter is meeting me there.”

Kurt’s eyes light up with amusement. “Ah,” he responds, and you know by the exaggerated upwards tilt of his head that the next words out of his mouth are going to be sarcastic. “Very discreet, yes. I bet he will bring flowers.”

You scoff once more, parting your lips in playful annoyance as you turn to leave the room, but Kurt appears in front of you before your hand reaches the doorknob. He opens the door, extends his hand to you when his back is pressed against it, and the bow he delivers is nothing but formal. Gentlemanly. He probably learned it in the circus. You give him a teasingly formal nod as you accept his fingers in your own.

The door closes behind you, locks with a wave of your hand, and with a deep breath, the two of you venture down the halls of the manor.

***

You hear the sounds of people cursing at Peter before you actually see Peter.

You and Kurt turn to look at the double doors which lead into the common room at the same time, but Peter comes to a speedy stop in front of the both of you before you can even track his movements… and Peter’s eyes glaze over your appearance, your outfit, as his face pales.

You smirk at the sight of it. You know he likes it. Likes seeing you in his clothes. He looked at you the same way when you first walked out of the bathroom attached to the basement in his tee and grey shorts after that night in the rain. He had slept on the sofa then, had given you his bed, but he’d mentioned to you a couple of days after that his sheets still smelled like a mix of him and you.

You knew then that he couldn’t get the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head.

His outfit isn’t a change from what he usually wears, but he still looks amazing. Hot. The sight of him takes your breath away every time you see him. Silver-and-black jacket, white tee with a band insignia on it, and leather pants with his silver shoes. You can’t forget the goggles on his head, either. But—wait, no, there is something different. A sort of smell.

“What are you wearing?” You ask, the end of your sentence tinged with laughter.

Peter glances down at his outfit. “What?” He asks, confusion—and the slightest bit of worry?—in his gaze. “What's wrong with this?”

“No, silly,” you laugh, “your aftershave. What is it?”

It’s the very definition of seventies musk. It’s musky, leathery, and there’s the faintest smell of whiskey. He’s put way too much on, but your mother always used to complain about how much perfume you put on, too. You’re wearing it now: it’s sweet with the air of something more expensive. Valentino.

When you asked the lady in the store to let you try the ones which smelled sweet like vanilla, this was the first one she showed you. Out of the eight you had the choice of, you were sold on the very first one. You know that the best way to get a guy to fall for you is to smell sweet like candy—it reminds them of their childhood. Or in Peter’s case, you guess it might just remind him of twinkies. You know he loves those.

Peter’s cheeks flush red, and he lowers his head as he laughs. “Oh, man. My mom was right. I really stink, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh: a genuine laugh, teeth in your smile and all. You stand from the sofa you were sitting on with Kurt, and you realise only then that he’s already disappeared. You feel a twinge of guilt for not noticing earlier, but you forgive yourself for that: it is your date night, and Kurt is forever polite.

“You smell great, Peter,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. He doesn’t smell bad — it’s better than the leather jacket smell. “And I’m excited for our,” you glance around, whispering, “date.”

Peter’s eyes light up at that. “Right. Date. You mind if I—?”

He gestures to your neck. Whiplash. Right. You shake your head. “Just don’t mess up my hair.”

He blinks at you. “Do you realise how much of a challenge that is?”

Your smile is sickly sweet and riddled with sarcasm. “You’ll figure it out.”

His expression goes slack. He likes it when you do that; when you’re mean to him. You’re a lovely person typically—you reached the lucky end of the trauma spectrum, the opposite of which being the angry side which could’ve made you an arse—but it’s so easy to tease Peter. You like the power in being able to wrap him around your finger. You’ve never had this power over any man before, and after feeling powerless for so long, it's thrilling.

Peter clears his throat, steps towards you, and you swear he’s trying to use the lightest touch possible as he steadies your neck and places a shaky hand on your waist—

And then you’re off.

The world is barely more than a blur. You can’t keep up. Just as you think you’ve gotten used to it, Peter turns a corner—or at least you think that's what happens, because that’s how you would describe the sensation of being almost jolted to the side. And just when you think you can’t take any more, he stops. You’re in the mall, right outside the blue-walled and darkly lit arcade.

Peter’s hands move gently from your body and you lean your hands against your thighs to try to stop the world from spinning. You’ve gotten used to the nauseating feeling this sort of travel gives you now, but you’re not used to the dizziness.

“You okay?” Peter asks, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s assessing you for any potential damage. His hand hovers over your back as if he’s afraid to overstep his bounds, but you would lean into his touch any day.

“Yeah,” you breathe, slowly easing upwards. “I’m good.”

Peter glances over your face in another silent check before he nods. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

You gape at him. Yeah, that sarcastic comment has knocked the dizziness right out of you. “Oh, you’re on.”

You’re less confident than you seem, but you don’t think Peter picks up on it as he grins and bouncily makes his way into the Arcade. You follow him, shoulder brushing against his as you catch up to his gait, because luckily you both walk fast. He turns to look at you and smiles, softer this time, and you almost get caught up in the softness of his eyes before your heart stammers, your throat closes up, and—

Oh, god. You’re not good with this. The romance. It makes you tense and nervous.

You turn away from him, hands wrapping around the controls of the nearest arcade game. “I call shotgun.”

Peter laughs and comes to a stop next to you. “I know you’re British and that makes you, like, socially awkward, but that only applies to cars.”

You nudge him in the side—hard, but not hard enough to really do damage. He hisses in annoyance, muttering jeez, lady, under his breath. You ask, “Are you really going to deny me my request on our date?”

Peter grins at you, fingers clenching around the neighbouring controls. “Depends. What do I get out of it?”

You smirk at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “A kiss or two at the end of this, perhaps.”

You watch Peter’s adam’s apple bob. “Per—perhaps?”

You grin. “Depends how you behave.”

You don’t need to read thoughts like your uncle to know that Peter has to be telling himself to breathe. Because it seems like an awful lot of effort for him to successfully inhale and exhale, and he doesn’t say anything before he slams a coin—a quarter? you don’t understand American money—into the machine and the BEGIN GAME screen buzzes to life.

It’s pretty hard for you to catch your breath as you both play in silence, too.

Eventually, conversation picks back up again. A sarcastic comment. The occasional compliment. Peter’s good at these games, but so are you. Arcade stand after arcade stand, his teasing remarks make your heart flutter… as well as something deeper within you, too. You’ve never felt attraction like this before, and truthfully, it’s driving you wild.

“Dad wasn’t around much back home,” you reveal, your eyes glued to the avatar on the screen as it darts around, “so I had a lot of time to kill. The arcade became my home. So yeah, it’s safe to say I can easily kick your arse.”

“Arse,” he teases, mimicking the way you speak. “Trying to let me let you win with a sob story, Xavier? Nah, not going to work.”

You gape at him, taking your eyes off the screen for a mere second, but Peter takes the opportunity to kill your avatar for good. With mock outrage, you quip, “I was not trying to do that!”

He grins at you, his eyes glowing purple and red in the light of your dying avatar. “Ah,” he whispers, “victory tastes sweet.”

You press your lips together in defeat, and then you sigh as you take your hand in his. “Come on. I want a slushie.”

Peter lets you drag him away, and the two of you settle down at the food stand in the arcade as the lights around you buzz blue and purple.

You like the lighting in here, you think, as you step up to the worker. “Two slushies, please,” you tell him, smiling politely. “One red and blue for me, and Peter—?”

“All of them,” he says, nodding towards the flavours.

You part your lips in surprise. All of them? There are about eight flavours up on that display, and you know it’s all going to melt into a mess of slush that barely tastes like anything other than sugar. But the worker has obviously been asked for worse, because he just shrugs and gets to work. One pump, two pumps, three pumps—he goes through them all with the finesse of someone who has worked at a place like this for far too long, and when he hands you your simple two-flavoured slushie in comparison to Peter's complex one, you feel like a bit of a slushie fraud.

You go to reach into your pocket to grab your card, but Peter pays in cash before you can get it out. The cashier gives him a dollar and seventy two cents change, and your date nods in thanks to the cashier before he turns to you with a grin that’s more genuine than cheeky. “My treat.”

You lower your gaze to hide how wide your smile is as you laugh. “Thanks, Peter.”

He nods, and the two of you stand there awkwardly for a second, you sucking innocently on your straw as he stares at you, before he looks at the table and chairs nearby. He clears his throat. “Wanna sit?”

You shrug politely and he pulls out a chair for you. Gentleman. Did his mother give him a run-down of what to do and what not to do before he came here? Probably. You smile at him, your insides warming as you sit down in your seat. This slushie is good, you think, slurping it up through the straw as Peter takes a seat opposite you.

He takes a sip of his drink before he asks, “So the thing about your dad. I know it’s a sore subject considering…” He raises his brows, and you know he means the reason you came here. “But do you mind if I—?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You have too much slushie in your mouth, though, so your words are slurred and you smile bashfully as you cover your lips. Sorry, your look says, but he just grins at you.

Peter forces himself to look away, to turn serious again, as he scratches at a loose bit of film on the table. “Why wasn’t he around? Like, the deadbeat dad kind of thing, or…?”

You shake your head. This time, when you speak, you’ve cleared the slushie from your mouth. Your voice is a bit hoarse from the cold as you respond, “No. He worked a lot. He was either in Germany or the Middle East or—somewhere. Mom has a temper, so I found the arcade was a better place to be than home. It’s easy to lose yourself in the games here.”

Peter nods slowly, his head tilting up in a way that indicates thoughtfulness. It’s nice that he’s memorising your words. Nice that he actually cares. That means more to you than anything. “Well, that makes two of us. Absent fathers, I mean, and moms…?”

You grin at him. He's talked about his father before, but always in vague detail. You respond, “Almost-there moms. Just emotionally absent, at least for me. Maybe stunted is the right word.”

Peter lets out a sound between a noise like phew and a laugh. “Harsh, Y/N. No sugarcoating it there.”

You shrug softly, lowering your gaze to your drink. “Sometimes I wonder if…”

Your sentence trails off, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Peter tilt his head. But he doesn’t say anything. Just lets you take your time as he continues picking at the table.

You force a breath. “Sometimes I wonder if what happened… happened for the best. Between the three of us, nobody was happy. But then I think of what I did to him and it’s just—”

“Hey,” Peter says, and across the table, his hand reaches out to splay across yours. “For people like us—mutants,” he says, his tone lowering at the end of his sentence, “stuff like this is inevitable. But, uh… Charles has kinda helped me see that it’s the first step towards controlling this sort of thing. The first step to doing something better. And hell, Y/N, you’re already, like, rockin’. So you only have further to go.”

Your brows furrow in surprise at his words, your eyes turning doe-like at his reassurances. “You don’t think I’ve already hit rock bottom?”

Peter laughs. “You’ve got too much money for that. I've seen you blow two-fifty on curtains. Still don't know how I watched you do it."

You let out a laugh, and that’s when you properly acknowledge the skin to skin contact. His touch makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Your shoulders roll back as your thumb brushes against his knuckle, and Peter’s eyes dart down to your fingers before he looks right back up at you. He looks nervous, like his heart is thudding just as hard as yours.

“I like this,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Peter lets out a huff of laughter, though from the sound of it, it’s an attempt to hide his nerves. “It’s only a slushie, Xavier."

Your laughter mimics his own, and you press your lips together as your eyes dart between his eyes and lips. You want to kiss him. You’ve never wanted to kiss somebody more. It’s like you could push him up against the wall and kiss him here and now without caring what anybody thinks, and you’ve never had that feeling before.

Peter’s throat bobs again. He’s staring at you in the same way, and you can feel the tension between the two of you as your chest tightens. But you can’t kiss here—not with the table between you, not when one of you will probably spill a slush puppy or both of them, or—

“Another game?” Peter says, his voice hoarse.

You blink the lust out of your eyes. Another game. Yeah—another game, and your slush puppy will melt between and it’ll be easier to drink, and then—

And then you can both get out of here.

You’ve never wanted to leave an arcade more.

The tension cools down a little as you play more games, but it rises as soon as you make a comment about his frantic button mashing movements; something like—

“I hope that’s not the technique you use in bed,” you tease.

Peter chokes, and needless to say, you win that game.

You keep playing until your slushies are finished. Peter finishes his before you, but he lets you have a sip before in order to try it. It’s just as you expected—a sugary mess with the strongest flavour being lime. It’s disgusting, but Peter merely grins at the sight of your face as you grimace at its sour taste.

You’re well aware of the way his gaze rakes up and down your body as you try to finish the rest of your slushie as fast as you can. You’re lingering now; the two of you want to get out of here, dinner be damned. His gaze hugs the curve of your body and lingers on your bare legs, your skin smooth and shaven, the boots you wear only elongating them—

“You look great, by the way,” Peter comments.

You look up at him while still sipping from that straw, and apparently the motion and the eye contact is too much for him. He looks away and mutters something under his breath, something you can’t hear over the beeping of the games and the music playing over the sound effects.

You slam the slushie cup down on the table next to you both with an air of achievement. “What?” You say almost teasingly. You know you’re driving him insane, and even though you’re hardly doing anything, this has been building up for weeks.

“Nothing,” Peter says.

Before you know it, his hand is at your neck and you’re in a different spot entirely.

It’s a short journey this time so you’re not dizzy. You’re still in the arcade, surrounded by the same blue walls and purple-hued lighting. But this area is darker and tucked away, and there’s a door nearby. Probably a staff entrance. This is somewhere you shouldn’t be, but for once, you’re not afraid of breaking the rules.

“The cups,” you comment teasingly. “We should clean them up.”

Peter lets out a breath. “Y/N,” he says, “I—"

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “Please.”

Peter wastes no time in fulfilling your request.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, lips pressed against yours as his fingers rest at your neck. Innocent, sweet, and yet filled with a sort of passion that sets your lungs and chest ablaze. You can’t help the noise of content that slips from your lips as he backs you up against the wall, and you can’t help but think that this is so unlike him, but—no. No, this is what he’s been keeping buried down for weeks. It's the same for you, too. This is what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

This is only half of what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

You gasp as his tongue slips out against yours, and your own darts out in response to the sensation. You press your body flush into his, the both of you heated and warm from the feel of one another, and your jacket is quickly getting too hot to keep on any longer. It’s cool in here with the air conditioning, but even so the two of you are ablaze and alive and—

“Y/N” Peter whispers against your lips, his nose brushing against yours as he pants for breath, “d’you think we could leave dinner for tonight?”

Your body talks for you before your mind can register what he says. "Yes," you breathe, and then you pull him back to you.

His lips are on yours and there is nothing either of you need to say as his fingers roam down your shoulders, your arms, moving to your waist. He avoids your breasts and you’re grateful for that; despite how much your body might burn for him, you know that would make you feel like an object, like he only wants you for sex—like your mother has told you countless times before.

But as you and Peter kiss in the belly of that arcade, you think you might have found the one. The first person you can finally trust.

It might be the first date and you might want to take things slow, but this feels too good to pass up. Too good to lose. And because of that, you don't plan on letting him go—

Not unless he wants you gone first.

Not until a member of staff kicks you guys out, at least.

#peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver x reader #peter maximoff oneshot #peter maximoff fanfic #quicksilver fanfic #if you liked this please let me know! i'm new to fanfic here hehe #i'm open to requests <3 #if you want to know more about the backstory for y/n pls send me an ask!#hope you liked it!

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mha-platonic-yanderes · 4 years ago

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Settling In: Family Dinner

Inspired by @i-cant-sing

If there was any word to describe the past week, you would choose quiet. A schedule was set for your time spent here and rarely it would deviate. Rei would wake you up to watch the sunrise with you and you’d get ready for the day with her. The outfit she chooses always sits on the bed waiting for you while she does your hair. Mornings are spent in either the sun room or the library, with Rei always watching. Though, she leaves to cook. She always left you to cook. If nobody else was home, that means you’d be left alone. Fuyumi would come by for dinner some nights and take your afternoons. Enji wasn’t home during the day, but joined you all for dinner every night before you could retire to your new room. Even if the schedule is slightly smothering, it’s easy to keep up with.

There were no chores or responsibilities for you to do, unlike your old homes. It was relaxing—too relaxing. There was no stress, so you created some. Tonight, instead of Rei, Enji, and maybe Fuyumi, the other two Todoroki children were coming over. You don't know what to expect, so you stress over it.

Fuyumi warned you that they weren’t as accepting as she was, that they weren’t as involved with the family as she was. You don’t want to make a terrible first impression. You don’t want your new siblings to hate you.

Fuyumi comes home earlier than her siblings, coming immediately home from work. Meetings, she says, that’s why she couldn’t have come sooner. You remember that she’s a school teacher. It’s easy to imagine what those meetings are about. Though, she doesn’t give you time to daydream about her, as she’s asking you questions.

“So Y/N, you’ve been here a week? Have you been enjoying your time here?” Fuyumi does your hair, extremely careful not to hurt you. She’s taken this responsibility from Rei for today. Rei’s been busy at the store and in the kitchen all day, leaving you with Fuyumi. You don’t mind that; she’s nice.

“It’s quiet.” You don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing, but it’s the truth.

Fuyumi takes it well, “That’s good. Mom picked out some good books for you, did she?”

The library in the Todoroki estate may be massive, but most of those books Rei says are too mature for you. She’s regulated you to books below your reading level. They’re for children younger than you. But she doesn’t like to watch television and the laptop they’ve provided has only been gathering dust.

“If I’m honest, they’re a little boring.”

Fuyumi chuckles, “She’s a little out of touch from reality at times. I’ll grab you some books you’ll probably like better. I used to do a lot of reading when I was your age.”

“What’d you read?”

“Romance, mostly.” Fuyumi admits, “occasionally fantasy. I wasn’t trying to read anything too dark and neither should you.”

Too dark. Too mature. You wonder where that threshold is for them. You suspect it’s a lot higher than most people’s standards. You don’t dwell on this thought too much longer. Finding faults in your caretaker’s lifestyle isn’t the best way to stay in their good graces.

“How was school this past year?” She rests both hands on your shoulders. She’s done with your hair, but she isn't letting you go. You could probably move her to get out, but there’s no need. Fuyumi is nice and interested in what you have to say. Why would you leave her?

“Alright.” You reply. Even if it isn’t the truth, you wouldn’t speak it, “Don’t know where I’m heading now, though. We’re too far from my old school.”

“Father mentioned Somei and Mom talked about homeschooling.” Fuyumi replies, “We’ll have to see which one concedes first.”

You can’t imagine Rei fighting Enji on anything, especially something as trivial as where to take you to school. Though, you’d prefer if she concedes. Homeschooling seems like a nightmare.

“Oh, alright.” You respond. There’s nothing else to say on the matter and you hope Fuyumi lets up soon because you don’t know what to talk about anymore. Almost like a savior, a knock is placed on your door. It isn’t as strong as Enji’s—Fuyumi and Rei don’t knock at all—so, you assume it’s one of the brothers.

Fuyumi calls out to the person on the other side for you, “Hold on!” She finally lets up to open the door. You fiddle with the edge of your dress. The tulle is a bit itchy, but the smooth, holographic hearts covering the entire dress provide a nice change of texture.

You look up to see a tall, white haired guy. He’s broad, built like Enji as opposed to Rei. Though, the rest of his features seem to come from her. He stands in the doorway looking at you, then back at Fuyumi—who’s back to holding you on your shoulders again, causing you to continue to sit still in the vanity’s stool.

He takes another look at you and your fingers fiddle with the dress more. He’s unnerving and hasn’t said a thing he walked in. You start to speak, but he looks up at Fuyumi and asks, “What kind of quirk bullshit has justified this?”

That’s not what you expected.

You think to object, no quirk stuff has happened here—at least, that you know of. Though, Fuyumi immediately comes to your defense, “Natsuo! You can’t just ask something like that! Have some respect.”

“Do you really expect there isn’t an ulterior motive behind this.” Natsuo replies, “You know how he is with quirks.”

“He’s gotten better!”

“Prove it.”

“Uhhh, Natsuo, sir.” You break up the siblings' argument, “No quirk stuff has happened, really.”

He grabs a hold of your arm, looking at it thoroughly before heading to the next one. You don’t know what he’s looking for. Bruises? Burns? Scars? You have none of them from your time here.

You wouldn’t have anything quirk related anyways—you’re quirkless.

“Is this the lie he’s told you to say?” Natsuo asks, “You aren’t going to be able to lie. I see through his bullshit.”

“Natsuo!”

You want this conversation to end. Natsuo’s and Fuyumi’s hands are both icy cold and you don’t like the attention. Plus their argument is painful to listen too, especially considering it’s about you.

“Natsuo, sir…” You say, “there’s no quirk… anything. Really! I don’t have a... quirk.”

He lets go of your arm and it drops to your side. He stands up again. Fuyumi lets your shoulders go, moving to your side.

“Hey, chin up kiddo!” Fuyumi replies, smiling her everbright smile, “there’s nothing wrong with that!”

You didn’t even realize you were staring at the ground, but your feet soon come into view through watery eyes. Fuyumi’s fingers wipe away the tear that slips through.

“Hey, sorry kid.” Natsuo’s hands are in the pocket of his jeans and his shoulders are raised, “I have the habit of assuming the worst.”

“It’s fine.” You reply, laughing through the soft tears, “I should be over it by now, anyways.”

“Let’s head out of here.” Fuyumi takes your hand, leading you out of your room, “Father should be bringing Sho home soon. He’ll just love you, he won't be able not to."

Despite the ominous nature of Fuyumi’s statement, you let yourself willingly be led to the living room. Besides, where else would you go, anyways?

___

Gratefully, the three of you leave your room. The room was getting tense between the sibling pair. You don’t want to be the reason they fight, do you? They always look so close in the photos on the wall—even if nobody looks happy in those photos.

Natsuo leads the way. He walks with his shoulders back and his head held high. He has confidence, something you’ve started to lack now that you’re around all these powerful quirk users. You feel the cool air radiating from in between him and Fuyumi. She walks right behind you. If you stopped, she’d crash right into her.

But you don’t stop. You walk down the hallway and head towards the living room. There, two figures step in through the door. The first is the boy with half red hair, half white hair. The photos on the wall show him to be significantly younger and without the bright red scar covering one eye. He wears U.A.’s school uniform. One of the old children in your last home went there as well. The other person is Enji. He’s in his hero uniform still—flames and all.

Before anyone can say anything, Natsuo speaks up, “Father’s not using her. I already asked. She’s quirkless.”

He doesn’t say it in a negative way, but him bringing it up at all stings. You’re inadequate compared to them. They all scream of powerful quirks, but you don’t even have a quirk to begin with.

And now, you’re getting the suspicion that quirks are what this family truly cares about. Which leaves you in a terrible position—quirkless, surrounded by powerhouses.

“Alright.” Shoto deadpans, then slips his shoes and coat off. A cool wind blows in from outside, but it’s no different than standing between the cold Todoroki children.

Enji asks his sons, “Do you really think so low of me?”

“Yes.” Natsuo and Shoto reply instantly.

Luckily, Rei comes to your rescue, guiding you to a seat at the kitchen table. Whilst they talked, she set everyone’s plates wordlessly. She cooked this meal for everyone and you feel a slight pang of guilt, knowing that six mouths is a lot to cook for. You had smaller homes than that, which sometimes saw it too tiring to cook for their size. And Rei cooked a lot—much more than she’s cooked for the other meals you’ve had here.

Your plate is filled. You can’t imagine that you’ll eat all of this, but you’ll eat as much as you can. You wouldn’t want to make Rei sad, now would you?

“Thank you Rei, for dinner.” You reply, before taking a bite. As you sigh in pleasure, Rei’s other children echo their thanks. The food is so good that you block out all sound in order to focus upon it.

“Y/N, are you there?” Fuyumi jokes from her seat beside you.

“Oh! Uh, yeah.” You exclaim, then ask, “Did you need something?”

“Father just asked how your day was.” Fuyumi replies.

You tell him, “It was good.” He sits at the head of the table, just like last time. You don’t sit next to him, Fuyumi does. You sit directly one seat to the left than the seat you’ve been sitting in. You don’t mind, especially because to the other side of you is the one brother you’ve barely heard speak: Shoto.

He looks at you—he’s watching you. You can see him do it out of the corner of your eye. It’s unnerving to say the least. But you put your head down and continue eating, making sure to pay attention. Luckily, they don’t ask you too many questions. Most of the attention is on Shoto and Natsuo. They’ve returned home—the family all together, Rei calls it. You don’t ask about the other boy in the photos. He’s obviously not a part of the family anymore.

“May I be excused?” You ask as soon as you're finished eating, not keen to just sit there and listen to their conversations.

Enji doesn’t hold you back this time, giving you a silent nod. You take your plate to the kitchen and then head to your room, making sure not to bother them anymore. You don’t want to be seen as a bother anymore than you already are, do you?

#platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere bnha #reader insert #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #yandere todoroki family #yandere todoroki clan

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rivers-rambles21 · 4 years ago

Text

The one with the surprise

Part 5 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming (later chapters)

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

“C’mon, where are you taking me doll?”

Bucky trailed behind you, his feet dragging as he continued to moan about your late night adventure. You’d lured him out with a promise of pizza but as you exited the train in Queens, his mood had turned sour.

“Not much further, I promise” You waited for him to catch up and looped your arm through his. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Pineapple on pizza comes to mind” He muttered, eyes darting around the quiet street.

With a sigh you dug into your purse and retrieved your secret weapon “I’ll give you these if you stop whining” You shook the bag of cashews you’d picked up from the store in front of his face before swiftly moving it from his grasp. “Nope! Hey!” Bucky had made a grab for the bag but you’d quickly anticipated his move and spun on the spot, taking it out of reach.

As you turned, Bucky’s arm moved with you, pulling him into your back as you bent over in an attempt to stop him from getting his snack.

You laughed as he snaked his arm around your side, pulling you flush against him as he tried to take the bag from you, his fingers brushing your sides in an attempt to tickle you.

With a jolt, your ass pressed back into him in a vain attempt to free yourself from his grasp. You both stilled as your behind pressed into his crotch, acutely aware of just what you were feeling. Bucky was the first to act and swiftly removed his arms from around you, glancing around in embarrassment.

Standing straight, you adjusted your dress which had become dislodged. “Shall we?” You asked, trying to act as though nothing happened.

“Yep.” He responded, a bit too quickly.

To try and ease the tension, you ripped open the bag of nuts. “Here” You threw one toward him which he caught with his mouth effortlessly. “Thanks doll”

You smiled back and looped your arm back into his, directing him down the road.

A few minutes later you arrived at your destination and you held your breath as you both looked up at the building.

“What do you think?”

Bucky simply glanced down and smiled at you, his white teeth catching the light from the street lights.

“This is one of the very few perks I get with my job, I figured who better to enjoy it with?”

“How do we get in?” Bucky asked, pulling you towards the doors at the front.

“Security will let us in, they’ll be doing the odd patrol as standard but apart from that, we’ll have the place to ourselves”

“Y/n… this is incredible”

“Yeah well… I knew you wouldn’t come here because of the crowds and I didn’t want you to miss out.”

You’d brought him to the New York Hall of Science in Queens way past closing time. After dedicating to a ridiculous amount of unpaid overtime, your boss had finally relented and given you access to the contacts who ran the museum. Using your company's connections, you’d manage to swindle full exclusive access to the museum for the entire night.

Over the past few months you’d picked up on Bucky’s interests, one of them being technology. Despite spending most of the last 70 years in a big freezer, he loved technology of the modern age, often speaking of the projects Shuri was working on in Wakanda.

You spent the next hour or so strolling around the many exhibits, reading up on each subject and interacting with the activities throughout the building. Bucky didn’t know where to look next, each section of the museum peaking his interest more and more.

“Okay so I may have one more surprise for you” You confessed as you gently steered him towards the theatre.

Bucky remained silent as he felt himself become overwhelmed. He was genuinely touched by the thought you’d put into the entire evening, slightly bewildered why you even bothered with him in the first place. He knew he could be hard work, he often spent days being a miserable bastard, responding with only sarcasm. Yet you stuck around and got to know him and his quirks. Heck the two of you had gotten that close you knew how he’d been eager to pay a visit to the museum but hadn’t due to the worry of being recognised.

He’d now stopped kidding himself and accepted he felt something more than friendship for you. At first he brushed his feelings off as purely physical as afterall it had been over 70 years since he’d been with a woman and he’s not blind. Everything you did drove him insane. It took all his self control to stop himself from kissing you senseless every time you hung out.

The closer you both got, the deeper he fell for you. He tried his best to find fault with you but he came up short every time.

He loved how easy you were to talk to, how you never pushed him too far or tried to change him into something he’s not. He loved how selfless you were, always thinking of others before yourself. He also loved how thoughtful you were, constantly coming up with plans or ideas on what you both could do so he wasn’t cooped up in his apartment all day.

Bucky had fallen hard.

“Now we do have other options if you’re not feeling it but I thought we could watch the original Dracula!”

Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile as you looked up at him with excitement etched across your face. All he wanted to do was kiss you.

“So what do you think?” You asked, waiting for his response.

“I think you’re incredible.” You beamed up at him and led him into the quiet theatre which was housed within the museum.

“Grab a seat and I’ll be right back”

Bucky nodded in response and picked one of the seats in the middle of the empty theatre, pulling his phone out as he did. He flicked through some of the pictures you had both taken throughout the evening, landing on the one of you both in the space exhibit. He’d bent down to your level for the photo to be taken, your arms not quite long enough to get you both in frame otherwise. You’d flashed a smile for the photo, leaning back into him, pressing your face against his as he did his best to pose for the photo. It had been a long time that he’d had a photo taken that wasn’t linked to a crime. Smiling to himself, he updated his settings and set it to his background.

The lights then dimmed and the screen changed as the movie began. A moment later the door swung open and closed as you entered the theatre, your shoes stomping down the isles as you raced over to Bucky, eager to get there before the film started.

“I remember seeing this when it first came out.” Bucky confessed, a small smile gracing his face as he recalled the memory. “Me and Steve snuck in shortly after it started, we were too broke and young to get in on our own. He was so worried we’d get caught he spent the entire movie watching the door.”

You laughed along with him, struggling to imagine the Captain America you’d seen on the news sneaking into a movie theatre. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the blanket you had brought with you and covered you both in it, sinking into the warmth it gave as the movie began.

Although it was a horror, you both couldn't help but laugh at some of the scenes, special effects had come a long way since the 30’s.

The evening had gone exactly as planned. You’d wanted to do something special for Bucky for a while, knowing he didn’t venture out much due to the large crowds making him a bit uneasy.

Your friends at work had teased you about it after they heard the hoops you had jumped through to pull the entire thing off; knowing you wouldn’t put in so much effort for someone you regarded as just a friend.

You’d wanted your relationship with Bucky to develop into something more for a while now; you couldn’t deny the attraction you had with him and the bond that had developed. Deep down though, you knew he had a lot going on that he needed to work through and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. You heard his tortured screams on a night as the nightmares took a hold of him. You never brought it up but you saw how it affected him. The dark circles under his eyes were always a dead give away.

Although your body craved something more with him, you were content on leaving things how they were. You genuinely enjoyed spending time with him and wouldn’t risk losing it.

It was the early morning when you both left the museum, having thoroughly enjoyed yourselves. Due to the late hour you agreed on hailing a taxi and sat in comfortable silence on the journey home as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Begrudgingly you watched as Bucky paid the driver as you reached your apartment building and accepted his hand as he helped you out of the cab.

“Thank you for tonight”

“Don’t mention it” You replied as you entered the empty elevator, pressing the button for your floor.

“The last person who did anything like that for me was Steve” He confessed as he rubbed the gold markings on his vibranium hand, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

“You’re making me blush Serg” The nickname slipped out without you realising and you glanced a peak over at the man beside you.

He simply shook his head, grinning to himself as he followed you out of the elevator.

#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #ao3 #tfatws #fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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astro-rain · 4 years ago

Text

delicate; b. barnes

chapter nine- “to have or not to have indoor plumbing”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: no fallout shelter is perfect. sometimes you need to think outside the box... or outside the bunker, that is.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: what did you think of this chapter? what do you want to see next? PLS let me know! :))

Light did not shine through the windows and cast a bronze glow on the floor like it did in the castle quarters. He didn't hear the soft buzz of the cicadas like he usually did in the morning. He didn't wake to an empty room with familiar beautiful Wakandan tapestries.

This was because Bucky Barnes awoke in an underground shelter with no windows, stone reinforced walls, and a sleeping psychologist in the bed next to him. Somehow... this wasn't that bad.

He woke up before her, as to be expected. His body was pretty much programmed to be up in the early morning. That, and any time he slept for too long his mind conjured up remnants of horrors from the past.

The super soldier stood up from the bed and stretched his back and arm. It was quiet. A relaxed, enjoyable quiet. Y/N was still sleeping. He wondered what time it was. He didn't have a watch, and he didn't see any clocks in the bunker. He assumed she probably had her phone, but he wouldn't wake her just to ask the time.

He glanced around the room, and his eyes landed on the panther key. Perhaps he could go outside for a bit, gauge the time, scope out the area, get some sun. He never was overly enthusiastic about the sun, but since being in Wakanda, he had grown to love the warmth.

Warmth was a welcome change from the brutalizing cold Hydra put in his bones. Cold was past agony and torment, but warmth. Warmth was the rich, golden promise of remedy that gleamed on his skin.

Just thinking about it made him yearn for the outside sun and the way it enveloped his skin in amber rays. It felt safe here.

Usually, he couldn't stop his mind from worrying and expecting all the good in his life to somehow crash down around him. However, he couldn’t help but feel safe in Wakanda, no matter what he did. He felt safe in Wakanda and with Y/N, even though they were in a bunker hiding from a country's takeover-

"Bucky?" A raspy voice called out.

He turned around, not realizing he had walked over to the table, where the panther key was sitting. It looked just as regal and ferocious as it did before.

"G'Morning," he smiled.

She sat up on her elbows, avoiding hitting her head on the top bunk.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked. "Nightmares still?"

"Last night wasn't bad," he shrugged. "Still... there, but I got some decent hours in."

"That's good," Y/N yawned. "I'd like to work more on the nightmares soon. See if we can find any improvement. But don't worry, no 'Interpretation of Dreams' shit because I refuse to dignify most Freudian theories."

He let out a breathy chuckle. Sometimes Y/N would go into what he, in his head, called her silly psychologist speech. She would momentarily forget that Bucky wasn't an academic, and use big words to talk about things he'd never even heard of. Sometimes she would slip into psychologist mode when she wasn't "on duty."

"Are we movin' the sessions out here now?" he joked.

"Damn," she snickered. "My bad. No more psych talk in here, I promise."

"It's alright, I don't mind," he shrugged. "S'just you bein' you."

"I guess. I don't know to be anyone else, so."

“I would expect nothing less of you.”

Y/N then moved the blanket off of her legs to stand up out of the bed, just before stopping short, staring at the bed she was sitting on. He could almost see the gears turning in her head.

"Did I make the bed last night in a frenzy of exhaustion and not remember it?"

He laughed. "No."

She furrowed her brows and cocked her head to the side, confused and waiting for an explanation.

"I made it - well, as best as I could... all things considered."

Her face changed, melting into an endearing look of gratitude.

"Thank you Buck," she smiled. "Way better than sleeping on the floor."

She didn't say anything else regarding it, and he was glad. What she didn't know was that he put her in the bed after he made it. She was so exhausted, he didn't want to wake her. The task proved itself exceptionally challenging with one arm. However, super soldier strength and determination was a worthy advantage.

"Do you know what time it is?" he asked.

"Umm," she dragged out, finally standing up from the bed. "Not sure, I'll have to find my phone and- oh shit"

"What?"

"I don't have a charger."

"Oh. I'll uh look around and see if there's one stored down here."

Y/N stood still and looked around the room. Her eyes landed on the space heater and her expression dropped.

"Bucky..."

"What's wrong?"

"Do you remember what I said yesterday about the heater?"

"Not... really. Jog my memory?"

She quoted herself. "I doubt they could get electric or plumbing out here."

"Oh yeah," he still wasn't following.

"There's no shower down here... or toilet..."

He looked around and it hit him. "Oh."

"That's..." she trailed off, "a bit inconvenient."

He saw her begin to fidget with her hands.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked. "We can't like... pee in buckets or something."

Bucky scratched the stubble on his face, about to suggest something he knew she wouldn't like.

"Well, before you woke up, I was thinkin' about going outside to get an idea of the time and maybe get some sun. We can go out and see if we can find a fresh water source or something. It's not perfect, but it's better than buckets."

"Outside? Is that not dangerous?"

"Danger is a possibility, but we're pretty far out from the castle grounds. I doubt anyone comes out this far or even knows about the shelter."

She took a deep breathe in. "I don't know..."

He could hear the uncertainty and weariness in her voice.

"If you're not comfortable, I can just go look and come back, tell you if it's safe, if there's water nearby," he offered.

"No. I'm going with you."

"I thought-"

"You’re not going alone. I'll grab my shoes and we can go."

Well then.

"As you wish, oh wise one."

"Smartass."

He grabbed the panther key and tossed it to her with a smile.

"So... how does one locate a water source?" Y/N asked, her footsteps beside Bucky's.

The Wakandan sun beat down on them. They'd only been walking for a few minutes, and they were already sweating.

"Keep an eye out for mud. If the ground is wet, chances are there's water nearby."

She nodded.

"Hey," she smirked, "Have you ever heard of Bear Grylls?"

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"No, but I have a feeling whatever that is is being used to poke fun at me?"

She huffed in a fake gasp, feigning over-exaggerated shock. "I'd never do such a thing!"

"Hey! I'm doing this so we don't have to pee in buckets. A teeny tiny bit of gratitude would go a long way."

"Apologies. Please accept my most heartfelt thanks, my dear old friend."

"Who you callin' old?"

"I don't know, does a hundred seem old to you?"

"You know, it’s disrespectful to mock the elderly,” he fake scolded.

"Yeah, well don't disrespect your mental healthcare provider."

"I didn't! You started-"

"Water!" she shouted, cutting him off. “Look!”

In front of Y/N's pointed finger was the end of a tiny stream. The source was somewhere ahead of them. And so they followed, continuing their trek beneath the sun's sweltering rays. It really was oppressively hot.

"Holy..." Bucky muttered.

"Shit," Y/N finished.

He gave her a look and he she shrugged, fighting off a laugh.

They stood facing a beautiful scene: a modest waterfall flowed over mossy stone and poured out into a little pool of crystal clear water. It was quaint and secluded, surrounded by rocks and trees. This was wonderfully fortuitous for the two of them as they were still technically in hiding. The pool of water was relatively shallow; he could see the bottom, but it was still deep enough to submerge his whole body and them some. The pressure from the waterfall looked mild enough to go under; perhaps it could act as a makeshift shower.

"This definitely works. Much better than buckets," Y/N commented.

Then she began to untie her boots, take off her socks, and sit with her feet in the water.

"Holy hell it's hot," she groaned, wiping a hand across her forehead. He noticed that she had been squinting for the last couple of minutes. "Buck, do you know if the water is clean to drink or swim in?"

"Why don't you taste test it? Then we'll know for sure."

She turned her head to him, an emotionless expression on her face.

"I don't give a damn about the super serum, I can and will drown you, Barnes."

A laugh came from deep in his chest. "I'm just playin'. The water looks fine, you should be good."

She cupped her hands to scoop up some of the water and threw it at him.

"Hey!"

"Aw, you look so refreshed now," she cooed sarcastically.

"That was uncalled for."

"Perhaps. Hey, how long until we have to go back?"

"We're not really on a set schedule. Whenever you're ready, I guess. It's not like we have things to do."

"Do I have time to like dunk real quick? It's deathly hot and I don't wanna walk back in this heat."

Dunk in the water? There are no swim suits here...

"Oh-uh... uh y-yeah, do you want me to like... wait over there-or-“

"I’m goin’ in with my clothes on,” she deadpanned. Straight and to the point, like she didn’t want any type of confusion about the situation.

“Oh,” he breathed. “You’d rather walk back in soaked clothes?”

“Yes.”

"I mean sure, knock yourself out. But be careful, some parts look pretty deep."

"I'm know how to swim, Buck,” she smiled. “Don’t fret.”

He hummed an "okay," before looking around the entire waterfall area. Instinctively, he started walking the perimeter, making sure they would be safe. He didn't know how he hadn't done it sooner. He must've been distracted.

The soldier made his way through trees and over rocks until he returned to the spot facing the center of the waterfall pool. He watched as Y/N's head slowly ascended from the water. She opened her eyes, and as her gaze found him, confusion washed over her face.

"Bucky, aren't you hot?"

"I mean, it’s warm, but I think I'm more useful out keepin' watch."

"Are you sure?" she laughed, tossing more water at him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, clumsily trying to jump and dodge out of the way of the water flinging at him.

Y/N shamelessly continued. "The water's just fine! It's so refreshing and cooooool!"

Bucky's attempts at dodging the water were very much in vain. Soon enough his grey shirt had splatters of Wakandan waterfall water all over it.

He only laughed some more. "Come on! You're comprising our security!"

She stopped.

"Wait- I'm sorry. Am I actually?"

His breathing slowed, but his smile remained. "No, it's okay. I just think it's safer for at least one of us to stay out and be aware. I can go in next time."

"Okay," she frowned.

At the edge of the water, closest to grass, the ground descended into layers, creating a sort of makeshift staircase that sloped into the pool. Y/N floated over to the stairs, and leaned her elbows on the second highest step so that the water settled just below her shoulders. He watched as her legs floated straight up behind her, and each edge of her clothing moved up and down languidly in the water as if they were breathing with its movement.

In response, Bucky sat down at the waters edge, removing his own shoes and socks, rolling up his pant legs and resting his feet in the pool.

"There, now we're meetin' in the middle."

Y/N spared a gentle smile.

"Buck," she asked softly, "can I ask you a question?"

His brows furrowed at the sudden change in tone. "Mm hm."

He was expecting some kind of serious question, but instead, he watched yet another mischievous smirk grow across her face.

"Don't you have to pee?"

He rolled his eyes, and splashed her with as much water as he could cup in his hand. Y/N let out a burst of loud, boisterous laughter, wiping the water from her eyes.

"Why, do you?! Do I have to worry about feeling some warm water!!"

"No! I already went..."

"Oh, ew!" he howled with laughter.

"Not like that! I did it behind a tree while you were makin' your rounds."

"Well thank you for not christening our only clean water source."

"You are quite welcome, James Buchanan Barnes."

His brain slowed at the sound of his full name. He almost didn't feel the barely-there smile that turned the sides of his mouth up ever so slightly. Time became lazy, and his line of sight came to a leisurely stop directly at Y/N's face.

He got a good look at the reflective water droplets all over her skin, and the way some were falling off while others stayed perfectly still. He got a good look at how her waterlogged eye lashes stuck together in bigger clumps, making darker shades of black that contrasted her eye color, and how her wet hair was slicked back and flowed down her neck. He got a good look at the teeny tiny drops of waterfall that settled in her eyebrows, and how he had only been this close to her very few times before.

He couldn't tell why, but he wanted to take a mental snapshot of this moment. The charming imperfection of her was so genuine, so endearing, so alluring. He found himself having a hard time finding the motivation to look away. He must be tired or something.

He hadn’t noticed how still she was as well. But then, gradually, her smile went away, and her face was replaced with a neutral but poised expression. She slowly floated back from him, putting space between them.

"Can we go back now?" she asked. "I think the sun is giving me a headache."

"Y-Yeah, 'fcourse," he said, unprepared to do anything but fulfill her request.

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westwingwolf · 4 years ago

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In this post, I go into a long, defensive character/ship study for reflection after New Blood so for the sake of not clogging the tag and anyone who doesn’t want to see it or doesn’t want to be spoiled, it’s under the cut.

I think if you are looking for Tim to apologize for some of those early days, you are going to be disappointed. At least for a while. Because Tim sees a lot of what he did as practical training methods he’d use on any other rookie. Whether that’s right or wrong in your opinion, doesn’t matter. It’s how Tim sees it and therefore how the writers intend for him to see it. For all else, any time Tim crossed a line: he was called out, acknowledged it himself, apologized and/or thanked Lucy for her help.

A lot of those things were what Tim was going to do to any rookie if he thought that was the type of training the rookie needed. Tim says he is a show type of guy. He isn’t just going to tell a rookie the wrong or right method. He is going to create a scenario in which they learn it the hard way but in a safe, controlled environment. He was going to kick Jackson out of the car if he got the answer wrong, but Jackson got it right. And when he realized Jackson needed a different type of training to help him get over his fear of gunfire or quit or else Angela would get fired, he changed his tactics. And both times literally end up saving his own life. Lucy knew exactly where she was when she radioed that Tim had been shot. Jackson ran down the armed guy shooting at Tim because Tim said if he couldn’t get into the fight to stay in the car, so Jackson found a way around that.

The way Lucy words it, it doesn’t sound like she believes that Tim tormented her all through the job. Just that first day (well, and the second but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that those first 2 shifts can be treated like a first day) and some time after. Because the next thing she mentioned as a month later is the bathroom incident. That happened the day Tim came back to work after being shot. In between time which she spent an entire shift with Officer Wrigley(?) who was nice and treated her like a rockstar, and was boring because he wouldn’t take interesting calls. She is stuck with that until Tim questions if she is just going to let a criminal get away when she can do something about it. She called him a pain in her ass which he responded was the job. In that moment you can see that Lucy is not going to back down, and that Tim sees this as how to best train her. Their reactions of each other shows a mutual understanding of the other and the start of an acceptance. And maybe Tim does torment Lucy a little all through the job just to keep her on her toes.

As to the bathroom incident: in Amber, Harper made a point of saying how important it is to find a proper bathroom so that’s obviously something they teach at the academy or veterans learn through experience. And Lucy knew to secure the bathroom which she did. Just not enough. And Tim knew that would probably happen so he took advantage of that. Just as he would if any other rookie who needed that type of training had done that. This happened before he got the call about Isabel. The things he did after, intentionally starting a fight with the biker gang, that was out of line because he was upset about Isabel. And Lucy called him out on that. Just as she has done every time since Tim has stepped over the line.

I don’t believe Lucy actually gets triggered when she walks into a shoe store. Exaggeration to prove a point through humor. I laughed anyways. Especially since I’m sure the things that actually trigger Lucy are more like complete darkness and locked in confined, tight places. Does he say boot more than anyone else? Yes. Does that change depending on the outward image Tim is trying to convey? Also yes. The hardass Tim was those first few days/weeks/months (depending on which timeline we are going with) is not who he truly is. And Lucy knows that. She sticks up for him more than anyone. She calls him out on his shit, but also reminds him he is a good person. That side of him only comes back out when he truly fears not being tough will cause a setback. Such as when he yelled at her for having something in her gun hand other than her gun after Chris was shot and his TO pointed out that he told him how to proceed and his rookie didn’t listen. And Lucy wasn’t even mad at Tim about that because by then she knows him and what he is like. All her anger was at Emmett for stepping in where he shouldn’t. Because Lucy can handle herself, and she can handle Tim. Which Tim knows perfectly well and has said so. If Lucy was truly so upset by all that Tim has done, she wouldn’t insist that they are friends. Yes, she was eager to get out of training, but she also took the time to ensure that they had proper acknowledgment as to the closure of her training. And an acceptance that they would be friends from this point on was admitted by both of them in that “see you tomorrow.”

I’ll grant you the lessons can go overboard, but they actually work. When Lucy was in that bomber’s house after he set a bomb, she told Harper to get clear of the house and radio for help. Why? Because she learned that radio frequencies can sometimes set off bombs. She never forgot that lesson. And used it as payback for Tim later so double bonus.

So here is where Lucy can differ from any other rookie trained the same way by Tim. She learned those lessons and remembers them later when she is more or less by herself. It’s not just something that can be told and hope you remember when the necessary time comes. It is something lived through experience, again in a safer and more controlled environment, that she remembers. Maybe not all rookies would, but she did. And where she differs is how she gets Tim back anytime she feels he needs payback: stealing his money clip, giving him her bar tab as an evaluation, giving him his own powder bomb, etc. Things no other rookie would dare try, and he lets her get away with it. Because I think he actually likes that he found someone who can match his diabolical ways. Honestly, if these two weren’t such good people at heart, they’d pair up to be the world’s greatest supervillains.

Jackson called Lucy out on why would she want Tim to torment someone else if she hated how he treated her. So either she didn’t have that big of a problem with it or she doesn’t like the implication that it was something wrong about her that Tim felt warranted that kind of treatment. Yes, Lucy needs praise. She has always needed praise. Especially from authority figures. (Yes, I know the implications of that from a shipping POV, but if you are already shipping Chenford, you’re either ignoring it or waiting until it’s no longer an issue or both.) It’s clear from her relationship with her parents that she at first tried to get it from them. That’s why she studied psychology. To please them. And once she found what she wanted and stuck with it, she thought they’d be happy for her and she’d get that praise but she didn’t. She is still looking for it in her life. So she looks at this situation as there must have been something wrong with her and somehow the new rookie is better. Which Tim disproves. It wasn’t about her being less than; it’s about her being different and needing different training tactics. And her differences are actually things Lucy values, and Tim values too (clearly as he is tried to get Barnes to see policing as helping people and not as engaging enemy combatants. Plus take a look at how Tim treats people in the community even ones he previously arrested. He still tries to help them.) But Tim recognizes Lucy also needed a different perspective even if her perspective still ultimately wins out. Which Lucy acknowledges in Resolutions. She still chooses to be a cop in her own way. She still values empathy and compassion first and foremost. Seeing the world as the scary place it can be just rounds out her perspective, but it doesn’t overwhelm it. And Tim stopped pushing that perspective after Lucy found out just how scary the world can be. Because Lucy has been though all of that, gained perspective but still stayed true to herself, she is a good cop. Again, something Tim acknowledged. He disavowed her of the idea that she was somehow less, explained his position, and complimented her with probably the highest compliment he could give someone: the respect of being a good cop.

That difference in how Tim & Lucy approach things is what made them such a great partnership. Tim sees things with suspicion first, compassion second. While Lucy is compassion first, suspicion second. They both quickly adapt to either, but also help the other with finding the necessary POV. So they hardly ever miss anything because if one doesn’t see it, the other will. They are complimentary but not so stubborn in their own initial POVs that they force the issue making things worse. If one is passionate in their belief, the other will follow their decision.

So here is my point: whatever they went through before, good and bad, does not have a drastic effect on discouraging their friendship (and possibly romantic relationship). All of that is more or less fond (okay not so fond) memories. They understand each other, have forgiven each other (Lucy more than Tim because Tim crossed more lines), accepted their faults, encouraged each other, acknowledged each other, and basically formed a lasting bond that is more than TO/rookie and even more than most friendships can be lucky to have. Perhaps even more than most romantic relationships get. And frankly, holding any past mistakes over each other’s head to the point of disgruntlement would not lead to a healthy relationship. Which is why I don’t think Lucy truly holds what Tim did against him. I think it was as it appeared: wondering why the new rookie was treated differently and if that is a reflection on her. Which it wasn’t in any negative way. But to make her point about the differences, Lucy had to list the ways Tim handled everything in their early days. And to make his point, Tim clearly explains the differences and what necessitates that difference. An apology for any of that would negate the point he was making. If Lucy was truly upset in any lasting way, she wouldn’t have immediately worried about Barnes, and she wouldn’t have been so happy at Tim’s compliment.

Will Tim ever apologize for the early days? Maybe. Maybe not. Does he need to? I don’t think so. Not for me anyways. Because Tim is a show me type of guy, and he has shown Lucy in so many ways how much he values her. And Lucy has shown that that means more to her than anything.

#chenford #Tim Bradford #Lucy Chen #Lucy x Tim #The Rookie #the rookie theory

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pappydaddy · 4 years ago

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Make-up (s.h.)

A/N: I am finally being able to start writing more (slowly but surely)! This is a request sent in by the lovely @secretjellyfishpolice (I love your profile pic by the way lovely!!). I love writing Steve x Henderson!reader stuff purely because I love Dustin and Steve’s relationship! This might be a little short, but I just thought it should end there, felt like it would be better. Sidenote: I had absolutely no idea what to name this... So, thank you so much for your request and I hope you like it💛!

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!fem!reader

fandom: stranger things

requested

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

warnings: fluff. good dustin and steve content. slightly suggestive, mentions of sex.

- not my gif -

For as long as Y/N could remember, her dream was to go to Cosmetology school to learn how to professionally do make-up. Her mother always told stories of how Y/N just couldn’t stay out of her make-up when she was a baby. Unfortunately, her mother told those stories to everyone who would give her the time-of-day to tell the said stories. No matter how embarrassing the stories and the pictures that came along with the stories were, they helped Y/N realize what she wanted to do with her life after high school.

When the day came that her mother had yet again pulled out the photo album loaded with the embarrassing photos to show Y/N’s now (much more) serious boyfriend Steve Harrington, she had decided to finally take the plunge and apply for the Cosmetology school a thirty-minute commute away. It was in the city, sure, but it was very prestigious and close enough for her to still live at home if she managed to get accepted. Steve was the ever-loving boyfriend through the entire application process, offering to help hold the light so she could take the required photos of her make-up skills (that she had used her mother as a model for) to send with her application. But his support didn’t end there.

“I am sure your acceptance letter is on its way right now, stop pacing and come sit down,” Steve tried to calm his pacing girlfriend down as she just about wore a path in the carpet in front of the door. “Come on, Sunshine, I bet your legs are exhausted from all that walking back and forth.” He spoke as he patted the couch cushion beside him.

She stopped her pacing, looking up at him as she wrung her hands together. “I’m too nervous to sit,” She shook her head, resuming her pacing. Steve remained silent, simply looking at her. He knew her, he knew that in any given moment she would rush over to the couch and worry from sitting down. Sure enough, with a final over-dramatic one-eighty whirl, she scampered to the couch. Sitting on her knees, she completely faced Steve with her eyes wide. “Why do you think it’s taking so long? It should have arrived by now, shouldn’t it have? Maybe they are trying to figure out the best way to let me down? That’s probably why it’s taking so long! They are trying to tell me that I suck without making me want to run through a wall-”

“Y/N, darling. You know how the postal service is in Hawkins, it’s complete shit! It’s probably sitting in a mailbag attached to some mailman taking yet another forty-minute coffee break and talking about everyone behind their back with the other mailmen that should be working.” Steve rambled, resting one of his hands on hers, shifting to prop one leg up and face her. His elbow propped up on the back of the couch, resting the side of his head against his closed fist.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” She sighed, slumping back slightly as she relaxed. Steve once again watched her, knowing that her mind was still racing and that it wouldn’t stop until she held that letter in her hand. She suddenly stiffened up again, sitting up straight as her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Steve wasn’t startled by the sudden action, only blinking and trying to hold back his smile. She was too cute in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean they don’t think I suck though.”

“They don’t think you suck,” Steve reassured her gently. “And if they do, they are clearly blind since you are the best damn make-up artist ever. Seriously, I am always amazed. You work wonders.” He praised her, boosting her confidence. She smiled at him, her body finally relaxing to the point where Steve knew that she would be relaxed for at least a few minutes. That was until she spotted the mail carrier walking towards the mailbox from the window.

“He’s here!” She jumped out, this time scaring Steve out of his mind, He jumped in his spot, his hand flying up to his chest in an attempt to calm his wildly beating heart. Taking deep breaths, Steve stood from the couch.

“Give the man a chance to get to the mailbox before you trample him.” Steve told her, watching the man lazily shift through the disorganized mail. Y/N surprisingly listened to him, dancing around on her tiptoes to try and peer out one of the three triangle-shaped windows at the top of her door.

“Is he gone yet,” She asked, rolling back down to her flat feet, unable to see out the windows. Steve shook his head, stretching his arms and legs as he watched the man add envelopes to the mailbox one by one. “God,” She let out a dramatic groan, slumping her shoulders over. “What is taking him so damn long?”

“By the looks of things, he decided to skip the part where he pre-sort the mail,” Steve observed. “There, he’s done-” He didn’t even get to finish his statement before she yanked the door open and took off down the driveway, not even caring that she was running into the crisp air of late August in her thin socks. “You could have at least put shoes on!” He called after her, standing in the open door.

“I got it! I got it! It’s here!” She ignored him, smashing the mailbox door closed before racing back up the driveway, nearly bowling Steve over to get back into the house. Steve kicked the door closed, following her back into the living room. She threw the other mail on the coffee table, not caring about the assortment of bills and junk mail. Steve settled back on the couch, his knee bouncing as he waited impatiently for her to open the letter she inspected with awe.

“Well, come on, don’t leave a guy hanging here,” Steve spoke up after he watched her flip the envelope for the second time. “Open it and see if you got in!”

She followed his instructions, using the letter opener she had placed on the coffee table weeks ago to tear along the fold of the envelope. Her nerves were overridden with impatience as she pulled the tri-folded paper out. The empty envelope fluttered to the carpeted floor by her feet, but she paid it no mind, too busy unfolding the letter. “I got in!” She screamed, turning to Steve, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped in shock.

“You got in!” He yelled back, shooting up from the couch once again, his arms open wide, his eyes just as bright and excited as Y/N’s.

“I got in!” She repeated, stepping onto the coffee table before launching herself into Steve’s arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. The force of her body flinging towards him knocked him off balance enough to send him falling back to the couch. His head lulled to rest on the back of the couch, his eyes set on the excited girl still clinging to him, the corner of the letter digging into the back of his neck little, but he didn’t mind.

�� “I told you that you would!” He reminded her. She pulled her head from his neck, peering down at him with sparkling eyes, he assumed it was from the excitement of getting into her dream school, but he didn’t know it was because of all the love she felt for him.

“You did, didn’t you?” She asked, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She was beyond thankful that she had managed to find someone that believed in her even when she didn’t believe in herself.

“Just to prove how proud I am of you, I will gladly loan my face to you for practice anytime,” He suggested, tapping her nose. She scrunched it up, pulling away from his finger. “All you have to do is ask.”

____

Steve did mean his words with his whole heart, but when a few weeks passed without her taking him up, he had thought she didn’t want to. It wasn’t until two weeks before she started school that he was proven wrong. “Steve!” She called in a sing-song voice, skipping through the house in search of her boyfriend. Her shopping bag swung by her side as she skipped through her living room into her room. Instantly, she spotted Steve laying on her bed on his back, tossing a slinky back and forth, giggling lightly to himself at the noise it made.

“What’s up, Sunshine,” He asked, not taking his eyes off the metal slinky, still pushing it back and forth. She hopped onto the bed, causing her and him to bounce. Dropping the bag between him and the slinky, she obscured his view as she practically vibrated with excitement. He oohed at the bag, not seeing the label on the other side of it. “Did you go to the naughty store to get me a present?”

She scoffed as he sat up, moving to dive his hands into the bag, thinking that was exactly what she had done. “You wish,” She commented, flipping the bag around so that he could see the store logo. He pouted in disappointment when he realized that it wasn’t from the dirty store. “I had to go get some supplies for school because they want us to get used to these specific products before the first day.”

“Okay?” Steve questioned, looking into the bag. He saw a bunch of make-up products that he wouldn’t even try to figure out what they were. Y/N had tried to explain the different things, but he just could not get the hang of it.

“Well, I can’t possibly get used to them without a model,” She pointed out, snatching the bag back from him. “You told me that I could use your face, all I had to do was as and this is me asking.” She bounced on her knees, her hands pressing against Steve’s side to shake him lightly.

“I did say that and I always stay true to my word,” He agreed, smiling as she clapped happily, cheering. She scrambled off the bed and over to her desk. “But I am really disappointed you didn’t go to the dirty store.” He added in, standing from her bed and plopping himself in her vanity chair, the slinky still in his hand. She plucked the slinky out of his hand, tossing it to the bed before resuming to unpack her make-up.

“If you behave, maybe we can go together tomorrow.” She bargained, clipping his hair back from his face. He nodded eagerly, making her laugh as she reached behind her for some primer.

“Make sure you match to my skin tone,” He reminded her his eyes fluttering closed as she started to apply the primer. It was almost like he could see the look she gave him when he added a quick ‘just making sure’ behind it. Shaking her head, she set to work on the base of his face.

____

“I am surprised that you’ve sat still enough for this long.” Y/N voiced her amazement, her eyes zeroed in on his eyelids as she swept the pigmented pink eyeshadow over it, carefully putting it in the right spot. Steve scoffed, trying his best not to move too much.

“You have no faith in me.” He muttered sarcastically. He was even surprised that he had sat for this long without getting antsy. Maybe it was because she had let him rest his hands on her waist as she worked, maybe it was just that he wanted to help her in any way he could, but it was probably the promise of going to the dirty store that kept him so still. Either way, they were both utterly shocked.

“Not true, I have lots of faith in you,” She corrected, moving to the next eyelid to cover that in pink. “I leave you alone with faith that you won’t burn my house down,” She pointed out, her eyes nearly crossing from how hard she was focusing. “I also leave you alone with my brother with faith that you won’t kill him, though both times he could have been killed, you were almost killed instead so-”

“Yeah, but was Dustin in danger?” He perked an eyebrow in question. She gave him a look.

“Last time I checked, trying to not be killed by Demo-dogs, Billy Hargrove, Russians, and a Giant Flesh Spider is classified as dangerous. So yes.” She pressed her lips together, twisting around to grab another eyeshadow brush, collecting some pigmented blue eyeshadow on it.

“But he didn’t die.”

“True,” She started, brushing some blue in the outer corner and crease expertly. “But you almost died instead, so I don’t think that pleads your case.” She jumped to the next eye, trying to get it the exact same as the other one. She leaned back, inspecting the blue powder on both, adding more to the second one.

“What’s the third colour you want?” She asked, unable to pick the next colour for his eyes.

“Purple.” He blurted out, not even sure that the other two colours were.

“Purple it is then,” She shrugged, plucking yet another brush off the table beside her, coating the end with purple eyeshadow, placing it in the inner corner gently. Steve scrunched his nose up as it tickled lightly. “Sorry,” She whispered, too focused on trying to perfect it. “You know, I didn’t think these three colours would look good together for an eyeshadow look, but I am pleasantly surprised,” She spoke as she started the other eye. “Once I blend it, it’ll look better too.”

“Remember, make me look good,” His warm breath fanned over her wrist as she put the final stroke of eyeshadow on. Grabbing yet another brush to blend the eyeshadow. “Dear God, how many brushes do you need?” He questioned, feeling the new brush swirling over his eyelids, making them flutter.

“A lot, now keep your eyes closed or you’re gonna mess it up,” She exclaimed, moving to the next eye. Steve remained silent, fighting to keep his eyelids closed. “Now, lipstick, mascara then I am done! You want pink or red? Pink might look better with your eye make-up.” She trailed off, looking at the two tubes of lipstick.

“Pink.” He chose, his eyes staying closed.

“You can open your eyes now, you Doofus,” She giggled, uncapping the lipstick and twisting it up. The creamy lipstick smeared onto his lips easily, taking no time at all. “Now, you need to keep your eyes open for this or it’ll mess this all up, okay?” She instructed, putting on the lipstick and grabbing the tube of mascara. Steve nodded, watching her intently. He visibly gulped when she pulled the wand out and brought it to his eye.

“Woah, woah, woah,” He panicked, leaning away from it in fear. “What the hell are you going to do with that?” He pointed to the black-coated wand. Y/N glanced down at it, shrugging as if it was nothing to be scared of.

“Put it on your eyelashes,” She told him, looking back at him. Her hand gripped the back of his head, keeping it in place as she brought the wand closer. “Stop being such a baby, it’s not going to hurt! I do this to myself all the time!” She struggled to keep his head in place, finally touching the wand to his already luscious lashes.

Just as she went to do his other eye, her door burst open to reveal Dustin standing there. The couple jumped, snapping their heads to look, the wand still raised in the air, and Y/N’s hand still on the back of Steve’s head. Dustin looked between Y/N and Steve, his eyes stitching together in question. “Did I just walk into some weird sex thing,” Dustin posed the question before squeezing his eyes closed and frantically shaking his head. “You know what, don’t answer that please?” He pleaded, opening his eyes to look at the couple again.

“It’s not a sex thing, it’s a make-up thing. Steve offered me his face to work on,” She clarified, turning Steve’s head back to face her. Whisking the wand on his eyelashes, she spoke to Dustin. “What do you need Dustin?”

“I honestly can’t remember now that I walked in on this.” He gestured to the scene in front of him, trying to hold in his laughter as he looked at Steve all made up.

“Stop laughing!” Steve cried in protest, his eyes tearing up slightly as Y/N fanned his eyes to make the mascara dry, her other hand placing the now capped mascara on her vanity. Dustin couldn’t help but let out a barking laugh at the comment.

“Yeah, stop laughing Dustin.”

“I’m sorry, but do you really expect me not to laugh at Steve with make-up on?”

“Yes, because A, make up doesn’t have a gender, and B, I think a man who is in touch with his faminine side is very sexy - so do a lot of girls, you should take notes from Steve for when Suzie finally comes to meet us.” She listed unclipping Steve’s hair from his face.

“Yeah, Twerp.” Steve stuck his tongue out at the teen.

“Real mature, Harrington, real mature,” Dustin narrowed his eyes at Steve. “I am ordering a pizza and I expect you guys to pay since you’ll end up eating most of it.” With that, he turned on his heel, marching down the hall. Y/N huffed out as he left the door wide open.

“You know what it is,” Y/N turned to look at Steve, pointing to the open door that Dustin was just standing in. “This attitude is all because his teeth are starting to grow in.” They both hummed at this, agreeing.

“Can I take this off now?” Steve asked, interrupting Y/N as she worked to put everything away. Looking behind her, she saw the glammed-up Steve blinking back at her. Furrowing her eyebrows, she put her brushes back in the spray-painted mason jar she kept them in, slipping her new eyeshadow pallet in the drawer with the rest of her make-up.

“Why, don’t you like it?” She asked, worried that he didn’t like the idea of having make-up on (which would be fine). Steve shook his head frantically.

“No, no! I do like it, I love it even, but, uh,” His nose twitched weirdly, making her eyebrows furrow even more. “It’s just my nose is itchy and I don’t want to ruin it, also, I am weirdly warm right now,” He gushed, his face scrunching up as he tried to survive the itch on his nose. “I have no idea how you guys wear this all the damn time, honestly.” He muttered in awe.

Y/N laughed, tossing him the package of make-up wipes. “Here you go.” She chuckled, sitting down on her bed, sliding a magazine off her nightstand table to read.

“I look damn good though, I almost don’t want to take it off, but I can’t take this itch anymore!” He exclaimed, scrubbing at his face with a wipe. Y/N peeked over her magazine at him, watching as he leaned close to the mirror, working hard to rid his face of the perfectly applied make-up. Glancing at the clock, she hummed, a smirk on her face.

“Hey, Steve,” She sat her magazine on the bed beside her. Steve hummed, working on the eye make-up just like he had watched Y/N do countless times before. She bit her lip, trying to stop the sneaky smile stretching onto her face. “As a thank you for doing this for me, I think I should give you something in return,” She paused, scooting to the foot of her bed. “How about we go to the dirty store today instead of tomorrow? We’ve got the house to ourselves after Dustin goes over to Mike’s for an overnight campaign.” She said with a suggestive tone.

Steve snapped his head to looked at her so fast, she was sure he’d be feeling the whiplash soon. “Really?” He asked with wide, excited eyes, a multitude of colours smudged around the from the eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner. She nodded, giggling at his excitement.

“Really! The store doesn’t close until nine and it’s five now, so hurry up, we can go after we drop Dustin off.” Steve started madly.

“Hey, Dustin, how about we give you money for pizza and drop you off early at Mike’s,” Steve yelled, still scrubbing at his face. “I guess he was right, this was a weird sex thing.” He commented, dropping the used wipe in the garbage by her vanity.

“It wasn’t a weird sex thing!” She defended weakly.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington preferences #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #dustin henderson #stranger things imagines #stranger things preferences

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mistaeq · 4 years ago

Text

The Jobros: Finding out their s/o is Pregnant with Twins

TW // none

Original Request: Can you do the jojo's reaction to their s/o being pregnant with twins after a long time of trying? You can find this here.

The sweet @serenityblaze44 asked for this same prompt with the Jobros, so... here it is! <3

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

ROBERT E. O. SPEEDWAGON

As soon as you tell him, his eyes widen, like a cat who saw his favourite toy. It's almost as if he was a kid, and you were telling him that Santa was gonna bring him his favourite gift ever. No wonder, he'll be speechless for some seconds. Not only one baby, but two? This sounds all the way like a dream becoming reality. Living in the street like he did years ago, he could only dream about having a family.

You've been trying so hard to have a baby, you both felt ready, and after all the danger he went through along with Jonathan, Robert wants to settle down and have a family, finally starting something serious. But you had a lot of problems with getting pregnant, and he was losing his hope. Until you told him you were expecting a baby. And now, you were telling him they were two, two angels of his growing in your stomach. This feels crazy.

Speedwagon won't force you and won't get angry, if you don't feel like you'd like something like this, but he'd love to name one of the twins Jonathan or William if there's at least a boy and Erina if there's at least a girl. These people mattered so much in his life, and would be the happiest if he could bring these names with him forever. If you don't like the idea, he will respectfully accept it, and he's open and ready to hear your own ideas, too!

He wants everything to be completely organized, when the twins will come to the world. Every parent buys furniture and clothing for their baby, even before the birth, it's a pretty common thing. But Robert more or less behaved like Joseph buying stuff for Shizuka with Josuke's money. Speedwagon almost bought an entire baby store out of happiness and excitement. He's enthusiast and nervous. Bear with this loving gentleman.

"What do you mean I don't have to buy six cribs for the babies? What their two ones break and we need to change it?" he groans, handing you a bag, you looking at him with questioning eyes. "Nevermind... y/n, will you hold these fifty pacifiers for me while I get the twenty pairs of baby shoes out of the car?"

Speedwagon can't keep the news to himself. He'll call Erina before everyone else, and then all his friends, like immediately, to tell them the good news. He looks calm and rational, but he spent most of his life in London's street, and few years won't erase his loud and impulsive attitude. It's probably a good thing, after all. Even gentlemen can be excited. A little sudden, but hearing it makes Erina so happy, she'll be like an aunt for your kids!

He would enjoy reading books to your stomach during your pregnancy. He would have done it even if they weren't twins, but he claims that being them two, he'll need to work twice the amount he did before to teach them stories and literature. Robert is an amazing man, but still a too grown baby, he'll never stop his ideas about how to teach the children something. He just thinks about what he'd like to do or hear if he was a child.

CAESAR ANTONIO ZEPPELI

He stops practicing with his hamon for some seconds as soon as you tell him. Funny, he was so focused on his training that he swore he started hearing things. You didn't just tell him that the baby bubble growing in your stomach are in reality two baby bubbles. He... oh, forget it Caesar, you must have dreamt it. But you're right next to him, and almost immediately repeat what you just told him, making him realize what he heard is true.

It takes a while for the italian boy to realize it, but when he finally does, you can tell he's happy. Mamma mia. The adrenaline and excitemente in his body won't stop flowing, this is why, when Caesar will hug you, pick you up and jump around, hamon bubbles will still be coming out of his fingertips, and you find it the cutest thing ever. It's the physical proof of how happy you make him, there's no way to deny it. Family is all he ever wanted, over his flirting habit. You're the right one for him and he knows.

Prepare your kids and your stomach to get a whole load of opera music during your pregnancy. Caesar is a great lover of opera, and will care about his kids to be as informed on it and respectful of the genre. Either he'll put on some of it, of he'll straight up sing it for you and your future children. His singing voice isn't actually so bad, you notice, and this is how he earns the task of singing them the lullabies when they'll come to the world.

"Hey! What do you mean I get to sing them the lullabies... I'm good at opera... not baby songs..." he whines, almost sounding like a baby himself. "Fine... but at one condition. You change the diapers and I sing the lullabies. Take it or leave it."

He cares a lot about his family's traditions to go on. Being the flamboyant italian he is, Caesar prides himself on the love for his close family and relatives. He doesn't have a huge request for you, but he cares about what he's gonna ask. The father-to-be would be happy, if one of the twins is a boy, to give him Antonio as a second name. Like his own second name, and his grandpa's too. He secretly hopes the twins are a boy and a girl, he's always wanted a baby princess.

The young Zeppeli will grow twice more protective and caring of you. This translates in him not letting Joseph get closer to you than three meters away. This is how you learn to speak even louder to talk with people. Your loving boy will always be in front of you to keep you safe. You appreciate it, but sometimes he's exaggerated.

He'll probably beg you on his knees, for you to allow him to teach the children how to master the hamon technique when they'll grow up. You can't really deny it, sometimes it's useful. During your pregnancy, Caesar and his calming waves helped you coping with pregnancy pains and cramps, massaging your belly and leaving some bubbles around to soothe and distract you. Oh, your caring italian love.

NORIAKI KAKYOIN

When you told him the good news, his heart exploded with happiness and excitement. However, Noriaki is known for being a pretty calm boy, and he tried his best to keep calm after your words, too. You had to tell him to let go and don't worry about wanting to hug you, or pick you up and kiss you, or even cry, if he felt like letting it all out.

Before you even got pregnant, Kakyoin and you had been trying every single way on Earth to have a baby. Take count of your most fertile phase, buy a lot of pregnancy tests, using different positions, praying, making rituals, crying and asking Siri, in tears, why Noriaki couldn't manage to get you pregnant. Did those ways work so well that you got twice more pregnant than you expected? Nevermind, all you know is that you and your loving cherry boy are gonna have two beautiful babies.

"Listen... why do you think I can't get my baby pregnant? We've been trying every single way... do you have any advice?" as soon as Siri answered, Kakyoin's eyes widened, and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't give me the 'Sorry, I'm not sure what you said' treatment!"

One of his first thoughts, is that there's a small - but now it's higher because the babies are two - percentage of chances your babies might be stand users. Yes, it's not the highest percentage ever, but it's still there, and Kakyoin is pretty afraid of it. Stand users' lives are never calm and quiet, he had the occasion to prove this himself. They often go towards almost deadly experiences. He's gotta be a good dad and protect his children.

Hierophant Green is overjoyed! Noriaki and his stand worked hard, to create some decorations for the babies' room with emeralds. Green is a neutral color, since you don't know whether the twins will be boys, girls, or both. Still, you don't think colors like pink and blue are gendered, that's some stereotypical bullshit. But you had the luck of having green decorations, perfect for anyone, from Hierophant's power.

Kakyoin secretly hopes that at least one of the babies, no matter whether it's a boy or a girl, will have his hair color or hair noodle. Think about it, wouldn't it be funny, cute and incredibly special to have a small version of your husband/boyfriend walking around the house? Oh god, what if they're identical twins? Three Noriakis? Oh my.

Even if this might embarrass him a little, you'll often get to see his parents during your pregnancy. First of all, to give them the good news about the baby being in reality two babies, and second of all because mrs. Kakyoin would be on cloud nine, getting the chance to give you some parenting advice. That's also how you get to know some interesting information and curiosities about your man's childhood. The cutest things ever. But this... is another story.

NIJIMURA OKUYASU

Okuyasu.exe has stopped working. What do you mean two babies? He thought the shocking news were finished, after the pregnancy announcement. He's gonna ask you a billion times, on the verge of tears, if you're joking or messing with him, knowing how much these news matter to his heart. When he gets you're serious, Okuyasu just lets go and cries. He feels so damn happy.

He learnt to hate your period as much as you, honestly. Because everytime you got it, it meant another month in which he had failed in getting you pregnant had passed, and this made him feel useless and disappointing. You never thought anything like this about him, but making him understand this is pretty difficult, he wouldn't have forgiven himself until he succeeded. You wanted a baby and Okuyasu wanted so too, so he would have given it to you, no matter what.

"Oi... did you... you know, bleed this month already?" Okuyasu asked, with the eyes of someone who was afraid of asking. But you shook your head. "This is good, love... but let's not get our hopes up, shall we, y/n?"

He doesn't really have any special requests or ideas for your babies' names. Or better, he does have one, but will never tell you, as he thinks for sure that you'll never agree with doing it. Okuyasu would have liked the kanji "兆" ("chou": trillion) to be in at least one of your babies' names, to remember his brother. But your boy is pretty sure you'd hate it, and he'd never suggest this. You'll probably feel there's something he's not telling you and find out anyway.

Expecting two babies is tiring, and you'll need to rest a lot. Okuyasu would like to join you and hold you in your sleep, but he also wants to be awake to take care of you, get you something to eat or drink, or put in order his messy house to make it look at least decent for when the babies will come. This is why, while you take your naps, he works around the house and lets The Hand cuddle with you. It's always him, after all. He feels the way you hold his stand.

This leads to the father-to-be being often pretty tired, too. He overworks himself. At night, when he finally joins you in your bed, happens to fall asleep in a matter of seconds, wearing his ordinary clothes instead of his pajamas. You can tell he's gonna be a good dad. Some mornings during your pregnancy, if you happened to wake up before him, you'd quietly turn off his alarm clock for him to rest more.

Okuyasu's dad is on cloud nine too, as his family is going to get larger. Mansaku totally wants to take a photo with you two and his grandchildren, as soon as they'll be born. He accepted you and behaves with you the same caring way he does towards his son. He's changed in a better man, despite his appearance. But the first person Okuyasu told the good news to, was Keicho. He purposely went on his grave, because he knew his brother would have been proud.

BRUNO BUCCIARATI

You tell him the good news while he's working. Not only it'll make his day better, but it'll also hopefully get his mind off of that giant bunch of papers on his desk, for once. The capo suddenly stops, moving his gaze towards your eyes, then your stomach, then your eyes again. You'll have to repeat, or he'll be sure he's imagined what you said because of the too much time spent working. But there's no joke or dream, you're pregnant with twins.

Screw all the papers and all the work that's left. He's gonna get you in a so tight and warm embrace of his, and never let go. Libeccio's for dinner that night? Guaranteed. He's usually a calm man, but whatever is related to his family, gets celebrated. When you announced your pregnancy, you had a dinner with the whole gang at the restaurant, but this time Bruno would rather have something more personal and private with you. Make the dinner romantic.

When you were still trying to have a baby, Bucciarati was the one who managed not to lost his temper when every attempt of yours resulted in a negative pregnancy test. But when you weren't around, I won't say he cried, but was pretty close. He was afraid of not being able to give you what you wanted, and usually ranted about this with Abbacchio. Bruno wanted to be the shoulder you could cry on, and couldn't breakdown too.

You both decided to wait some time before telling the gang about the baby being in reality two babies. They were still excited for your pregnancy itself, Mista and Narancia above everyone, and giving another shocking news would have probably brought the peace to say arrivederci. They still managed to get you confess, the look in Bruno's expressive eyes was too happy not to notice.

Just like Giorno would do, Bruno wouldn't be happy if his two angels ended up being involved in Passione's business. He totally will let the gang around his babies, as he trusts them, but during your pregnancy you both decided that the one of you taking care of the babies on a certain day, wouldn't even think of getting close to Passione's headquarters with the children. And you agreed with Bucciarati, for your little ones' safety.

"You'll agree with me that our children's safety is the most important thing, tesoro mio..." Bruno murmured, caressing your cheek. "Let's not bring them close to this place ever, I beg you. I'm sure you'll understand."

He would enjoy talking and interacting with his babies by laying his head on your stomach, kissing it and listening to them moving in the last weeks of your pregnancy. Sticky Fingers is in love with you too, and Bruno won't ever lose the chance to close you in a cuddle sandwich between his body and his stand's to make you feel protected and let you know how proud of you he is. Bucciarati will be a special dad, indeed.

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fukurodaze · 4 years ago

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hello! i am here to support all the new writers for the fandom! please feed us with more contents we're all so needy 😔 olrite so uhh can i please request a soft, like MEGASOFT scenario with post-timeskip Kageyama where he's just,,,, run straight up and LITERALLY PROPOSE to fem!s/o after winning a tournament or something... thank you in advance and wish for your blog's growth! (ʃƪ＾3＾）

off-court

pairing: timeskip!kageyama tobio x fem!reader genre: FLUFF! word count: 1.3k

lowercase intended. thank you so much anon for requesting! u are so sweet <3

you’re a bit startled when your boyfriend, kageyama tobio, kisses you hard as soon as he sees you off-court. his hands had grabbed yours as he quite literally ran your direction, his height towering over yours in a big gesture of love and affection.

his lips are familiar as ever, now softer than they were when he was nineteen ever since you made that stop at a drug store one day and bought him peppermint chapstick. tobio, the man who made it his life’s mission to “love you and never stop loving you”, gladly accepted most (almost all) the things you bought him, and began to use chapstick every day. god, you were thankful you could kiss him now without accidentally peeling the skin off of his lips.

he’s also so much more gentle than he used to be, the rush of infatuation and teenage hormones dissolving into what seemed to be romance and belonging. now, his lips kiss yours slowly. it’s the type of kiss that makes you melt all at once, making you feel light on your feet yet grounded in his arms at the same time.

when he pulls away, you’re almost out of breath and the lipstick you put on for today’s final match is ruined, but you’d rather have them red because he’s swollen them.

it’s like time stops, and his grip around you tightens.

“marry me.”

it comes naturally to your ears.

“yes.”

wait, what?

“wait what?” you look around, finding the rest of the team still reuniting with their friends and family after winning the finals. you’re still processing the words you had just heard when your boyfriend, now twenty six, takes you by the hand into the locker room - or, in front of it.

as you’re awkwardly standing by the doorway of the locker room, you see people pass by you, giving slightly confused looks, probably recognising you as ali roma’s setter’s girlfriend. getting slightly worried for your boyfriend, you call from the outside, “tobio, you alright?”

you only hear a rustling from inside. eyebrows furrowed, you sneak closer, standing directly in front of the door, suddenly hearing no sound at all with your ear pressed against the closed door.

yet tobio swings the door wide open. he seems to have had a strong sense of determination, because his face looks the way it does when he’s about to serve the volleyball. then again, it would mean he sees you like he sees a volleyball (a love of his life) and you think you wouldn’t mind being compared to a volleyball.

you accidentally trip over the speed of the door swinging open, with tobio’s arm just catching onto yours, helping you up. he takes you to a secluded corner of the gymnasium - which, by the way, is huge - and squeezes your hand warmly every step of the way there.

when he finally stops the both of you somewhere quite far from centre court, you reach a hand up to brush his hair up. he’s not sweaty anymore, so his hair doesn’t stick to itself like it usually does when you do it after matches, but you hadn’t had the chance to do so today, seeing as he’d practically crashed his lips into yours at first sight. tobio doesn’t complain about your hand through his hair though, he likes the routine. he kisses your forehead once. you feel loved.

“i actually have this,” tobio pulls out from his jacket a black velvet box. you saw little glimpses of it when he had pulled you through the halls of the gym.

now tobio grips the box with both of his large hands, opening it daintily to reveal a ring. it’s simple; much simpler than the ones you’ve seen on his teammates’ significant others’ fingers, yet the sight of it alone makes tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes, overflowing until they reach your neck.

you look at the ring, just a silver band with a diamond embedded into the centre of it, and you think you can’t stop crying. one look into his eyes, usually focused and blue, and you’re almost sobbing. tobio lets you take your time as he kisses your tears away, wiping them with his and your thumbs as well.

it’s a silent action; you nodding, mouthing a euphoric “yes”, him slipping the ring onto your finger, holding both of your hands in his, pecking them softly as to handle you with care. he whispers, “i love you.”

you engulf him in a hug that’s warmer than his body after a match, this moment of intimacy more intimate than the first time you woke up next to him. you’ve been with this man since he was nineteen, damn it. you were there at his first olympics match in rio, and then again at his second in tokyo. it had been waves of long-distance relationships and back-and-forth visits to sendai until he announced that he was going overseas to play in ali roma. it was only then that you decided to pack your bags and meet him in italy, the two of you having decided to navigate life together in a new country with a new language.

in this hug, in his little embrace, you remember it all. you remember the uncertainty of your boyfriend on the other side of the world, and recently, the uncertainty of your life in italy. you remember the fight you had with him last year, in the midst of all the restless estrangement, and how you ended up staying at a friend’s for an entire week. you even considered if it was worth it at one point, but now that he’s in your arms, a beautiful ring on your finger, you might as well slap yourself for even thinking it.

tobio pulls you up to kiss him once more, his smile felt into the kiss and on your lips. and it’s everything, like, everything, that’s poured into this one kiss because his team has placed first in the league this year and now that victory ran through his veins, he couldn’t wait to propose to you - literally.

truth is, tobio’s had this ring since the tokyo olympics, when he was twenty four. he questioned it on the first day when you woke up earlier than him despite the jet lag, and he really knew it when he called you after you left a pair of shoes and a toothbrush at his apartment at the end of your visit, your reply to his words only “i’ll come back anyway”. now you know you’ll always come back, because when has there ever been a time you didn’t want to? you sigh into the kiss.

one of tobio’s teammates gently interrupt your moment, telling him the team still wants to take pictures. tobio lightly snickers, your cheeks slightly red at the embarrassment, but his teammate catches sight of the bling on your hand and gives you a toothy smile.

“you too, y/n,” his teammate says, letting tobio take you by the hand once more, the metal band on your finger lightly grazing the side of his finger.

so your fiancé, kageyama tobio, squeezes your hand once more as you two walk through the halls of the gymnasium to centre court. your eyes are confused - do you longingly stare at tobio, the ring, or look where you’re going? it’s a fascinating feeling, you think, and now you’re starting to think of the future. kageyama f/n? kageyama l/n f/n? you’ll go over it later.

the two of you reach centre court fast enough, and when you do, tobio’s arm wraps around your waist. he gives you a look before he gives everyone else a look, his teammates and their families and friends coming to congratulate the two of you when you show them the back of your hand, diamond ring on display. a bashful laugh escapes your lips.

your heart swells with something that’s more than pride or joy or excitement. it’s a familiar swell, and so far, you’ve known it to be love.

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honeyandbloodpoetry · 3 years ago

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Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest.

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home.

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they?

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing.

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.”

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years.

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me.

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow.

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl.

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel.

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it.

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned.

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self.

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home.

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then.

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night.

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level.

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am.

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man.

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself.

More than anything, I am just happy to be me.

25 August 2021

#transmasc #ftm #ftx #gender #genderqueer #transgender #trans #lgbt #lgbtq #trans man #nonbinary #genderfluid #poets of tumblr #spilled thoughts #gender expression #low dose t #hrt

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threeminutesoflife · 5 years ago

Text

Hindsight is 20/20

Pairings: Dark!Steve x Dark!Reader Warrnings: death of minor character, stalking, masturbation, oral sex- male receiving Word Count: 3k a/n: Congratulations on the 15k milestone, @sherrybaby14 sweet Scream Queen!❣️ Thank you for hosting #promptchallenge, Lady! 🧡🔪

Challenge prompt/Summary: #27/Steve- “Stalker!Steve finally gives up and the reader misses him so she starts stalking him and he likes it!”

It was all obnoxiously poetic- the way her hair fanned out and struck the air, the whiplash of movement, and the extension of her flailing arms.

Her body performed a morbid ballet when you pushed her onto the subway tracks.

Her screams, their gasps, the failed brakes; between the brutality of gravity and the law of physics, the bitch even died pretty.

The overcrowded platform consumed your senses. The raunchy, celebratory cheers bounced off the tunnel walls and rang in your head as fans piled inhumanly close, trying to return home.

Beer breath and belches lingered overhead, sweat and humidity draped the subway tiles. Shoulders knocked into shoulders, and the little shoves and multiple bumps made your teeth grind.

Despite the acidic shuffle, your eyes stayed on her. She stood past the edge of the platform’s caution line, blissfully unaware. Cell phone in hand and fashionable jeans over her ass, she kept giggling at the phone’s screen. Fuck, she was annoying.

As you snaked closer, you saw her thumb jet across the device. Was she texting him? Were his replies the ones making her smile like that?

Your next thoughts made you pause behind a column with a frown. Does he send her gifts like the ones he sent you? Did she receive that gift?

That gift you still hold when falling asleep most nights- the teddy bear with the secret recording in his chest.

Does her teddy bear “growl” like yours?

You were sure Hallmark never intended for their sentimental creation to be used so obscenely, capturing the sounds of an overly-infatuated man pleasuring himself on the stuffed toy's recorder. People love in different ways, but you were sure his type of keepsake moment wasn’t marketable as a card in their stores.

At first, you were repulsed at the discovery. Your ear pressed against the chest of the bear, soft synthetic tickling your chin. Your brows furrowed slightly as you attempted to decode the rustling sounds. Juggling the bear until you finally located the volume button.

His deep, broken moans erupted from the toy’s chest, clarifying what the contents of the previously recorded message were. You never heard Steve like this. The revelation made your thigh muscles flex. Disgust and arousal hit you in one confusing punch. Annoyance and embarrassment slapped you next.

You dated Steve, twice; once for a late breakfast because he was leaving that afternoon for a mission, and the other was for lunch because he just returned. Both meals were eaten behind baseball hats and glasses so people wouldn't recognize him. Missions and responsibilities made it difficult to see him, and it didn’t help that both dates were cut short due to emergencies on his end. When he called after several weeks of radio silence, inviting you for brunch- you declined. You told him that you needed someone who could be present, someone who could really see you. You wished him well but said he wasn’t the one for you.

Over the clinking of his belt buckle and material shuffling rapidly on the recorder, Steve wished you farewell, “I wish you could see me as I’ve always seen you, sunshine. Goodbye.”

Throwing the obscene teddy bear back into the box, you kicked the package across the room.

After months of hangup calls from private numbers, flowers sent with no names attached, and an eerie feeling of a baseball-capped figure following you on the other side of the street- Steve finally let you go.

So why did your panties ache at the weight of that word- goodbye? Why was there an odd feeling of uncertainty growing in the pit of your stomach?

You were supposed to feel relief, but you didn't.

The weight of his absence slowly grew. You didn’t want him before, he didn’t have time for you. So why should you want him now?

So what if you didn’t have an acquaintance's admiration anymore? So what if your phone’s notification fell into a coma?

So what…

You didn’t want him, you convinced yourself that- but a small part of you liked knowing he was looking. Unsure how or when it happened, you began to actually miss him.

One night you pulled the obscene bear out of storage. The box should have been thrown out when first receiving it, but you somehow never found the time.

The bear still looked sharp and dapper, a little red bowtie garnishing the salacious audio recording.

The toy’s simple recorder didn’t have fast forward or rewind. So in your pining for Steve’s attention, you listened to his long audio of grunting and groaning- repeatedly.

You wanted to hear every noise he made. You needed the timber in his voice. The high and lows of his moans, his breath catching in his chest. The sounds he made when pleasuring himself to the thought of you...

You tried masking the reasons for your actions to yourself. You just needed to hear him say, “goodbye.” Hearing him say that one simple word would make it more official. Of course, hearing him say it and you accepting it were entirely different things.

As you repeatedly hit the play button and rested on the bed with the grunting toy beside you, you knew this was a mistake. Because he sounded good, damn good.

And that night started one of many. You’d mewl in sync with Steve's muffled groans coming from the stuffed bear's speakers, slipping one hand down your panties and covering your breast with the other. You unintentionally programmed yourself to cum as he did on the recording. Which meant, you needed to hear him cum on that audio for you to also find release.

___

The ringing in your head grew louder as you watched his new interest, your replacement, stand by the edge of the platform.

Her carefree, glossy smile seared itself in your mind as you replayed the image of Steve wrapping his arms around her on the sidewalk. He wished her good night with a soft kiss before letting her descend the subway’s stairs.

The longer you watched her, the easier it was for your jealousy to distort the fans’ cheers and drunken singing for the championship win into a slow chant of- “Push. Push. Push.”

Before your mind knew what your body had planned, your legs moved and arms shoved.

She was dead and you didn't mean to do it, at least- not out in the open. But everything in you just snapped.

You allowed the chaos of the crowd to swallow you and drown you in their sea of scared bystanders. Some pulled out phones, while others ran for high ground.

The passing subway train tried braking sooner; gears sparking and metal grinding. It was now half-hidden in the tunnel and half-exposed alongside the platform. The people on board shouted in horror after understanding why the platform crowd’s screamed for the non-stop subway train to stop.

Pushing your glasses further up your nose, you frantically scanned for the easiest escape. Pulling the bill of your cap down further over your face, you ran.

An emergency warning blared through the tunnel. Over the sirens, a voice encouraged everyone to stay calm. However, it only did the opposite- stoking people’s fears and peeking people’s curiosities.

Wearing a disguise similar to yours, Steve stalked your movements behind the thick-rimmed glasses. Off to the side and engulfed in shadows, he watched you under the rounded bill of his baseball cap. When his prior date’s screams broke out, he pulled his glasses down in shock but quickly recovered and slid them back into place.

He was taken back that you ended the girl so suddenly; surprised and oddly proud. Usually, he was the one who took the action and blocked your would-be suitors. But you doing this for him was a dream come true. His dick twitched at your declaration of love. You finally proved how much he meant to you.

Steve had pretended to leave you alone too long for his liking. But he was never far and you certainly weren't ever forgotten. Tonight, you finally showed him that his waiting was worth it- and that he wasn’t forgotten either.

After politely thanking and kissing the bland girl goodbye, he expected you to trail him back to his residence and wait until he entered his brownstone like you’ve done after his other dates.

It’s been your pattern for the last two months, but to his annoyance, you never approached him further and he was growing restless. He thought dating other women would smoke you out. But you stayed burrowed. However this time, he took the same girl out more than once. She got the third date you never did.

He wished he thought of recycling a date sooner, maybe you would have reacted quicker and not so much time would have been spent apart.

But you returned to him and that’s what mattered.

After adjusting his hardness, he checked the tracker on your phone and noted the direction you were headed. With muscle memory, he twisted through the crowd and made his way towards your apartment. You needed him.

Your breathing was labored as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, excessively stomping out your anger on each step as you replayed Steve kissing her.

She deserved what you did to her. Three dates were too many, you should have ended her after two.

Kicking off your shoes and throwing your hat aside in the apartment, you sneered at the thought of them together. You aggressively stripped your way down the hallway to the bathroom. Your shucked clothes knocked against the hanging picture frames.

After throwing your bra at your reflection in the mirror, you twisted the shower knobs into submission. The pipes groaned and the water slowly heated as you braced your arms on the counter. Leaning towards the mirror, you took a hard look at yourself.

After surveying the way the prop glasses perched themselves on the bridge of your nose, your eyes tracked over the curve of your chin and moved down to the elastic band of your panties -

THUMP

Your eyes snapped back up to your reflection as you frowned at the noise. Shaking your head at your imagination, you pushed yourself off the counter and reached for the candles. With the extra stress tonight brought, scented candles would be soothing-

THUMP

Was it your imagination? You turned the shower off and slowly opened the bathroom door. Your ears strained to catch the noise, but no sounds greeted you. Exhaling a huff, you were about to close the bathroom door when you heard a low rustling coming from your bedroom.

Wrapping a towel around your panty-covered body, your bare feet padded softly down the hallway to the incoherent sounds. Toeing open the door, your towel partially slipped when you saw Steve sitting on the edge of your bed. Hat and glasses on, he held the teddy bear that was currently playing your favorite lewd recording.

Steve jostled the bear back and forth between his hands. Tossing it up in the air, he caught it midfall, “There’s my sunshine! Been taking care of our bear, I see.”

Almost naked and fully shocked, you stared at Steve from the doorway, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes didn’t match the smirk on his face, “Now, sunshine, drop the act. I know what you did for us. I saw it.”

The bear moaned in his hands as you stared at him dumbfounded for getting caught. Trying for time, you asked, “Us being- you and the bear?”

“No, sunshine. You and me,” Steve gave a dry chuckle before tossing the stuffed animal over his shoulder. “It’s kind of odd being in your room and on your bed. Well, at least with you knowing I’m here this time, I mean.”

The towel dipped slightly from your grasp at his admission.

Steve caught your reaction with a grin, but his expression grew serious when he said, “All I ever wanted was for you to see me like I see you, sunshine.”

You felt his gaze roam over your exposed skin, trying to gauge your reaction to his ambushed presence. A part of you was glad to see him, but you thought you’d have more time to practice your confession about your feelings.

But maybe this was the push you needed, the tug in the right direction to be fully honest with yourself.

Looking at Steve, the screams of the woman you killed and the crowd’s outcries of fear failed to replay in your head. There was no play track of guilt.

The spot within you that should have been filled with remorse was replaced by the calming scent of his cologne and the enjoyment of hearing the recording of him pleasuring himself from the disregarded bear. Steve was in your room- and that realization caused a sweet wetness to gather between your thighs.

Steve toed out of his shoes and stood in front of your bed. Tossing his shirt aside, he stated, “I saw you missed me.”

You slowly dragged your eyes away from his tented pants, “Maybe I only missed the attention?”

Steve snorted at your words and walked closer, “No, sunshine. You missed us. And you gifted me such a sweet gesture- just like how I gifted you that bear. Granted yours was a bit more… homicidal, but it was sweet nonetheless.”

Your insides warmed at his touch. You rested your face in his palms as he cupped and rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks.

Steve gently touched his forehead against yours, pressing your glasses together. His bare chest grazed your towel, “You missed me, sunshine. Admit it.”

Looking over the rim of your glasses, his thumbs swept over your cheeks one more time before you reached for him and admitted what he wanted to hear with a kiss.

You missed his attention, you missed him.

The old recorded sounds of him cumming filled the room. You bit his bottom lip in the kiss, earning a growl from him.

You needed this, you needed him.

“You’re perfect for me. All this fire blazing under your skin, sunshine,” Steve moaned and praised you before deepening the kiss.

Without breaking his lips from yours, he took your elbow and pulled you towards the bed. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you stumbled over the forgotten towel.

“I can’t believe we’re here. I wanted this for so long,” Steve whispered into the curve of your neck and his hands roaming over your body. “I want to taste you. Feel your tight pussy wrapped around me. Fuck! I can’t decide how to take you first.”

“..No,” shaking your head at his words.

“What?”

“No. You don’t get to decide what we do first. I killed for us, I decide.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed with impatience, “...You made me wait.”

“So did you,” you countered, unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in his boxers. “But- I get to decide.”

Steve’s hips snapped forward when you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You eyed the stuffed bear in the corner and smiled wolfishly at Steve, “Be just as vocal for me, handsome.”

He struggled to talk as you ran your hand up and down his shaft with his pre-cum, “Keep... keep the glasses... on.”

Your hand stilled around him and your eyebrow arched. Steve looked hungry and confused until it registered that he tried ordering you.

“...P-please,” Steve whimpered a request at your motionless hold. “Please, keep the glasses on.”

With a sharp nod, your grip tightened again and you worked another groan out of him. You quickly pulled his pants down and pushed him to bed’s edge. Running your hands over his muscled thighs, you moved his legs apart and settled yourself before him.

Steve watched as you worked your way up his inner thighs, making him hiss in pleasure from every teasing squeeze and nibble.

“I’ll keep my glasses on but then you keep yours on, too,” you winked before pumping him towards your mouth and swirling your tongue around his red tip.

Steve inhaled with a stutter, lost in the way your wet lips felt wrapped around the head of his cock. He moaned in agreement when you took him further into your warm mouth.

His labored breaths made your thighs rub together. All those familiar sounds you craved when masturbating to his recording were sharper and deeper now that he loomed over you.

Steve was captivated by you- and you felt powerful. Each long lick made his body shake. Each stroke and twist caused his hips to jolt off the bed. Cupping his tightening balls, you bobbed your head further down this length. Bracing yourself against his thighs, you looked up at him with wide eyes and hollowed cheeks.

Another growl left his chest as his eyes caught yours. Tilting his head back, he exhaled darkly. Eyes closed behind the thick frames, he cursed in pleasure.

“F- Fuck,” Steve stammered as you hummed against him.

Your glasses pressed against your face as you buried yourself closer into his pelvis. Your cheeks brushed the inside of his thighs as you took him fully to the hilt. His saltiness on your tongue and his masculine scent clouded your senses, making your panties wetter.

Steve desperately tried to hold it together but having you before him, strong and glorious, left him unable to hold back much longer.

“Let me cum, please,” he begged.

You pulled him out with a pop. His dick bounced against his thick thighs and smeared wetness along his stomach. The sudden coolness caused goosebumps to fan across his skin.

“Please, sunshine.”

Rocking back on your heels, you watched him; goosebumps spreading, chest heaving, hips jolting, cock throbbing. You did this. You brought this incredible man into a pleading state of ecstasy and blind frenzy.

As your fingertips playfully ran along his length, you rose higher on your knees. You pulled him into a kiss with one hand and stroked his cock faster in your other, mixing the pressure with a tight fist and loose palm.

The taste of him was on your lips as you whispered encouragements, “Let go, handsome. I’ve got you.”

Steve shattered at your words, his fists painfully pressed into the mattress as his ass lifted off the bed from the pleasure. He spilled himself over your grip, tumbling past your knuckles as you milked him.

“Such a good boy,” you praised proudly.

Loosening your hold, you raised your stained hand to his glasses and smeared himself over his lenses, “It took me a while, Steve- but I see you now.”

#dark!steve x dark!reader #dark!reader #dark!steve x reader #prompt challenge #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x dark!reader #dark!marvel #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction

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