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whirlybirbs · 3 years

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( another gif by @unearthlydust from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

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“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

Note

Mikey im gonna need more thoughts about Stucky laughing/playing during sex … could I tempt you into writing a little ficlet? 👀 I just know they’re the sweetest, happiest boys 😫

Schmmoopy hours officially started with your little hc earlier

PLZ YES CUZ I JUST WANT THEM HAVING FUN SILLY SEX they deserve it

Bucky’s hands roam over Steve’s front, fingers smoothing across the soft skin of his chest before gently tugging his nipples. Tilting his head back, Steve mouths at Bucky’s jaw, humming pleased when Bucky leans down to kiss him in turn. The space between them is a live wire-- gentle and strong all at once. Bucky buried deep inside him and fucking him with an even rhythm, keeping him close to the edge, but not tumbling over quite yet. And it’s thrilling, the way Bucky knows him well enough to keep him suspended like this.

One of Bucky’s hands wander down to his hip, holding him steady, and Steve moans into Bucky’s mouth as he begins to fuck him faster. He clenches around Bucky, hoping to bring him closer, and Bucky gasps, a moan escaping his throat in turn.

“Nngh.”

Steve breaks the kiss, snickering. “Did that just come out of you?”

Bucky huffs, hips never stilling. “Shut up, you made me do that.”

Steve starts to laugh in earnest, mouthing at Bucky’s throat in apology. “No no, that’s fair, just… you sounded a bit like a strangled cat.”

Bucky squawks, indignant. “I did not.” He pointedly squeezes Steve’s hip harder, even though he’s starting to laugh, too. And fuck, he’s beautiful like this. Elated and sweaty, seamless in the way he presses into Steve so thoroughly. “If anything-- ah, fuck-- I sounded like a very distinguished cat.”

Steve wrinkles his nose, rolling his hips back in time with Bucky’s thrusts. “That doesn’t make any-- ah-- goddamn sense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like my brain is very online right now,” Bucky admits, breathless, as he kisses the junction between Steve’s neck and shoulder. He angles his hips to press against Steve’s prostate and gives a few pointed thrusts.

Steve gasps, his resolve slipping as he lets his eyes slide back shut. Bucky chuckles low in his throat, and begins to fuck him faster, hitting his prostate consistently now. Steve loses himself in the sensation, lip caught between his teeth as he sinks into the feeling of Bucky taking him apart.

Bucky stops abruptly, laughing. Opening his eyes, Steve pouts.

“What?” he whines. Bucky tries and fails to contain his giggles as he presses his forehead to the back of Steve’s head.

“Nothing, nothing,” he manages, then laughs again. Steve huffs, rolling his hips back hard enough to make Bucky gasp through his laughs. “Steven. Really, just-- you grunted real funny just now.”

“You’re only saying that because I made fun of your strangled cat moan,” Steve complains, starting to laugh as well.

“No, I’m not! You sounded real weird-- honest,” Bucky says and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, are you gonna fuck me, or not?”

“I am fucking you.”

“No, you’re not! My poor dick is going soft. Look what you’ve done, you’ve killed the mood!”

“Oh, I killed the mood? You started this, you little shit.”

Bucky starts thrusting again with renewed vigor, and Steve’s jarred forward on the bed. He scrambles for purchase, heat running molten through his veins, and fuck-- he’s suddenly close.

“Jesus, fuck,” he laughs. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, taking his hips in both hands and kneeling up behind him to fuck him harder. Steve feels himself toe the line of the edge, ready to stumble over at any moment. “Learned it from you.”

And then Steve is coming. Sudden and sharp, pleasure pulsing through him so intensely, he can’t even make himself shout out, mouth open in a silent scream. He feels Bucky follow soon after, moaning deep in his chest as he spreads out over Steve’s back, mouthing at his shoulder as he comes hard inside him.

They come down in tandem, pressed close as Steve feels Bucky’s release drip out of him. He squirms, uncomfortable.

“What?” Bucky slurs.

“Your jizz is on my thighs,” Steve complains, shifting again. He feels Bucky wrinkle his nose against his shoulder.

“Ew. Don’t say that.”

Steve laughs, gasping a little as Bucky pulls out, oversensitive. Bucky flops down next to him on his back, and Steve slumps over, tucking into his side.

“That was good,” he hums, kissing Bucky’s collarbone.

“Yeah?” Bucky smiles at him, rubbing a hand down his bicep. A soft, soothing gesture. “Even though I sounded like a weird cat?”

Steve snorts, resting his head on Bucky’s chest. “Your unpredictable vocal range is the best thing about you. Keeps me on my toes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing again. “I’ll make sure to squawk like a bird next time, just to keep you on your toes.”

Steve shoves at Bucky, delighted. “If you ever squawk while you’re fucking me, I will quite literally never let you in me again.”

Bucky shoves him back, then tackles him over to kiss him, loud and sloppy. Steve blushes, staring up at him.

“Somehow,” Bucky murmurs, kissing him softer now. “I really doubt that.”

Steve threads his fingers through the back of Bucky’s hair. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, pulling him back down for another kiss. “You keep telling yourself that.”

#this is a crappy little thing but #its also 1 am #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #mikey answers

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blacktofade · 4 years

Note

pls oh god of fics pls grant thee touch starved Shane and oblivious Ryan in shyan ship *bows down* (i sent one before and donno if u actually got it cuz it showed error so im sending in another try)

I didn’t get your other ask unfortunately, but this is an idea I’ve been wanting to write like 10k for, but I know I’ll never have the energy. So it’s a little ficlet instead.

CW: Includes post-kidnapping, malnutrition, and an embarrassing lack of touching for a touch-starved prompt.

Shane disappears on September 17th. Ryan only remembers because they’d been scheduled to shoot an episode of Weird and/or Wonderful World and he’d had to eventually make the uncomfortable call to the Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanic Garden to cancel their tour and interview.

It had been funny at first with Shane’s habitual lateness. They’d all assumed he’d slept late, forgot what day it was, and completely blanked on the filming schedule.

It’s less funny a week later when a missing person’s report is filed and Shane’s parents fly out to stay with Scott while they wait for any kind of news.

Detective Flores finds him two states over, a month and a half later. There are six hostages in total, as part of some elaborate heist that’s foiled before it comes to fruition. Shane’s kept in hospital for almost a full week, treated for malnutrition and a few general injuries, the news passed to Ryan through Scott via a DM on Instagram.

For the first time since Shane’s disappearance, Ryan sleeps through the whole night.

On the Saturday following Shane’s return, Ryan wakes to a phone call at eight in the morning.

“Hello?” he answers, voice rough from sleep, brain barely online.

“I’m sorry,” Shane apologizes, but his voice alone is enough to wake up Ryan the rest of the way. It’s the first he’s heard from him. He’d been trying to give the family space and knew Shane would find him once he was ready. Apparently, now is that time. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Sure,” Ryan agrees instantly, shoving back the covers and getting out of bed. “Where are you?”

“My apartment,” Shane admits and Ryan pauses from where he’s trying to dig out a pair of clean pants. “I just need a break.”

“Sure,” Ryan repeats. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line before, quietly, Shane says, “Thanks, Ryan.”

Shane’s waiting at the curb when Ryan pulls up.

Ryan unlocks the door and watches Shane fold himself into his seat, waiting a moment for Shane to settle before reaching over to set a hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

“Hey man,” he says gently. “Long time no see.”

Shane startles at the touch, but glances over, offering a small smile in return.

He looks different. His face is thinner, his cheekbones a little more prominent, and there’s a new scar on the right side of his forehead that disappears into his hairline.

“Hey,” Shane replies, buckling his seatbelt and giving Ryan a view of his right hand, which has two fingers splinted together. “Thanks for coming.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

Ryan stares at him incredulously and eventually Shane looks away, out the passenger side window.

“It’s just hard being surrounded by everyone right now,” he says, clearly talking about his family. “I need a break.”

Ryan checks over his shoulder and pulls back onto the road.

“Is my apartment okay? Or did you want to go somewhere else?”

“Your place is fine,” Shane tells him, and from the corner of his eye, Ryan sees him turn his head, staring as though Ryan won’t notice.

At the next red light, Ryan glances over. “How are you doing?”

Shane looks away, clearly caught. “Getting tired of people asking me that. It’s all anyone asks these days.”

“Guess they just want to know you’re okay.”

Shane glances back towards him. “Could be better,” he says bluntly and Ryan can’t help but let out a quiet huff of laughter.

“Yeah, no shit. But the hospital cleared you?”

“Yeah,” Shane sighs. “Apart from a few broken fingers and some weight loss, I’m okay.”

“I missed you,” Ryan admits. “It’s probably the longest I’ve gone without seeing you since we started at BuzzFeed.”

Shane frowns like he’s thinking and then the frown deepens. “Jesus, you might be right.”

Ryan laughs again. “Horrifying thought, huh?”

“Puts things in perspective.”

“Didn’t you miss me?” Ryan asks jokingly, but Shane doesn’t answer, just laughs quietly.

“It’s weird,” Shane says. “I was never alone, but it feels like I have to relearn how to be around people now.”

Ryan had read the news after Shane’s rescue. There had been five others saved alongside Shane, so he suspects they might be the reason Shane wasn’t alone.

Ryan shrugs gently. “Adjusting is hard, and I’m sure it’s even harder with your family refusing to let you out of their sights.”

Shane shakes his head. “You have no idea. I was in the shower for twenty minutes this morning and they started knocking on the door to see if I was still alive.”

“Rough,” Ryan laments. “Well, you’re welcome to chill at my place for as long as you need.”

“Can I move in?” Shane jokes, but Ryan just shrugs.

“If that’s what you want.”

It’s silent for a moment before Shane says, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Ryan offers him a smile. “Of course, dude. It’s what I’m here for.”

It’s quiet for the rest of the drive until Ryan pulls into his usual parking spot and glances over. “You good?

Shane nods and carefully unbuckles his seatbelt. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Ryan’s chest tightens watching Shane limp his way towards the front door, but he knows the last thing Shane needs is more helicoptering.

“Can I get you anything?” Ryan asks as he shuts the door behind them, watching Shane glance around as though he expects Ryan to have redecorated during his disappearance, but ultimately Shane shakes his head. “Okay, well, make yourself at home. You know the drill. I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

He knows Shane can find his own way to the living room, so he moves around him, heading in the direction of the kitchen instead.

“Ryan?” Shane questions and Ryan pauses, turning back.

“Yeah?”

Shane hesitates like he doesn’t know how to get the words out, but after a moment, he takes two steps closer and draws Ryan into a hug instead.

Ryan isn’t entirely expecting it. Shane’s not a touchy-feely guy, which means Ryan can probably count on one hand the amount of times they’ve hugged. But Shane folds around him so tightly that it startles the breath right out of him.

“I did miss you,” Shane mutters and Ryan lifts his hands to reciprocate, holding Shane as hard as he dares when everything feels so fragile.

“I was really worried,” Ryan admits. “I thought you’d been killed.”

He finds himself rubbing one hand along Shane’s spine, trying to soothe him as Shane tucks his face against his shoulder.

“You were gone for a long time,” Ryan continues.

He can feel the warmth of Shane’s breath through his shirt as he exhales shakily. “They broke my fingers when I tried to escape.”

Ryan holds him tighter, needing them both to understand that Shane’s safe again. Having the weight of Shane leaning against him is grounding in a way he never knew it could be. About a month into Shane’s disappearance, Ryan had gone through a mourning period, assuming he’d never see Shane again. He finds tears prickling his eyes as the relief hits him solidly in the chest.

“God, Shane,” he murmurs and he’s not sure who’s comforting who.

The warmth of Shane spreads through him, all the way down to his toes, like a cup of hot soup on a cold day. Except that Ryan never realized he was too cold until this moment. He feels alive and whole again, and he knows he can’t even begin to understand what Shane experienced. The fact that he can feel every ridge of Shane’s spine as his hand passes along it says enough.

When he finally starts feeling like Shane’s probably ready to let go, he loosens his arms and shifts, one foot lifting to take a step backwards.

“Just a little longer,” Shane requests and Ryan’s more than happy to comply, a noise of agreement escaping as he nods.

“I’ll stay here as long as you need,” Ryan tells him. “It’s just good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Shane replies and tightens his grip again like he might never let go.

To be honest, Ryan’s okay with that. He holds on just as tightly and settles against Shane, finally feeling happy again for the first time in months.

#thing wot i wrote #fic #shyan #prompts 2021 #benaya-trash #benaya trash

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Text

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #48

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Eli C. (The Break Up)

“You look like shit.”

It’s Friday morning. Eli slides into a chair at his usual table at the coffee shop. His best friend Becca is already there, sipping on her nonfat mocha with extra whipped cream, grinning like an amused fool. He’s glad someone can be so cheery this early in the morning.

“Lay off, I had a long night.” Eli savors the taste of his own black coffee - hoping it’ll kick in so he can at least pay half attention in class.

“Did you now?” Becca’s eyebrow is raised high with interest.

Eli lets out a groan, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Becca leans forward. “No, I think I do. What trashy thing did you do now?”

Eli takes another drink of his coffee, settling in. Fine. It’s not like Becca ever lets these things go. “You know how I’ve been on those show choir message boards for the past year or so?”

“Oh, god, this again?” She’s more delighted than appalled.

“I’m allowed to have my hobbies.”

“Yeah, your totally gay hobbies.”

“Says the woman who has her hand in pussy any chance she can get.”

“Anyway…” Becca pushes on. “Your totally normal obsession with show choirs, continue…”

“About week ago, I get to chatting with this guy named Blaine.”

“Really? His name is Blaine?” Becca lets out a hardy laugh. “Of course this story is going to get gayer.”

“Hey, you wanted to hear it.” Eli pushes back.

“Okay, okay, continue.”

“So we get to chatting, and I’m flirty and he’s flirty back, or at least that’s how I took it. So a couple days ago I looked him up on Facebook. Turns out the guy is totally hot - in that classic movie star kind of way.” Eli thinks about it - how it was really pretty harmless at the beginning. Maybe he misread the situation? Maybe he didn’t. Does he regret it? No, not really.

Becca grins her annoyingly devilish grin. “Did you go weak in the knees?”

“You know what, I did - so shut it,” Eli continues. “So, I asked if he wanted to hook up sometime.”

Becca feigns being impressed. “Wow - and he agreed without even seeing you? I mean - it’s not like your profile picture is telling a whole lot.”

“It’s a metaphor, Becca.”

“It’s overcompensation, Eli.”

“Anyway, yes he came over and we hooked up. And that’s that.” Eli doesn’t think there’s much more to tell - but Becca doesn’t seem satisfied.

“That cannot be the full story.”

“Do you really want the sordid details of my sex life?”

“Hey, you got to hear the comedy and tragedy that was Veronica Stalls, so yeah, I do.”

“Okay it was…” Eli lets out a long breath. The image of Blaine remains seared in his head - the moment he first saw him in person, showing up at his dorm room with a sad kind of beauty about him. He had been captivating - but Eli had always been one for lost causes. “The whole thing ended up being very odd. We agreed to meet at my place at seven, right? Well, he doesn’t show up. And I didn’t think much of it - cause I mean, hooking up with internet people can sometimes be sketchy. But then about quarter after ten, he knocks on my door. So, I let him in, and there’s very little talking. Like, the dude was all over me almost the second he walks in the door.”

“Um, hot.”

“More like very aggressive,” Eli corrects. Had it been hot? Yes, surely. Did something feel utterly wrong? Absolutely. Did he want to give up sex that night? Not even a little bit. “Not that it wasn’t a turn on. I just wasn’t expecting it. Online the guy is so polite and almost demure. I figured I’d have to be the one to push him a little. But nope, we were on the bed making out and grinding in, like, ten minutes.”

“Hey, no-strings-attached sex sounds kinda nice.”

In theory, it had been very nice. “Yeah, still…” Eli tilts his head back and forth as he thinks back on it. “It was like… it was like he wasn’t really there?” He remembers Blaine’s vacancy very clearly. It had been just a hook-up. No reason for Eli to take that personally, but some kind of connection would have been nice. Maybe even acknowledgement of what they were doing. Blaine, however, gave him nothing. “He gave me a handjob, and it was ‘meh’ to be honest with you. No finesse at all. Jerked me off as fast as he could. Then I asked if I could go down on him and, oh boy, that froze him up.”

Becca’s eyes grow wide. She sees people. It’s why they’re friends. “Um, so this already sounds like there’s some issues going on here.”

“Oh, clearly,” Eli nods. “But I mean, we weren’t hooking up to deconstruct whatever messed up feelings he was having. I was pretty clear from the outset that it was just a hookup. At least, I thought I was. Anyway, he finally let me go down on him and…”

“...and?” Becca’s unusually hanging onto his words.

“The dude’s dick was fucking gorgeous.” Eli licks his lips thinking about it again. If there had been one bright spot about last night - it was that dick. “I almost got hard again just looking at it.”

“Oh, I hear ya,” Becca says in a bout of sincerity. “Veronica Stalls’s tits, man. At least I get to keep the image of those in my brain for the rest of my life.”

“Right? Man…” Eli looks around. There are barely any customers there - they’re pretty alone. Still, he feels a little strange being so graphic in public. But Becca’s eyes are hard on him, so he continues. “So, yeah, I start to blow him, but he doesn’t really get into it, you know? Like most guys will pull my hair, or fuck my mouth, or whatever, but he just lay there letting me do it to him. And, I mean, seriously, I have no regrets sucking on a dick that delicious, but it did bum me out that he wasn’t, at least, a little into it. Took him fucking forever to come, too.”

“Yeah, he totally sounds suspect,” Becca agrees. “You were safe, right?”

“Oh, totally,” Eli nods. “So afterwards, we kind of make out a little, or more so, I kiss him a little, but he’s just, like, looking as if he’s going to throw up. So I got up to get some water, and by the time I get back, he’s pretty much dressed and out the door.”

“Oh my god,” Becca says, as if it is all clicking for her. “You were, like, the other guy, Eli. This dude totally has a boyfriend or something.”

“Not gonna lie, the thought crossed my mind,” Eli admits. To be honest, it had been fully on his mind but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Was he selfish for that? Was he selfish for just wanting to get off? “He blocked me this morning, so… I guess that was that. I feel a little bad though. Not that he blocked me - I guess I expected that. Just that I took part in whatever bad turn this guy was taking.”

“Don’t,” Becca shakes her head emphatically. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And honestly - sounds like you’re better off not being a part of whatever mess this dude’s life is.”

“True,” Eli gives a shrug. “He was a nice guy, though. I hope he figures his shit out.” He gives one last lingering thought to Blaine, hoping wherever he is today that he isn’t full of regret. Eli isn’t. Ah well. Moving on. “Meanwhile… I have a couple of hits from Grindr I should tell you about.”

“Oh, dear god…”

#99 perspectives #s.o. writes things #i'm sure this will be everyone's favorite :P

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waithyuck · 4 years

Text

smile

***part of the nct almost collab by @hyucksie***

pairing: zhong chenle x reader (f)

genre: ANGST, a single grain of fluff

word count: 7k

warnings: swearing, depictions of depression, overall sadness, frustration/anger, the reader is sort of obsessed with chenle, heartbreak, descriptions of a panic attack + anxiety, chenle becomes an ass :/, forced kissing, hyuck is a good friend :)

a/n: my piece for the ALMOST collab! I hope you all enjoy this mess of feelings 🥴 idk if this is actually good or not but I think I’m happy with the way it turned out ??? idk anyway enjoy lmao

———

Ever since you could remember, you’ve had a crush on Chenle.

Literally ever since you could remember, considering he’s been in your life since you were five years old.

Classic boy next door trope, you could say.

You attended the same school and even shared classes together throughout your elementary and middle school years. High school obviously had a lot more freedom, giving you the opportunity to pick and choose classes that suited your interests. naturally, that pulled the two of you apart in a certain sense.

You could recall one instance in the very beginning of your freshman year where you caught Chenle and some random girl kissing behind the bleachers. It tore you apart inside, so young a fragile at the time, but you threw on a smile like you always tended to do, and let out a quick and airy apology before running off into the safety of Donghyuck’s arms.

Nonetheless, you and Chenle were pretty damn close; kind of like those best friends you see in books or stories...except that in fiction they usually end up together, and you and Chenle, well...haven’t yet.

You still had hope though, that maybe he felt the same way you did for him. You held onto that hope and cherished it, considering it was the only reason you could get up and face the world on most days.

Yeah, you knew it was pathetic. at least you could acknowledge the fact that relying on feelings from a boy you liked was incredibly stupid, but hey, you had the brain of a senior in high school.

Anyway, you and Chenle were very friendly toward each other, and of course you would talk to each other out your individual windows sometimes late at night, but it wasn’t like those stories people read online. You were simply really good friends; nothing like brother and sister, but certainly not anything more than just friends.

You’d say you probably know more about Chenle than most; besides your shared friends Donghyuck (who was already in university, and your closest friend next to Chenle) and Jisung (who was just a tad bit younger and too shy to really hold a conversation with you). You paid close attention to him because, well, who doesn’t want to know everything about the person they’re crushing on?

Even so, it was definitely a given that Chenle was extremely passionate about his schoolwork and his future career. This kid wanted to be the ‘best lawyer the world has ever seen’, according to himself. You were always supportive of him, egging him on when the workload got to him and assuring him that everything would be okay in the end, even when he was exhausted from all his extracurricular activities and volunteering. Chenle seriously seemed like he would work himself to death.

You never really fully processed what him being passionate about his future would mean for you, and how it would affect your relationship and friendship with him. You didn’t even know that he applied to universities at all (since he didn’t tell you and you were kind of oblivious, to be honest), let alone which ones he strived for.

Fast forward to the present, it was currently the middle of November and school was going full swing, your senior year of high school passing by like a breeze. You were currently hanging out with Donghyuck, who was in town for the weekend from his university in the next city over. It was always nice to see him, his presence always putting a smile on your face.

You both sat at a window seat in the middle of a fairly busy restaurant, joking with each other and picking at your food lightly as you conversed. It grew silent for a moment, your chuckles dying down from some stupid attempt at a joke by Hyuck, before he broke it.

“Did you hear that Chenle got into Harvard?” Donghyuck absentmindedly spoke quietly, picking at the salad seated in front of him on the restaurant table. “Full fucking ride.” He didn’t even look up to meet your now bulging eyes.

Your blood ran ice cold as your heart began to seemingly stop beating, freezing just like your veins.

“He what?” you practically screeched, causing the boy across from you to jump slightly.

Hyuck looked at you then, his cheeks filled with food as he grasped his chest dramatically.

“Uh yeah?” he replied like it was obvious. “He’s really passionate about his career choice, you know.”

“Of course I know!” you shrieked at him, your hands going up to pull at your hair exasperatedly. You chewed your lip, your heart pounding and squeezing in your chest at the notion of Chenle’s inevitable departure from your life. “What, you think I wouldn’t know that the boy I’ve known since I was a LITERAL CHILD, isn’t passionate about his future?!”

Donghyuck was now looking around the both of you, taking notice of the strangers who were now staring at your visibly panicked form.

“Y/N, calm down, please–“

“I’m calm! I’m perfectly fine! ahah,” you chewed on your nails frantically as you tried to quiet your mouth and your mind, your leg shaking nonstop under the table, causing the silverware to shake.

You distracted yourself by looking out the window to your immediate left, trying to watch the people walk by like it was some sort of therapy for your bustling thoughts.

“Why didn’t he tell us he was applying to–“ you cut yourself off quietly, stopping your question short. ”...How does he know already?” you asked, your voice small.

“Early action or some shit, I guess.”

It was quiet for a few minutes between you both; Hyuck continued to munch on his salad and you could feel his eye warily watching you as you chewed your nails to nubs.

“...Are you okay?” he finally questioned, his voice comforting as he pulled you from out of your own head.

“Just,” you bit your lip, your eyes spaced out as you stared down at the floor. “Why couldn’t he have picked a school around here?” Your voice was small and quiet, and you could hear the boy across from you sigh. “Why couldn’t he just do that, like you?”

He didn’t really say anything then, picking up the fact that those were most definitely rhetorical questions. You didn’t touch any more of your food, your stomach tied up in knots, making you feel sick.

“Y/N...”

You didn’t look at him, your face hot with embarrassment from how much pain your heart was actually feeling at the news that Chenle, the boy you have loved for years, would be leaving you.

“He’s really excited about this...you…” he trailed off, trying to pick his next words carefully. “You need to show him some support, even though I know it hurts you.”

You knew that deep down, Hyuck was absolutely right. What kind of friend would you be if you were selfish and kept yourself wrapped up in your own feelings? You sniffled and picked your head back up, finally looking at him.

“You’re right. you are absolutely right.” you finally breathed out, trying to slowly calm your aching anxiety. “Just like always, Hyuck.” You cracked a slight smile then, and he returned it, seeming relieved that you snapped out of your panic, even if it was just a little bit.

“At least you can acknowledge it, angel.” He sent you a wink along with the pet name, and you jokingly gagged, which caused the both of you to laugh.

With the mood seemingly lifted, you were able to enjoy the rest of your time with Donghyuck, even if the anxiety of Chenle leaving was still a heavy presence in the back of your reeling mind.

——

That same night, you laid yourself across your pillows and stared up at the ceiling, not even bothering to change out of your slightly uncomfortable jeans. The lights were on and all was quiet as you laid trapped in your own thoughts, the inevitable scene of your crush of many, many years leaving replaying on loop inside your head.

You tried to distract yourself by working on some miscellaneous homework assignments, trying to get your work done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

You were just getting in the flow of writing a rough draft for an essay when you heard your mother yell up the steps at you.

“Y/N!” she called, startling you. when you replied with a ‘Yeah?’ she continued, “Chenle is here, I’m sending him up!”

Your heart jumped and you quickly shot up from your bed, trying to get rid of any clothes strewn around your floor to at least make your room somewhat presentable. As you slammed the hamper lid shut, you heard a small knock on the door before Chenle let himself in, already beaming at you.

“Y/N, I have some awesome news!” he immediately spoke, shutting the door behind him. You will yourself not to let your heart sink, already knowing what he wanted to share with you he reached behind him to grab his book bag, and once it was in his grasp he set it on the floor, taking a seat beside you on your bed.

You tried not to let your heart race as his shoulder brushed against yours, and you tried to convert up your nerves by giving him a smile in return. Chenle rummaged through his back before angrily grunting, turning to face you.

“I left something at home that I wanted to show you, shit,” he murmured, his hand coming up to swipe over his face. “I can go grab it real quick–“

“Let’s just go to your room, it’s literally right across. We can climb,” you suggested, wanting to escape the suffocating warmth of your own bedroom. Plus, you were always more comfortable sitting on his mattress anyway. “It’ll be fun, like when we were younger.”

You two both grinned at each other then, Chenle nodding his head in compliance as you both stood, preparing yourselves for the leap out of your bedroom window.

You didn’t bother with a jacket; you were only going to be out in the cold for about five minutes tops, anyway. You allowed him to go first, his body jumping out and landing on the roof of your shed with ease. You quickly followed suit, landing a little rough but still in one piece, nonetheless.

He generously offered to prop you up first so you could skillfully open his window from the outside, which you gladly accepted with a smirk on your lips.

“You’re the best at it.” he replied, slightly whining at your smug reaction. “Always have been. For some reason I can never get it open!!”

You ignored him after that, focusing on keeping your balance on his shoulders while you lifted the window open, pulling yourself up on the sill and throwing yourself inside with a dull thud. You heard the scrapings of Chenle making his way up the side of his house, and he toppled in not long after you.

“I’m definitely never doing that again,” he panted, laying flat on his back on the floor for a few moments. You stared back at him from his bed, giggling at his heavily rising and falling chest. “Maybe not never...but not again anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

He managed to pull himself up from the carpet, dusting off his pants and shrugging off his coat before joining you on the bed. He pulled a piece of paper from his nightstand, and your heart began to pound with untamed anxiety.

“This,” he started, his eyes sparkling as he looked at the piece of paper before looking back at you. “is my acceptance letter to Harvard. I got in, Y/N!!!”

Chenle was so excited, and you couldn’t help but swoon at the absolute elation in his eyes as he went on about what he was accepted for and even what the letter said.

You, of course, didn’t tell him that you already knew, courtesy of Donghyuck. If you would have known that Chenle applied to Harvard, you would have had no doubts from the very beginning that he would get in.

Maybe he didn’t tell anyone just in case he wasn’t accepted, and if no one knew then there would be no one to disappoint.

You knew that no matter what, you could never ever be disappointed in Chenle. He was too smart and too good to ever be thought of in that way.

All you could do was smile and smile some more as he went on, barely breathing before he finally took a short pause. His eyes fell down to look at his denim covered legs, and he bit his lip as you watched him in the sudden quiet of his room.

It didn’t last very long, and he took a deep breath before breaking the short silence.

“They want me to fly out there as soon as possible,” he finally spoke, looking up at you from where his gaze was previously on his lap. “I talked to our school, and they’re willing to let me graduate early. I have all my credits, which is really cool.”

Chenle seemed excited, but he spoke softly, as if he knew how hard this news was for you to hear. You surprised yourself at how composed you were acting, despite the jabbing pain you felt in your heart with every word that passed through his lips.

“That’s great,” you commented, a tight smile lining your face, your voice so close to breaking. “When do you leave?”

A question you didn’t really want the answer to. You didn’t want him to leave at all, and gaining the knowledge of a deadline wouldn’t ease your aching heart any.

He shuffled on the bed, pulling his legs up to sit fully on the mattress facing you. He clasped his hands together and sighed, his bleached blonde hair falling into his eyes.

“The end of December, right before new years,” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes trying to gauge your reaction, even though you weren’t really giving him anything to work with.

That was really soon…

“Wait, but that’s before our semester ends—“

“I know.” he cut you off, smiling brightly. “Like I said, the school is alright with this all happening. They’re really happy for me.”

You sighed, nodding in understanding. It was silent for a moment once more between the two of you; only the sounds of distant cars driving down the otherwise quiet street could be heard for a few moments.

“I just want you to know that I’m really happy for you too, Chenle.” you softly spoke, your hand reaching out to boldly cover his own sitting on the bed in front of you. He stared down at your now touching fingers, but didn’t move to pull away from your warmth.

“Thank you,” he smiled, surprising you by taking your hand in his own and squeezing it, taking your contact with each other a step further. “It means a lot coming from you.”

“Does my approval matter to you?” you questioned, not able to keep it from slipping past your lips. His eyebrows quirked up and he tilted his head a little, looking away briefly before making eye contact once again.

“Yeah, I guess it does.” he replied. “I never really thought about it before, but now that you brought it up...it really does, so thank you.”

You stared at each other then, your lips parted and dry, your brain not sure what to say to him in response. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your ears were consumed with the rhythmic beating and blood rushing happening within your own body.

His brown eyes and dyed blonde hair captivated you and your tongue felt like sandpaper inside your mouth. he looked like he was fighting with himself in a way; restricting his body from moving closer to your own as you sat there in the silence of his room. Your body seemed to mechanically move on its own as it scooted closer to him, your fingers tightening around his as you situated yourself against his body, your face now just next to his. His eyes flicked down to your lips before moving back to your wide eyes, and you felt your stomach jump in anticipation.

Before either of you could do anything, a loud bang came from outside of his bedroom door, followed by a yell from his mother.

You sprung away from each other and you immediately shot up from his bed, already sprinting to his open window from which you came in from. Chenle stood as well, looking between you and the locked door that held his mother back.

“I’ll see you at school.” you hurriedly whispered, taking one more glance at his red cheeks before leaping out the window and down onto the grass below.

You climbed your way up to your own open bedroom window, using the shed and throwing yourself inside quickly before shutting it and closing the curtains. Once you were sure everything was locked and the lights were all off, you slammed yourself down onto your mattress, shoved your face into your pillows, and screamed.

——

“Can we go for a walk around the neighborhood? I want to see all the Christmas lights before people start taking them down.” Chenle spoke through the speaker on your phone, his face not in view on the screen as you FaceTimed each other. You heard shuffling on his end as you focused your attention on your laptop screen, mindlessly shopping online for random things to keep your mind off of the fact that Chenle was leaving in just three days.

The few weeks you had with him passed by like a blur, and you both tried to spend as much time together as possible. Between having to spend time with your family and other friends, it wasn’t as much as you would have liked it to have been.

“Yeah, sure.” you mumbled, closing the laptop on your bed with a soft clack. “Meet you outside in fifteen?”

“Make it ten.” he replied with a smile in his voice, before hanging up.

You sighed heavily before putting your coat on, bundling yourself up for the bite of the cold outside. It was bitterly freezing, and you knew without your whole winter ensemble that you wouldn’t be able to feel your fingers within two seconds flat of being out there.

Fumbling with the buttons and zipper on your coat, you managed to make it outside in seven minutes even, meeting him on the sidewalk just down your driveway.

“Wow, not late for once.” he commented, nudging your shoulder as the two of your began to walk in sync down your brightly lit street.

“Knock it off, I can be on time when I try hard enough.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as you began to take in the beautiful lights around you.

Christmas truly was a beautiful time of year; not just for the holiday itself, because not everyone celebrated it obviously, but for the decorations and the sense of home and warmth.

Chenle and yourself both kept relatively quiet as you walked on, only making noise when you wanted to get each other’s attention to point out certain decorations on some houses. It was rather peaceful, and your heart was swelling with warmth in adoration as you looked to admire his face, which was illuminated by the colorful Christmas lights surrounding you.

Your stomach jolted slightly. This may be the last time you see him for a while. You didn’t mean for the intrusive thought of his absence to wiggle its way into your mind, but it was too late to fight it off.

‘I should just confess’, you thought, now nervously picking at your nails, and chewing your lip to bits. ‘There may not be another chance like this, not for a while.’

It was selfish...but it was now or never.

Too shy to actually confess your feelings first—and thinking back to certain moments that you’ve shared with Chenle to come to this conclusion—you decided to take a different approach.

Get him to confess first.

“I need to ask you something,” you blurted out, your brain scolding your mouth silently for being so goddamn reckless in a moment of weakness.

Maybe this was a bad idea...

Chenle quirked his eyebrow up at you before stopping, turning to face you entirely.

“What’s up?” he replied, his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets in a desperate attempt to keep them warm. His nose was red from the chill in the air and his lips were the same shade from him biting them, the sheen of his chapstick almost completely gone now. His eyes were glassy from the wind blowing and even though his cheeks were blotched in crimson, you thought this was the most beautiful he had ever looked.

You couldn’t do this. Fuck, you really couldn’t do this. Why did you have to open your big, stupid mouth—

“Hey Y/N? Are you in there?” he suddenly broke you from your own thoughts, causing you to jump a little in your boots. “What did you wanna ask me?”

“Uh,” Quick, think of something dumb! “You know, why is perfume so damn expensive?”

You wanted to throw yourself into a frozen lake at this point, as you watched his brow furrow in confusion.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” he bit his lip for about the hundredth time since you started your walk. “Ingredients maybe? Higher end perfumes probably have stuff in them that are more hard to come by, so that’s probably wh—“

“Do you like me?” you interrupted him loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as you practically belted out your original question.

He seemingly froze in front of you, and definitely not from the cold air whipping around your bodies as the wind harshly blew.

“Do I...like you.” he repeated back, formed as a statement more than a question. “Like...as in romantically?”

You didn’t even have to nod for him to know what you meant; the look in your eyes told him enough. The pleading, glassy look as hope swirled beneath your irises, just absolutely begging him to say that yes, he did like you in the way that you liked him.

“Yes,” you confirmed audibly anyway, heat flickering throughout your entire face. “You know, b-because I think before we almost kissed in your room that one time not too long ago, and we’ve been more touchy lately—“ you would have continued on your panicked rambling if he hadn’t cut you off, beginning to speak solemnly.

“Y/N...I..” he started, shaking his head as he tried to get his thoughts straight. “I do. I really do,” your heart jumped at his confession, and you allowed it to spread in your body like wildfire. It didn’t get very far, because he continued to speak. “but I...I can’t.”

You visibly deflated; your heart shattered like glass and everything colorful around you seemed to fade into a greyscale, the holiday lights surrounding the two of you no longer sparking any kind of joy. “This scholarship...my future...it’s important to me. I can’t let anything stop me, I’m so sorry…”

“Chenle...” you whimpered, stepping closer to him boldly, unsure of how to properly express your feelings to him at this point. You dared to breach his personal space, and he watched your every move with those same, glossy brown eyes that you adored every day for so many years.

You tilted your head, your lips ghosting over his own as he let out shaky breaths, yours matching his as you stood together in the cold.

His lips were right there. unmoving, as he didn’t pull away from you. If your leaned forward just a little more...almost….almostalmostalmost—so close—

“Y/N, stop.” he suddenly muttered, pulling you out of your trance. His head drew back as he stepped away, still in your reach but far enough to where your lips weren’t brushing against each other’s anymore.

You gritted your teeth at the rejected feeling that bubbles up inside you, the tears welling your eyes before spilling hotly down your frozen cheeks.

“I love you, Chenle.” you cried, gripping the rough material of his jean jacket. The darkness of the night could have hidden your tears if it weren’t for the moonlight blaring down on the two of you like a spotlight. “Please, I love you.”

He looked like he was trying to hold himself together, his lips set in a straight line as he looked away from you, his hands hovering over your wrists. Chenle gripped them suddenly, not hard, but with enough force to get you to pay attention.

“I love you too, Y/N.” he finally admitted, his voice quiet as he tried to restrain his emotions. “But I can’t pass this up. I just can’t.”

You should have forced yourself to understand. This was his life, for fucks sake. You shouldn’t have let yourself feel selfish, thinking that he would drop everything to stay here. With you.

“We can’t be together. I’m sorry.” he finished with that, slowly dropping your wrists from his hold. “If I…” he swallowed thickly. “If I let you kiss me, I know I wouldn’t be able to leave. I know it.”

He took in your figure at last, watching as your tears fell freely from your eyes in hot rivers down your already stained cheeks.

“Look, maybe someday this would work...but just, not now.” he sounded exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “Your life is here, and my life will be starting there. I’ll be busy constantly and it just...won’t be fair. It really won’t, you have to understand, Y/N.”

He watched as your hands shook when you lifted them to wipe your face, solemnly nodding in acknowledgement to his words.

“Okay.” you croaked, not meeting his eyes as you turned to walk away, leaving him in the middle of the park you used to play at when you were kids.

You weren’t going to put up a fight. You weren’t going to plead with him anymore. You were going to try your absolute hardest to stop yourself from being selfish in that way.

You were just going to have to live with that fact that you couldn’t have him right now. That you almost could have had him.

Almost.

——

Chenle faded out of your life like he wasn’t even present in the first place. You barely heard from him after he left; there would be miscellaneous texts here and there but overall, he was right in the end. He was really always busy.

His school workload was heavy, and you were aware of that, but a selfish part of you always seemed to get angry at him for not responding to you.

The worst part was not knowing whether he wanted to reach out to you at all.

He didn’t come home during summer break, which broke your heart a little bit. Donghyuck tried his best to be there for you as you went through the motions; you were constantly miserable at the reality that you most likely would never call Chenle your own.

Chenle didn’t keep in contact much with Hyuck or Jisung either, seemingly leaving you all in the dust as he went about his new life away from you. His parents talked to him all the time obviously, and your own mother would dawdle on about something that Chenle achieved at school to you, but you’ve come to pretty much ignore everything that had to do with him.

You went about getting your own education, passing your classes by the skin of your teeth during the first semester and then producing the same results during the semester after that.

You really couldn’t blame yourself for feeling so utterly heartbroken; you were in love with that boy for most of your life, and for him to suddenly rip himself away from you like that was wholeheartedly agonizing.

Chenle rarely ever came home; he did briefly for Christmas, but then hurriedly left immediately after, not even staying for the full duration of his break.

You actually ran into him by accident one day while he was still home, but you didn’t stay in his presence very long before wanting to go to the safety of your bedroom and cry.

“Did you even miss me?” you whimpered out, exhausted after your small talk had turned into a bit of an argument. He sighed heavily, frustrated no doubt. you could hear it in his voice as he spoke to you.

“What do you want me say, Y/N?” he countered, scoffing at you as you held back the pain you felt burning behind your eyes, desperate to cry. “I haven’t even had the time to miss anyone, let alone you.”

You stood in silence for a moment, baffled at his dismissive attitude of it all. It’s like he didn’t even remember that he told you he liked you too all those months ago.

“You...” your voice cracked a little, and you looked away from him. “Did you even try, Chenle? Did you even try to find the time to talk to me?”

He didn’t say anything back, only staring at you before tearing his eyes away, his jaw locked. You felt as if you already knew the answer.

You turned to leave, but felt his hand immediately circle around your arm, roughly pulling you back to face him. Taking one look at his face, you knew he was angry.

“Do you know how much it hurt, Y/N?” he barked out, making you flinch back slightly. “Do you know how much it hurt to leave you? I–“ he cut himself off as his voice cracked, turning his head away and swallowing heavily before continuing. “I wanted to, so bad Y/N. You have no idea.”

Your lips parted in shock, and you had a million things you wanted to say, but you managed to keep it all inside as he went on.

“But I had to control myself. I already came to terms with the fact that this,” he gestured between the two of you, “wasn't going to ever work out. I figured that out a long time ago... I had to distance myself from you, I’m sorry.”

You really didn’t want to accept that apology. You really really didn’t. Your anger was swirling inside you, a typhoon of emotions building and building as you stared back into his now cold brown eyes. To you, they used to be so full of warmth and friendliness, and now they looked distant and unentertained, like he didn’t want to be here in the first place.

That hurt like a bitch.

You scoffed at him, making his eyebrows raise in confusion before they furrowed, his eyes narrowed at you.

Yeah, you were probably being a bitch for not accepting his apology, and all of this was turning out to be super petty, but you felt like he deserved it just a little bit.

Deep down you knew he had a point; his reasoning was valid and it all made sense, but when did having feelings for someone like you had for him ever lead to rational decision making?

“You know, Chenle,” you started, shoving your hands in your pockets roughly to shield them from the cold. “I really thought that we could still be friends after all the bullshit, I really did.” He watched you carefully as you practically spat forth those words, venom dripping in your tone. “But then you went and messed it all up.”

You probably shouldn’t have added that last part; playing the blame game never worked in anyone’s favor in the end, but your emotions once again got the best of you.

Smoke practically blew out his ears as his mouth parted in shock. Your heart dropped when you heard the sound of sarcastic laughter falling out of his mouth, knowing full well that you fucked up this time.

“I messed it up? Me??” He was pointing to his own chest for emphasis, and you had the audacity to give him a quick nod. “Ahah, wow Y/N, that’s really rich coming from you.”

You didn’t even have a second to get a word in before he crowded your space, so close that your chests were touching. You drew in a sharp breath, not sure what in the hell he was doing right now.

“You were the one that was practically begging me to kiss you that night, remember? You were trying so hard,” he spat, so close to your face now that you couldn’t even feel the cold nipping at your cheeks anymore (whether it be from the embarrassment lacing through your veins or the extensive heat from his body, you weren’t sure).

You couldn’t think of anything to say in response; all you knew was that he was dishing out pretty low blows, and each word was like a knife being plunged into your chest.

“Like, how desperate are you?” he added in, now moving his hands to grip your waist, making you squeak in surprise. “You want a kiss so bad? Get fucking ready.”

You weren’t sure what he meant and your brain was having such a hard time comprehending anything going on in that moment, the pressure of his hands gripping your waist making all thoughts fly out of your head besides one.

Him.

“Wait, Chenle–“ you placed a hand on his chest to try to push him away, unsure of how you felt about this situation.

“What, you don’t want it now?” his voice was borderline malicious as he spoke to you now, making you feel incredibly small and vulnerable under his gaze.

“No I–“

“You come to me and give me all that bullshit, and now when I’m trying to give you something that you wanted,” his grip grew tighter. “you don’t want it anymore? Make up your damn mind, Y/N.”

You did want it. There was still a huge part of you that screamed at you to just let it happen, but you knew it would be wrong. So fucking wrong. He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to; he was doing this because he wanted all this to end right here.

You were scared. He was scaring you with the way he was acting right now.

“Chenle, please—“

“Just shut up.”

Chenle didn’t allow you to get another word in before he crashed his lips against yours, roughly pressing his against your own so abruptly that you felt your teeth pierce the inside of yours. You tasted blood, but it wasn’t the first thing on your mind at the moment; Chenle moved his mouth against yours aggressively and without any emotion besides anger behind it, and you absolutely hated it.

Sure, it felt nice to finally get what you wanted, but in a way, you definitely were not. This isn’t what you wanted at all. You wanted to love him and you wanted him to love you...and you wanted it to feel nice.

His hands slid down to your hips and your stomach jumped in surprise as you tried desperately to match his pace to at least kiss him back a little bit. It didn’t last long, and with a strong push on your hips he effectively pulled away, your body stumbling back from the force of his shove.

His lips were red and puffy and his eyes were dark as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, panting slightly. You probably looked somewhat the same, but didn’t even move from where you stood as he stared at you. You felt your eyes become glassy from staring into space too long, and you felt your hands shake, but most definitely not from the cold.

“There’s your fucking kiss.” He finally said, taking two steps back. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

You didn’t even watch him walk back into his house. You ran as fast as you could back into your own home and immediately slammed the front door shut behind you, darting up the stairs without a single word.

You barged into your bedroom and without even removing your winter garments, you threw yourself down onto your mattress for what seemed like the millionth time in the last year, and began to sob.

——

Chenle’s parents said that he had commitments at the school, some sort of research or whatever, and that’s why he couldn’t stay home long. At the time, all you really thought was ‘good riddance’, but you knew that your heart would be back to obsessing over him in no time, even after what had happened between the two of you on the day you try so hard not to remember.

Well, at least he was flourishing at school.

When Donghyuck found out what had happened between you and Chenle during the time he was home from university, he was ready to kill someone. That someone being Chenle.

“He did what to you?!” Donghyuck screamed over the phone, causing you to pull it from your ear from the sheer volume of his screeching. “I’ll kill him, Y/N. I swear I’ll fucking kill that kid.”

“No need, Hyuckie. It’s not that big of a deal.” you replied somberly, sighing as you relaxed on your mattress against your pillows.

“Not a big deal??? Angel, he basically forced that shit on you,” Hyuck was speaking softly to you now, a stark contrast to his yelling from a few moments prior. “You should be furious at him. You need to tell someone—“

“I’m not mad,” you replied quietly, chewing on your bottom lip. “A part of me wanted that to happen, Hyuck. It just…” your voice trailed off, your brain trying to think of the right words to say. “Wasn’t what I was expecting, is all.”

The line was quiet and you weren’t sure what to say next, and Donghyuck must have felt the same. It was a really fucked up situation, you had to admit.

“I think I…” your voice sounded broken, but you continued. “I think I still love him.” The words came out as a whisper and they surprised even yourself, not expecting to admit such a thing after all that has happened.

“Oh, angel…” was all Donghyuck replied with before you quickly made up some lame excuse to hang up the call with him. You hurriedly pressed the ‘end call’ button and threw yourself back on the bed, spacing out once again just like you always do.

You managed to bear with not seeing or talking to Chenle after the incident (a huge part of you didn’t want to, after hearing what he had to say and also what he did during Christmas break), but when you stumbled across a post of his one night a couple months after while scrolling through Instagram, it had your heart shattering completely.

“What the fuck,” you whimpered, already struggling to hold back tears as your watery eyes stared daggers at the photo displayed on your screen. “What. The. Fuck?” you said it louder this time, with more malice, and you threw your phone across your bed to get it away from you.

Chenle had posted a photo of himself and another girl, kissing each other while snow fell in some random park you didn’t give a fuck about. He found someone else. He fell for someone else.

The hypocrisy.....he didn’t want to be with you because he wanted to focus on school, but then he goes and starts up a relationship with someone else anyway?

Maybe he did it to spite you.

At first, you felt pathetic for crying about it. You tried to muffle your cries in your pillow, holding back the ugly sobs that you so desperately wanted to let out. You silently cried, your heart aching and your lungs gasping for air as you fought the pain in the dark pit inside your chest.

You began to grow angry after a while, your thoughts spinning wildly out of control as your chest heaved, your nails digging into your sheets to keep yourself from clawing at your own burning throat.

You screamed.

You screamed and screamed and cried until there was nothing left inside you. You needed to let out the festering hatred you had grown for him since he left over a year ago. It was ugly and it was cacophonous, but you didn’t care anymore.

Your parents were luckily out, and you didn’t give a fuck about your neighbors. You poured out every raw emotion you felt until you sensed yourself beginning to calm; your chest no longer rose and fell like you had been running a marathon, your heartbeat quieted to a low thrum in your ears instead of a pounding drum, and your muscles relaxed, allowing you to lie down flat against your mattress.

Your pillow was soaked through with tears and your head was thumping, like your brain was smashing a baseball bat to the inside of your skull. You breathed in, five long seconds, and breathed out, seven seconds more, before bathing in the quiet of your room.

Your phoned buzzed from the end of your bed, and you hesitantly picked your head up, sliding to sit and reach for it tentatively.

It was a text message.

From: donghyuckie :P

hey, saw chenle’s post. ice cream in 20? I’ll pick you up

You smiled, surprising yourself entirely, as if you weren’t just screaming your head off just five minutes ago. You were incredibly happy to have such a good friend in your life, immediately knowing what you needed when you needed it. You were quick to reply.

To: donghyuckie :P

sounds good, I’ll see you then :)

You smiled again, and didn’t stop the whole night, Donghyuck's presence always comforting and joyful.

You would be okay, you knew you would. All you had to do was just live your own life, forget about Chenle, and be happy...always with a smile.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nctcreations #nct: almost #chenle #zhong chenle #nct #nct dream #chenle angst #chenle scenarios #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #idk how to tag shjsjs #chenle fanfic #???#chenle x reader

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Nude

Run through - Steve wants to try new things so he takes a painting class with a nude painting subject. Only the woman he has to paint are you, Peppers assistant and his crush.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Steve Rogers was many things. He was an artist, an amateur cook (who really does try), a loyal friend, a good citizen, a soldier. Yet when people looked at him, they only ever saw the captain. His friends called him cap. He'd go weeks without hearing his own name. Sometimes he felt the lines were blurred. When did Steve Rogers end and Captain America begin?

He had a big wake up call when he confronted Tony, saying he wasn’t iron man, it was an alter ego. To which Tony said that Steve was basically captain America. And Steve couldn’t argue or disagree, because it was true. He didn’t want to lose himself in his work anymore than he already had. His therapist told him to make healthy boundaries, which is what he’s going to do.

So he ordered some colors and pencils online and got to work on his art, for the first time in a long time. It was exhilarating and freeing. He could lose himself in it, go on for hours without thinking and seeing anything but the colors and his canvas. Which was extremely rare for him. He could rarely ever shut his brain off or run from his traumatic memories.

Everyone could see the visible change in him. How he seemed happier. Clint even joked about it saying

“Cap must be getting some”

To which Steve only snorted. There was no room for anything as complicated as a relationship or sex in his life, not right now.

But wouldn’t it be nice? To have a woman to hold and to paint. To love and care for. He didn’t let himself delve too much into that fantasy. Because even if it was a nice escape once in a while, he knew that while Steve Rogers might make a good partner, Captain America would certainly not. He would never subject any woman to deal with either of them.

With some encouragement from Sam and his old friends he started attending painting classes at his alma mater, the Brooklyn College, every Saturday evening. It helped him make some friends. He didn’t know if he could call them friends. Most of them were too different from him. They seemed like different types of 'tortured artists'

When he heard that there would be a nude subject to paint the next class, he was a little bit hesitant. Such a thing would’ve been scandalous in the 40s. But he was trying to open himself up and that meant pushing his comfort zone, even just a little bit.

When he set up his canvas, oil colors and brushes that Saturday he expected male subject. He didn’t however expect to hear a woman’s voice. He was too focused on his set up to look up, whatever. He didn’t care if it was a man or a woman. There wouldn't be anything erotic about it. This was strictly professional and educational.

He looked up to take a good look at his subject, when he felt as if his soul was knocked out of him. There you stood, his crush, Pepper Potts' assistant, and the woman who turned him down.

“You know back in my day they used to play elevator music” He said to drown out the awkward silence. Even after all this time, he still didn’t know how to talk to women. He had had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You were always so funny and sweet. Asking him and everyone about their day, if they were doing well. Always willing to help others.

When he let it slip that he likes banana bread, you baked him a whole loaf of it, which chocolate chips so ‘so you think of me when you have them. They’re my signature of sorts' you had said proudly. Of course he’d be thinking of you when he ate it. Overthinking actually. Wondering If you like him as he likes you, or if you’re just being your sweet self.

“Oh we still have that!” You chirped “but not in um professional or business buildings like these”

He just nodded. Tapping his foot impatiently. You would get off in just six floors it was now or never. “Hey uh – what are you doing this Friday?” he asked shyly.

“Oh just watching some Gordon Ramsay with my dog probably. I have no life” you laughed at your own self depreciating joke “Why?” you tilted your head.

“I was thinking, maybe we could get dinner? Only if you uh – you wanted to, you're free to say no” he promised. Maybe he should’ve asked you to ‘hang out' or 'for a coffee' like most people these days. But he felt that was no way to treat a lady, especially one like you.

“Oh Steve” he was already disappointed upon hearing your tone “I would’ve loved to. But even though we don’t work together, it wouldn’t look good you know? I mean I don’t care much for 'my image'” You said making air quotes “But I don’t, it’ll be complicated” You looked completely defeated. As if it hurt you to say no more than it hurt him to hear it.

“I completely understand” He nodded “no hard feelings” he gave you a smile as he watched you walk away. It did break his heart a bit, but he’d respect your feelings.

He looked at you taking off your satin robe revealing your bare body to the class of twenty or so artists. His breathe hitched. Your hair flowing down your back and covering a bit of your left breast, your soft stomach and thighs, the patch of soft curls at your core, your nipples hard against the chilly air, and how your stomach rolled a bit as you sat uncomfortably on the stool. You were beautiful. A work of art even. There was absolutely no way he could do you justice. He started drawing an outline on his canvas. You would very well be his best subject.

You looked around a bit, your fingers holding onto the stool for dear life so you could stave off the anxiety and feeling of being so exposed. Then your eyes landed on him. You thought you were dreaming, maybe you didn’t see properly, so you did a double take. Then you were frozen on the spot. There he was, Captain Rogers, the first Avenger, the man you often dreamt about, sitting right in front of you while you were naked as the day you were born.

You had no idea what you should do. This was literally like a nightmare come true. If you flee it would look bad, if you didn’t it might look worse. You decided you’d follow his lead. So you peeked a glance at him from the corner of your eyes and saw him, sketching you? Holy shit Steve Rogers was drawing a nude portrait of you. What has your life become?

You had always been insecure about your body. You knew magazines, porn and movies were meant to feed people lies to get them to buy more things. That didn’t make you feel any less bad about not looking anything like the women in them. You tried to remind yourself that you have many things going for you. Like your supporting family, your loving friends, your cute labrador, your amazing job.

Speaking of your job, exactly why you turned Steve freaking Rogers down! A man that looks like him asking you out and you say no. Your friends flat out laughed in your face at your unfortunate predicament, where the cake is right there but you can't eat it. Now that you thought about it, it was funny.

Your co-workers weren’t kind to you. Even on your best day you didn’t look anything like the women you worked with, who would stab you in the back the first chance the get. You were kind to everyone, but you knew by now not to expect the same treatment back. Which was why you had to say no to the beefy blonde. You didn’t want to be branded as the ‘office slut’.

Which now you were sure you would be. You didn’t know Steve enough to know he’d be willing to keep this a secret. He didn’t seem like someone who would do that to you. But you still couldn’t help but think the worst.

You squirmed and shivered in the chair for a good part of the next two hours. By the end your back was sore and you did everything you could to avoid looking at Steve, only sneaking glances here and there, while he seemed too engrossed in his work.

You had done this a couple of times before, to accept your body for what it is and get comfortable with it. If you weren’t going to love it no one would do it for you. Finally the time was up and the artists were asked to pack up for the day.

You quickly got up from your stool putting the robe back on. You turned your back to Steve, stretching your muscles. You couldn’t wait to lay down on your comfy bed and just get out of here. But you knew you needed to have that inevitable conversation. You probably would never be able to look Steve in the eye after this.

You walked towards him as he was cleaning up his work station. “Fancy seeing you here” You cringed at your embarrassing attempt at a British accent.

“Hey there” He gave you a bashful smile scratching the back of his head “I didn’t expect to see you here”

“Right back at ya” you returned his smile, no longer feeling on edge. It was strange how his presence served to comfort you.

“You do this often” he asked casually. You couldn’t really hear any judgement in his tone, not what you would expect from a hundred year old.

“No not really. It just uh – I’m trying to love myself. Which I already do! Of course” you let out a nervous chuckle “just trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone”

“That makes two of us” he said as he was done packing his bag, which he was deliberately doing at a slow pace. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Can I... Look at your painting?” You asked nervously. You didn’t know if you wanted to see his interpretation of your naked body, what if it was bad? But what if it was good? What if he was impressed by you...

“Uh it’s not done yet. And frankly I’m not that good”

“I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen the sketches in your office” You caught your slip of tongue. You couldn’t let him know about your borderline unhealthy obsession with him.

“Well, have a look then” he relented showing you his canvas.

You let out a breathe you didn’t even know you were holding at the painting. It was breath-taking. The woman looked like you, but why was she so beautiful and graceful? In the painting she was sitting on a stool, like you, in front of a tree admiring a rose in her hand. She was naked as well. It reminded you of classic Greek paintings where women weren’t perfect, but were celebrated for their imperfections.

“It’s amazing Steve. I – do I look like that?” You stammered not being able to tear your eyes off the painting.

He shook his head at your shock “On the contrary you look much better I’m glad you like it”

“You’re a great artist” you gushed

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen much better” he said humbly.

You would argue with him. But you knew it would be of no use. Looking at the beautiful woman in the painting gave you the surge of confidence you needed “Steve, does the offer for that dinner still stand?” You straightened your back looking up to lock eyes with him.

“Yes” He blurted without even thinking “how about tomorrow evening?” He asked.

“Yes that will be awesome! You can pick me up at seven. I’ll text you the address“ you said making an mental note to do so.

You could hardly wait for your date. You didn’t really care about what your co-workers would think of you. As long as you were happy their opinions didn’t matter.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or send me an ask!

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

This was actually a request. But I can't fir the life of me find the person who requested it. I hope you see it babes❤

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve Rogers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader

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physicalturian · 4 years

Text

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 2

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5016 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Flirting … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

-- Part 1 -

The heat of two bodies against one another. Skin upon skin, fingers grazing tenderly. Hands gripping suddenly, forcefully yet securely. I am holding onto dear life on his broad shoulders. My nails digging inside the skin. It makes him grunt in pleasure. I can’t hear it over my own sound of pleasure. My head lolls back, my neck is being attacked. Bites, kisses and words against it. My entire body is aflame. I’m now holding onto the bed head. I’m not surrounded by darkness anymore.

The landscape has changed, I’m not on my bed. It’s a hospital bed. No one is around, someone is on top of me, I can’t see their face. But it feels good. Hot breath against my skin, soft hands on my hips. The increasing pressure inside-

“Hey wake up! If you want to ride with me to campus, you better get your ass out of bed.” I was startled awake by one of my roommates who seemed on edge. From what my brain understood, I was late and from the look on her face, she was pissed.

Squinting my eyes at the sudden light from her brusque action of opening the curtains, I groaned. Her heels hitting the floor made my ears ring, it was too much too quickly but I wasn’t going to say anything. The ginger girl was stopped dead in her track by a hand on her shoulder, a softer voice spoke, “Come on Nami, look at her. Clearly, she went to sleep late again, give her some time to clear her head.” Robin said a lot calmer. With a small smile, she gave me a nod and pushed Nami out of the room.

“You have ten minutes at best, hurry up. She has plans today.”

“And I am hungry, could you make me a sandwich while I get dressed Robin?” I asked with the softest pleading eyes I could manage at this hour. She smiled knowingly in return and nodded, but did not leave until she added, “It’s the last time you leave crumbs on the counter from your midnight snacks.”

With wide eyes, I grimaced and nodded. It made her chuckle as she closed the door behind herself and left without a word.

The moment I was left alone, I remembered the dream I was having and hurriedly got out of bed. “Nasty brain, naughty.” I mumbled while undressing. Sure, erotic dreams weren’t bad, but the fact that I had dreamt about that stranger was something entirely new. Maybe it was to be expected if we interacted more like we did last night, if we had more sessions like last night’s one. Damn, am I that needy for a good fuck? Is this what I’ve become? I thought with a huff.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my phone and all that I needed for class before leaving the room. On my way out I saw the notification that had popped on my screen, a message from the doctor but it was one from last night.

HandSurgeon: I’ll allow you to call me doc, just because my username is not very adequate when shortened. But watch it.

Looking at it I laughed and wrote back, albeit later than when he had sent his message.

Edelweiss: Good morning to you too, doc. Hope you were able to catch some z’s, because of you I almost missed my class.

Edelweiss: kidding, it’s entire my fault but I want to blame it on you for the fun.

I shoved my phone in my pocket when I heard my two friends’ voices, telling me I needed to hurry and hurry I did. I grabbed the sandwich Robin handed me and thanked her with all my heart, telling her I’d make the food tonight but she told me she’d rather not die of food poisoning at a young age.

“Come on, I can make some things! We’ll order in, then?” I said, leaning on the counter with a grin as I took a bite of the food.

“Careful, Nami has invited her best friend tonight. He’s constantly famished, and eats a large amount of food so I’ll take you up on that offer another day. Now off you go, Nami’s waiting in her car.”

Giving her a thumbs up I leaned off the counter and pondered, “So Nami’s cooking tonight? I see why she’s stressed out now. Anyone else coming by?” I asked quickly. Robin chuckled elegantly, her back leaning against the counter, in front of me, with her arms crossed over her chest. “He might bring one of his friends, but it all depends on his schedule. Nothing definitive yes. Now off you go!” She shooed me, smiling. Most of her classes were in the evening, and yet she woke up that early every day.

It was also fascinating how, even when in her pajamas she looked so dignified.

Without losing any more time, I waved her goodbye and rushed down all the flight of stairs to jump into Nami’s car. “Good morning-“ I closed my mouth when she gestured for me to shut up, pointing at her ear and at the board. Looking at the screen, she was on a call with someone but started the car without another word. I could only hear her replies, but tried not to eavesdrop. To stop myself from falling asleep, I took my phone once more and saw a message from HandSurgeon.

I hated how it sent excitement coursing through my body. Was I remembering the thrill of last night or was I that interested in talking to him? I did not ponder the question longer and opened the app.

HandSurgeon: Good morning Edelweiss. Are you feeling good? Physically.

HandSurgeon: We’ve barely done anything. But don’t worry, you’ll blame me later when we’ll have more fun.

Edelweiss: I’m great, a bit sore but that’s on me.

Edelweiss: don’t threaten me with a good time 😩, you can’t start the horny talk this early in the morning. How do you expect me to focus during my classes?

HandSurgeon: Haha, I’ll stop. Do you have time to talk?

Edelweiss: ominous much? But yes, I do have time to talk. Something on your mind?

A knot formed in my stomach, I started to worry he’d say we couldn’t keep doing this. Would it be that bad? We’d known each other for so little time, it’s not like I couldn’t find someone else to fuck.

I huffed at my own thought, I could find someone else but did they have HandSurgeon’s charisma? Unfortunately, no, I was bound to be horny for a strong doctor that I did not even know the face of.

HandSurgeon: I got a bit too excited last night, I forgot to mention the most important info.

HandSurgeon: Those being: we can stop whenever you’d like. We can try whatever you feel comfortable trying. If you said you were ready to do something, but in the end feel like you can’t do it: tell me. You can change your mind, it works the other way around, too. You can say you want to try something even though you were against it at first.

HandSurgeon: I won’t always be up to… play but I will be willing to help you if you ask nicely. And if I’m awake.

HandSurgeon: Finally, always call me sir, during our sessions.

I hid the relief I fell in real life, when I read all his messages. I did not want Nami to ask me what was wrong, nor who I was texting, but it was hard to hide the satisfied smile on my lips. Pursing my lips, I thought of what to answer without looking too desperate.

Even with the thought put into it, I read my message over a few times and desperation dripped out of it.

Edelweiss: you scared me, I thought you were going to just disappear or something. I’m good with all of this. If I can add one, be honest with me? Like, uh…

Edelweiss: If I’m being too pushy, but you’re busy, tell me, I’ll calm down haha.

Edelweiss: So… I agree to the terms, sir.

I saw him type, then stop. Then type again, before stopping again. Had I said something bad? I was going to put my phone away when he replied.

HandSurgeon: Good girl.

HandSurgeon: Now, I won’t be able to play tonight, but I’ll be free to text if you’d like.

HandSurgeon: It’ll give you time to rest, that way we’ll fuck you good once you’re feeling better.

I choked on my saliva. Why was he this casual saying things like this?

Edelweiss: I-

Edelweiss: I said don’t get me horny, the audacity you have to be that good with your words.

Edelweiss: I’ll be busy tonight too, but I’ll text you if it gets a bit boring.

Edelweiss: Also, are you not like… cutting people open or something? Why would you be awake this early with how late you went to sleep?

HandSurgeon: It’s cute how easy it is to get you flustered. Very interesting too. But I’ll stop for now.

HandSurgeon: Since you’re curious, I’m in bed. I have to meet with my intern in an hour, he’s very eager to learn.

HandSurgeon: Just like you, but maybe I find one more satisfying than the other 😉

Staring at the screen, I hesitated and felt my cheeks heat up. I wanted to be horny and ask him for a picture, or be funny and ask him for a picture. Both could work together, but should I flirt or ask in the most stupid way possible? I was curious if he’d be willing to send anything, I’m sure it’d make my day if he did send me a picture but I did not want him to force him either. You can’t force a dom to do shit, idiot, my common sense told me.

Edelweiss: send pic or fake.

HandSurgeon: Of my intern?

Good fucking lord, I’m an idiot. I typed back quickly, trying to fix my stupidity.

Edelweiss: of you in bed.

Edelweiss: maybe I’m asking for a nude? 🤔

HandSurgeon: Are you, now? What sparked that need? Do tell me. I’ll consider.

Edelweiss: I’m curious, and I wonder if you sleep dressed or not 😳

Hit and run. That’s all I could call what I had done. I dropped that message then locked my screen and stared straight ahead, regretting sending it. I couldn’t delete it since he had probably seen in, considering we were both online at the same time. We were both staring at the conversation, craving for more, awaiting the other’s reply to weight our own answer in return.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I rested my elbow on the small space by the window and felt my heart beat faster. I shouldn’t feel like that, I had literally fucked myself to his guidance hours ago. And yet, there was this stressed from asking him nudes. I mean, I hadn’t asked a dick pic per say… If he slept in pajamas it clearly wouldn’t be a nude, so…

My phone vibrated in my hand, I looked down so quickly my head slipped off my hand and hit the window with a thud. “Are you good? You look nervous, do you have a final today or…” I heard Nami ask. She threw me a side glance but kept her gaze focused on the road.

I was so focused on my own conversation; I had not realized she was done with her call. Had she been watching all of my reaction since then? No… no, probably not.

“I’m good, just need a bit of sugar.” I paused and continued casually, “Robin told me Luffy’s inviting someone tonight? Are you cooking or are you planning on ordering? They better pay their own shit, if we order in.” I grumbled, hoping to make her drop the subject.

I needed to stay focus on what she was saying but my brain was drifting to the pending message on Discord. Fortunately, my distraction worked and she replied, “If he’s coming, I’ll make him pay the entire orders.” She scoffed as she pulled up into the parking, her eyes still focused in front of her. “He owes me, and since it’s last minute, I’ll use that against him to not pay my food.” She added. I laughed at her logic, was it really last minute if she knew he was coming since this morning? Shaking my head, I unlocked my phone and opened the text.

HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

While I masked my reaction, my eyes sure widened for the span of a second. On that very screen was a picture of the doctor, or more precisely, his crotch covered with just a thin blanket covering it. I could see the shape of his cock, and it made it more sinful than a full dick pic. The v shape of his lower stomach, along with the happy trail, made the whole thing hotter than it was supposed to be. Is this for fucking real? Thinking for a second it might be a catfish, I finally looked at the rest of the pic and saw a badly torn piece of paper with the word ‘Edelweiss’ scribbled badly on it.

“Damn, who’s is this? Girl, you tapping that?” I quickly turned my phone face down and looked at Nami with what probably looked like guilt. “What? No. I’m on Twitter. I don’t have time to literally fuck around, too busy.” I stated, putting my hand on the door handle as I took hold of my bag.

She was about to say something else, but we spoke at the same time and she let me talk. “What time do you finish? I’ll be done around 5 pm if you’re still there.” I stepped outside the car and slammed it shut, waiting for my ginger friend to join me.

“Around that time too, we’ll head right back home after. I think Luffy and his annoying friend will already be there. I’ll sent you the menu, so that you can pick from it.” She then hurried off when she saw one of her classmates waving her over.

I let out a sigh and looked back at my phone, typing back while marching towards my class.

Edelweiss: Are you kidding me? Dude…

HandSurgeon: I’d prefer you call me doc than dude. Although sir is the most appealing… But what’s wrong?

Edelweiss: You’re telling me, someone that hot is on weird websites when I’m sure anyone would want to fuck you. No offense, but you’re probably very hot, so why are you like… domming online? Instead of your own pretty little sub in real life? Not that I’m complaining! I like it.

HandSurgeon: Schedule is shit. And I’ve been told I’m bitter. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it, I’ll get dressed now. You focus on your class.

Edelweiss: Oh I am definitely enjoying it, a lot.

Edelweiss: by the way, I came to a realization this morning…

Then we sent a message at the same time, I laughed nervously.

HandSurgeon: So you think of me when you sleep? Very cute.

Edelweiss: my brain was slow last night, but like. Did you sext me while in your office?

Edelweiss: maybe I did think of you in my sleep, but I don’t think we need to talk about that, my question is definitely more important.

I almost tripped over nothing, from looking at my phone instead of the path but I managed to make my way to class without a hitch. Throwing my bag over the desk, I sat down and waited for my professor. Checking Discord once more,

HandSurgeon: I did. It’ll happen a lot too.

Edelweiss: damn that means no sexy live for you

I replied without thinking. The loudest sigh escaped my lips, what even did I mean by that? Was I really considering giving him a show? What was I expecting from telling him that? I mean sure, if time goes on and I get more comfortable it could be fun…

HandSurgeon: If that day comes, I’ll be sure to get my earphones. I’m sure you’d actually enjoy the thrill of showing yourself off. Knowing full well I’m watching, maybe with a hand in my pants, ordering you around. There will be a “sexy live”, if you’re comfortable enough… The fact that I’m in my office only adds to the charm. Wouldn’t you say?

I blinked a few times, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I typed something then deleted it. I paused and typed again, before deleting it once more. Was he wrong? It was very exciting, just thinking about it. Even more so knowing he was willing to be in that situation, at his desk, looking at me getting off under his command. But also, even more knowing he’d be at his work place, where anyone could walk in on him being in such an embarrassing situation.

HandSurgeon: It looks like you’re speechless. But do answer me, would you get off on knowing someone could walk in? Knowing we could get caught, knowing they could see you fucking yourself on screen just for me. Just to please me. They wouldn’t know it’s you, but you’d know. My good girl fucking herself, showing off her perfectly fuckable body just for me.

I let my head fall back against the seat and took a deep breath. I felt suddenly self-conscious, even though I knew no one knew what was going on, on my screen. And yet, I had to look around to make sure before typing with a lot of hesitance. He hit the spot, I hated how right he was. But I replied in all honesty.

Edelweiss: …

Edelweiss: yes…

Edelweiss: I’d like that…. sir…

Edelweiss: I need to focus on my class, but now I don’t know if I’ll be able since you just went off and made me very much distracted now.

HandSurgeon: My hand slipped.

Edelweiss: the a u d a c i t y, then do tell me where it’ll slip next time 😉

Edelweiss: ok, no. that was bad. I’m trying, I’m not as good as you okay?

HandSurgeon: I think it’s a conversation best kept for late hours, wouldn’t you say?

HandSurgeon: I have to go. Focus on your class, or think of where you’d like my hands to go. The choice is yours, Edelweiss.

HandSurgeon: [send an attachment]

There it was, another picture of him. This time it was his gloved hand gripping the fabric around his thigh tightly, the sleeve of his long shirt was slightly risen. I could catch a glimpse of the hair on his arm but focused on the length of his slender fingers. Of the way his fingertips were digging in his pants, of the lines his muscles drew on the back of his hand and maybe of, once again, the fact that he was sitting at his desk. Instead of replying, I took it in and locked my screen to try and focus on the class.

I never thought I’d have a medical kink, but my thought would sometimes drift off, imagining him in his full surgeon outfit. Sitting on his chair, legs spread open while looking at me with a smirk. What it’d look like, I do not know, but I could only imagine the sultry gaze he could give me while in that position. He’d pat his thigh for me to come over and let me ride it- Shaking the thoughts away, I told myself to focus, and tried my best to keep up to that promise.

The rest of the day, I kept my hands off my phone the best I could. I wanted to keep texting HandSurgeon and have some fun, tease him the way he was teasing me but I did not know how to push his buttons. Suddenly I realized I had never asked what were his kinks. By default, being in control must have been one of them, but I was curious as of what else he enjoyed. I made a mental note to ask him next time we talked, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, it all depended on tonight’s fun.

Right, tonight… I don’t even know who’s the guy that’s coming over. Nami said that Luffy’s friend was annoying but maybe she was a bit biased since she was easily frustrated, which was ironic considering her best friend was the most tiring person ever. At some point during the day, she sent me a text with the name of the restaurant we were ordering at and told me to pick whatever I wanted.

Seeing the prices, I had to make sure she had sent me the right restaurant and sent her a text asking if it was alright. Her reply was, “I told you he owed me, he said to choose whatever restaurant I wanted. And I did. He has the money, might as well use it.”

I winced at her words and sent her my choice with a lot of reticence, adding, “If I get yelled that for picking something, even though I don’t know the guy, you’ll pay for my food.” She was quick to reply and told me it’ll be okay. “The dude might bitch and moan about it but he’ll eventually accept it” were her words. I don’t really know if it had helped or worsened my anxiety but I just let her do her thing and went on with the rest of my day without a hitch.

I was able to focus on my classes and assignments after a while, when my brain finally decided to shove the whole HandSurgeon conversation in the back of my head.

The day came to an end right on time. I had done my fair share of thinking for the day and needed a break. Knowing a nice warm meal was waiting for me at my apartment only made things ten times better. I rushed out of my last class with haste, almost bumping into other people and dropping my phone but I caught it before anything dramatic could happen.

When I stepped outside, I was met with a drizzle and had to walk faster to Nami’s car. I was lucky to see she was already there, waiting inside of it with music playing loudly. She was trying to fix her hair the best she could, and gave up when it looked half-decent. A startled gasp escaped her lips when I opened the car door and slipped inside, greeting her, out of breath.

“You scared me!” She gasped, a hand on her chest.

“Is it my fault? You’re on edge, not me.” I huffed, throwing my bag in the back of the car, making the ginger groan when she received a few droplets on her clothes. Apologizing, I buckled my seatbelt and we drove back home in a good mood. Food always lifted spirits, even more so after a draining day. On our way home, Nami started renting on how I will have to keep Luffy’s friend away from her because she couldn’t handle his attitude.

I did not dare ask her what happened but listened carefully. She did not give me any useful information about him, only telling me he was “arrogant, annoying, he’s bitchy and way too cocky because of his job.” I winced and was expecting the worst, probably a business man that was too proud of making money or a politician. No, no… Luffy would never befriend people like that, right?

All kind of ideas simmered in my head until we reached our apartment. I don’t know why, but I was going to knock. I quickly caught myself and unlocked the door, hanging my coat in the entrance as I took off my shoes. “Robin? Have they arrived yet-“ I was cut off when the excited black-haired man came rushing in and wrapped his arms around both Nami and I. She laughed and hugged him back, while I pushed him away, smiling softly. “Hello Luffy, let me get changed first? I smell like a wet dog.” I scoffed.

He agreed and pulled Nami to the side, bringing her to the living room. I did not look their way and instead went back to my room to get changed. Maybe I could catch him before he went to his evening activity? I kind of wanted to have a bit of fun before going back to eat… But then again, did I have time? Humming pensively, I locked my door and stripped naked then pulled out my phone.

Edelweiss: Good evening, can I suggest something? I want to make my evening more fun… maybe have something to look forward to this evening…

I waited a moment, sitting on my desk chair completely naked. It was frisky and I felt well… naked. Was it too bold? Should I just delete the message and get dressed? I did not have time to ponder longer that the little dot next to his name turned green. He had answered.

HandSurgeon: What do you suggest? I’m all ears.

Edelweiss: let’s say… I wanted to keep something inside me the entire evening… like an egg, you know those vibrating egg but like, not turned on because that’d be too much.

Edelweiss: here, this:

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

I made sure we could see my lower body, the hand holding the toy was right above my thighs and I angled it so he could see most of it. When I sent the picture, I felt the pressure in my stomach grow, maybe he’d refuse and I was getting excited over nothing.

HandSurgeon: I won’t be able to guide you, gorgeous.

HandSurgeon: But… I think it’s a great idea. Although, I need to be sure you’re not too sore to have some fun tonight.

Edelweiss: I’m good, I’m great. Don’t worry, I can definitely handle this. I mean, if you want to, sir.

HandSurgeon: The eagerness ever so present, you’re being very good asking for it. I would hate to punish you.

HandSurgeon: Let’s do it, if you think you can’t take it anymore send me a message and take it out.

HandSurgeon: But I’m sure a good girl like you could take it entire night, wouldn’t you agree?

My answer was to send him a picture of the toy inside me, my free hand gripping my thigh while spreading them wider.

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

HandSurgeon: Fuck. A warning next time. I’m not against more pictures, but let me remind you I’m not alone tonight.

HandSurgeon: Or is it what you’re looking for? You want to show off to me, but also to them? The odds of the people here looking at my phone are low, but they’re not null. That’s what gets you off.

I was going to reply but he sent another message that sent something coursing straight between my legs. The throb I managed to numb after this morning’s talk came back without much efforts needed.

HandSurgeon: Maybe to calm that eagerness, we should turn it on? Have you dripping wet for tonight? Would that help with how needy you’re feeling right now? You’d be surrounded by, let’s say your friends. But your thoughts would be nowhere near that, no.

HandSurgeon: You’ll be thinking of me. Of what I’d do to you tonight, looking forward to obey. To be on your knees, in your bed, expectant in front of your screen. Like a desperate girl, pleading for some relief.

My hand slipped on my desk and grabbed the little remote, pressing it to turn the toy on. I let out a shaky breath at the sensation, spread my legs wider to try to press it deeper but finding my attempt fruitless.

HandSurgeon: Get dressed, and go join your friends. I’ll be available to talk in a few.

HandSurgeon: But don’t get too greedy. If you think you’re getting close, you turn it off. I want you begging for an orgasm tonight. Are we good?

Edelweiss: Yes sir. More than good.

Edelweiss: Maybe… maybe I could call you, no video, to do it…

He’ll ask for me to be precise. But I felt like my pride would take a hit if I wrote it down, did I want to beg? I gave it a thought while getting dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. Usually I wouldn’t want to beg, but it felt different here. Maybe I could use this moment to find out more about him, his tastes… his kink.

HandSurgeon: “It”?

Edelweiss: Beg. You want me to beg, I am suggesting to do it on a call. That’s what you want right? You get off on being in a position of power but what else do you like?

HandSurgeon: I’ll have you begging, no matter what. That’s the fun, dear.

HandSurgeon: Now you’re curious about what I like? We’ll talk about it after tonight’s session, right now I have to go. Have fun, be good.

I thought it was going to be child’s play. The vibrations weren’t that strong, and it’s not like there was going to be a lot of things that’d turn me on during a friend gathering. Right? Right. It’s what I thought until I joined everyone in the living room and there stood a definition of handsome. I don’t know what Nami said about him but I’m sure she never mentioned how hot he was.

Nami, Luffy and Robin were sitting on the ground by the low table. They were taking the boxes of food from the bags and giving them to everyone. What caught my eyes was the man sitting in the couch, almost lazily. He was looking at the three people with something close to boredom, his arms spread on the back of the couch.

Suddenly I regret trying to make my evening more fun… Or did I? I’d have to see how the evening go to make an opinion on being in the company of such a beautiful man when I had my own hardship going.

[Part 3]

#trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #law one piece #physicalturian #writer #ao3 writing #ao3 writer #writing #fanfiction #wop #words of pleasure

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maibi · 4 years

Text

Dying

Dabi x reader

Warnings: kinda an open ending, sick!reader (pancreas problems), a little bit of cursing, sad topics T_T Might contain a certain spoiler about Dabi’s past.

Summary: based on the story ‘I want to eat your pancreas’ but with my own twists here and there. You were sick and Dabi was able to manage you just fine. He was not the caring type, but maybe he changed a little because of you. Teenager! Dabi and teenager! Reader. (Honestly I really recommend you read the light novel of I want to eat your pancreas, cuz holy shit that thing made me feel so many emotions at once)

“It’s your fault for finding my diary, I didn’t tell you to pick it up”, you said as you were happily walking behind Touya while he clearly told you to stop following him. “I mean who does that? Opening the diary of a stranger? You must have been pretty curious, hm.”

“I opened it because I had to find to owner, no more to the story. And why are you still following me? It’s been three weeks since that incident, get over it”, Touya said annoyed.

“Because, my dear Dabi”, you said as you quickened your steps so that you were in front of him, walking backwards with your face pointing his way. “You were the one that found my diary AND you’re the only one who doesn’t give a shit that I’m dying.”

“First of all, I told you not to call me Dabi anymore and second of all, why are you happy that I don’t care about your death? Aren’t you like, supposed to be sad about that?”

“Ah dear Dabi”, you said again, to work on his nerves, ”you do not understand the brain of a dying person.”

Ever since you found out he had a nickname for his online games, you decided to call him by that name whenever you tried to annoy him. He told you not to use it, but if he really hated it that much, he could have put effort onto stopping you. But he didn’t.

“I thought you had pancreas problems, not brain damage”, he said. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or not, but you being you, you didn’t really care about that stuff. You just spoke your mind.

“I mean, my brain does hurt ever since I met you, but my pancreas is really the one with issues”, you said.

Your first encounter with Touya was in school. Though both of you never really said anything to each other you did see each other quite often. Your real encounter, the one that made both of you talk to each other, was the one in the hospital. You had left your diary on a seat and Touya had picked it up. Because he wanted to know who it belonged to, he had read a part of your story. A story that was only meant for you to read and for other’s to see after your death. A kind of gift you wanted to leave behind for your loved ones.

Ever since then you just kind of stuck to him, not caring what others might think. You had a bubbly personality anyways, people would just assume it was you being nice again. You realized that he didn’t treat you any different ever since he got to know your truth that you had been hiding, the fact you were slowly dying because of your pancreas. And because of that realization you just knew he would be the perfect person to be around with. He didn’t really liked your company all the time and he wasn’t ashamed to tell you, but he never shut you out meaning he probably didn’t mind your presence that much.

“Funny. You know what would be more fun, if you actually left me alone”, he said as he grabbed you by the shoulders and lightly pushed you aside. He quickened his steps and tried to get rid of you. But you were a dedicated person and you would get what you wanted.

“Do you have plans for Saturday?”, you boldly asked.

“Besides reading, no”, he casually answered as you kept walking behind him. You had noticed that he had started walking faster, so you also spend up .

You took a small sprint so that you were walking in front of him again. You stopped walking and turned around. When you did that he stopped in track, looking confused at you. You raised both eyebrows and laughed. He hadn’t caught on and it was pretty funny to see that. “That means you’re free to hang with me, am I correct?”

You knew he couldn’t lie for his life, and that he couldn’t make up an excuse to not spend a day with you. His face scrunched when he realized he had fallen in your trap. You started laughing loudly. “I’ll meet you at the station at 1 p.m. Be on time, you wouldn’t want to make a girl wait now do you?”

He shook his head while closing his eyes. You could tell he wasn’t the happiest about it, because in the end you had stolen his free day. He was the type of person to not be that active. He didn’t like doing stuff, or going out. He liked to spend his days inside with a book or by playing games. Even while playing his games he wasn’t interested in teaming up with others so he always played solo. You laughed at him for it, but he called it independence.

He let out a sigh as he walked past you. “Don’t forget! You refused to give me your number so I won’t be able to remind you through text!”

He stopped walking and took his bag off of his shoulder. He opened his bag, but you weren’t able to see what he was doing. He zipped his bag closed and threw it over his shoulder. He walked in your direction as you tilted your head to the side, looking questionable. When he was in front of you he stuck a sticky note on your forehead. Without saying another word he turned around and left.

You took the sticky note and read what was on there. It was his number. You knew he wouldn’t forget about the so called date, but he still gave you his number meaning he probably enjoyed your presence. “Dabi Boy so cute!” You screamed to annoy him one last time.

“Don’t call me that!”, he screamed in monotone, not even looking back.

You laughed to yourself as you looked at his phone number. you started jumping around while screaming a little bit, making some people turn their faces in your direction. But you didn’t care, you were happy and the world could know this.

You excitedly saved his number on your phone and directly texted him.

“Sick girl texting, bet this is Dabi Boy!”

“I will end your bloodline if you call me Dabi Boy again.”

“So harsh Touya! That makes me sad.”

You didn’t get a response, but you weren’t really expecting one. He was the type of person to only text back when he really felt the need to, but in this situation it wasn’t really necessary.

You were excited when Saturday arrived. You had texted Touya in the morning telling him you’d wait for him. But you being the problematic teenager that you were, came late on purpose. You could feel it, he would call you out for being late because you had told him to not make you wait.

You happily hopped your way towards Touya, who was sitting on a bench with a book in his hand. You plopped next to him and grabbed his arm to get his attention. “So. What’s the planning?”, you asked.

“First of all, you are 20 minutes late and second of all you are the one that set the date so I was expecting you to make the planning”, he said while trying to pull hiss arm away.

“Aha! The answer I expected, but my dear Dabi, that’s not the way to my heart. Try again next time. As for now, I did make a planning so you’ll have to following me”, you happily said.

Of course this wasn’t a date to you guys. He knew this and so did you, that’s why he didn’t feel the need to answer on your remark. it’s not like he wasn’t your type or that he wasn’t interesting at all, it was just that you couldn’t really attach yourself to someone when death was so near to you. Though it was hard, to not feel anything at all.

You allowed yourselves to enjoy today. From walking in the park to eating at an all you can eat restaurant and filling yourselves until you couldn’t even walk anymore. You did everything to enjoy your day and looking at the fact that Touya wasn’t complaining you were sure he was having at least a little bit fun.

“Hmm, what about love interest? What is your type? Or what kind of girls do you fall for, if your interests are limited to girls”, you smugly said.

“Never thought about it”, he just casually said as the both of you walked on the beach with your shoes in your hands.

“Boring”, you sang. “Is there really no girl in class that you think is cute? Come on there has to be at least one person.

“I don’t really pay attention to people I don’t want to engage with. But if I really have to give you an answer, I do think you look cute”, he said without a pause in his sentence.

You felt your face heat up and even if he got at least a little bit embarrassed, he didn’t show it at all. You acted like it didn’t effect you and casually shook it off. “I mean of course you think I’m cute, I look amazing”, you said as you walked in front of him while cupping your face with your hands while you stared at him.

It wasn’t really the best idea to be walking backwards with your instability. Before you knew it you were stumbling over your own feet, but before you could hit the ground Touya had you in his arms to stop you from falling.

You blinked twice, and again, and again. He did exactly the same, shocked about his fast reflexes. He pulled you up, but removed his hands from around your waist the moment you were stable on your both feet. He started walking without another word and cleared his throat.

“Thank you”, you muttered.

There was a long silence while the both of you walked. The sun was setting and you just silently followed behind him. He didn’t slow down for you and you didn’t speed up for him. You followed the steps he left in the sand and noticed how much bigger his feet were. A small laugh escaped your mouth and he confusingly turned around.

“What are you laughing about”, he said. If a random person had told you that same sentence in that tone you would have taken it offensive, but because it was Touya talking you didn’t take it serious.

“Your big toe really is… big”, you said.

He looked at you with a concerned look on his face and that made you laugh even more.

“I mean, that’s why it’s called the big toe?”, he annoyingly said. “You really search for the smallest details to make fun of me don’t you?”

“Well it’s easy to annoy you and your reactions are always priceless. Plus you’re never really offended when I call you out for stuff, that makes it all the more enjoyable. To put it shortly, you’re just able to keep up with my bullshit.”

“God, why must I have been the chosen one. She is crazy”, he said while looking up.

You were quite shocked to see this reaction. He wasn’t the type to say things like this in a sarcastic way. He wasn’t even a person that used sarcasm. So when he said that he kinda just caught you off guard. “He has chosen the words of sarcasm”, you said as if it was a miracle. “You make me prouder with every passing day.”

He looked you dead in the eye, but failed to keep a straight face. You could tell he showed a lot of emotions to you today. You finally understood how his raising eyebrows and slightly widening eyes meant he was excited about something, or how his face tilted up a bit when he had won an argument with you. You were proud to say that you were the reason behind all those expressions and you were happy to have experienced them with him.

You knew deep down that you actually liked him, but telling him would cause a problem. Besides the fact that it could ruin the friendship you had, it could also ruin the fact that he did not care about your death. It was a treasure you held. He was the only one that wouldn’t get sad when your death was mentioned and he was the only one that didn’t judge you for living this way. You didn’t want to loose that. But yet in a way it felt like he didn’t care at all. It felt like your death would mean absolutely nothing to him

He didn’t say anything on that, because he felt the same. He never knew he needed this. He never knew that opening up would lead to him feelings things that not even his books could give him. He was just clueless to those feelings. Calling you cute, was nothing out of the ordinary for him, because for him it was just a fact that could be know, and a not a secret that should be held.

“Oh, let’s watch the sunset there”, you pointed at a place on a rock that was hidden away from the public. He looked at you once before looking at that place. you started walking that way when you received a not of approval from him. “I bet it’ll look amazing”, you excitedly said. “It’s not everyday I get to watch the sunset with you.”

He didn’t budge on your flirting attempt, but looking at his slight rosy cheeks told you you had succeeded in whatever it was that you were trying to get out of him.

The both of you sat on the rock with your face pointed to the view. It was beautiful and it was a good way to end the day. Reflecting on your day with him was something that made you smile. You were able to get the best out of him. The person that did not like taking pictures, allowed you to take selfies with him. The person that was so called emotionless had rosy cheeks when you failed at a flirting attempt. You had seen him smile and laugh. You seen the confusion on his face whenever he didn’t understand something and it was heartwarming in your opinion, because he felt comfortable enough to show you all these emotions.

But here was something you had noticed. Something you had been thinking about, but never brought up. He didn’t talk about you dying for even a little bit. Whenever you brought up the subject, he tried to shake it off. You were confused, but didn’t question it. You were keeping a lot to yourself too so he probably had his reasons.

You tried to lay down on your back as you looked at the dark blue sky, stars almost visible, but just not yet. “Have you ever had your first kiss?”, you asked.

“Nope”, he replied.

“Pathetic”, you said.

“Did you?”, he asked without looking at you.

“Well I wouldn’t call you pathetic if I hadn’t kissed before”, you shrugged,”so yeah I’ve had my first kiss.”

He didn’t respond to that. “Why do you never talk about me dying”, you said.

He saw him tense up, but he didn’t respond. perhaps he didn’t feel the need to answer this, but you didn’t like it. of course it was good that he wasn’t feeling bad about it, but the least he could do was worry.

“I mean, it’s okey to talk about it from time to time, I don’t really mind. I just hoped that you cared at least a little bit. I know I told you that I didn’t like it when people got sad when they saw me, but I feel comfortable around you so I want you to at least care about me and my condition”, you said, in a soft voice.

You had never spoken this silently or with this many sad emotions. You had felt him turn around, but you didn’t look up. He was squatted down in front of you and he tilted your head up with his fingers. His actions shocked you, but he didn’t seem budged by it.

“I do care about you and I do get sad when I think about your future. But because of that I don’t talk about you dying. Because I don’t want you to be reminded of that while you are with me. I want you to only remember good memories when you are with me. So I rather didn’t want to open that conversation. But if you really thought I didn’t car, you are wrong. I care too much”, he said.

He just looked at you with soft eyes and you didn’t know what to respond. Instead of responding, you did something you hadn’t expected. Something that even left you in shock.

You kissed him. And strangely, he kissed you back as if knowing that this was about to happen.

When the both of you pulled away, you had tears falling down your cheeks. “What if I told you I was actually afraid of dying? What would you say?”

His hands were still resting on your cheeks. “I will stay right here with you until the end. I have no intention of leaving.”

#dabi #dabi todoroki #touya #toua todoroki #todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi mha #dabi bnha #dabi imagine #dabi x y/n #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Impervious

Fandom: MCU / TFATWS Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader Content: Mentions of hate/harrasment, bad weather, sadness, awkwardness, fluff. A/N: This is my contribution to @princessmisery666 ‘s Daily Mix Challenge! She tossed me a song I’ve never heard before (Skin – by Sabrina Carpenter) and listening to the lyrics I had the image of a highschool prom dance scene where the main character is dancing with the partner while the jealous ass holes are staring daggers....but instead I ended up writing this – oops? Hope you enjoy! And thank you for a lovely challenge!

Impervious

I should delete my Twitter too. The day has only just begun but haters never seem to sleep, filling your online existence with a shit-ton of “negativity”.

It wasn’t as if you had planned it. It just happened!

Thinking back, you can’t help smiling at the memory of that morning a couple of years ago.

Way too early in November, cold and wet and absolutely not a day where you really wanted to be out in the horrendous morning rush and trying to weave in and out between people, with a cooling coffee in one hand, phone in the other, and an umbrella sandwiched dangerously by your shoulder and chin. Nope, the day was shitty and had just plummeted further as you hung up: you’d just had a contract cancelled. At least you wouldn’t be late.

Ready to give up your attempt at adulting (without the prospect of a new gig), you didn’t pay attention to your surroundings for a moment. Just a few seconds. But of course, that’s all it would take to ram straight into someone, crushing the paper cup between the two of you and jostling him to spill his own coffee.

On any other day, you’d probably have handled it more graciously. This day...not so much.

Scrambling for your phone (ugh, it had landed in the biggest puddle available and cracked), you rattled off frantic excuses while trying to hold back the tears. Then your umbrella got snagged by the wind and someone bumped into you, forcing you onto hands and knees and it was all...just...too much.

“Hey baby girl, don’t worry. Don’t cry,” his voice was warm and soothing just like his hands as they gripped yours, brushing off dirt gently with his sleeve, “don’t cry, ’s gonna be fine. See? No harm, no foul.”

There were scars on his hands – especially his knuckles had seen a lot of use, disrupting the gentleness of the dark skin with odd patterns – but they were steady and welcoming then as they cupped your elbows.

Still trying to push out excuses (at this point as much for your own reaction as the accident itself) between hiccups, you were not prepared for him.

His coat was practical and glistening from the rain that gathers on the treated material rather than soak into it...as opposed to your own old jacket that could double as a sponge.

“Just breathe,” he smiled from under the hood, “and stop apologizin’, ‘aight?” Well, you did shut up, too stunned by the crooked smile and the sunshine peeping out at you from his eyes. “That’s better. Lemme just grab this -” he bend for the remains of your phone -”and then...maybe I can offer ya somethin’ warm to drink?”

“Shouldn’t...shouldn’t I do that?” Your voice began to rise once more despite your best intentions. “I wasn’t watchi-”

“Nope.” You liked the way the P popped. “Gotta make sure ya fine...that’s kinda my thing, y’know.”

“O-okay...”

He had done just that: brought you to a warm café and hooked you up with their biggest mocha with chocolate powder on top (he even secured you a seat close to the heater) while still chatting about random things to calm you down.

But then his phone had rang and he’d have to leave.

You never got around to ask about his name...but later, when your brain decided to finally cooperate, you realized you didn’t have to: you had just been helped by Sam Wilson, former Falcon and the new Captain America.

That could have been the end of that.

It left you with dreams you neither wanted to share with anyone nor forget. Something inside you had woken up, wanting company but finding nothing but solitude – not that you technically were alone, of course.

You found yourself reading about Wilson’s heroic deeds both before and after the Avengers...and you kept noticing the little details that people seemed to ignore on the gossip pages or in the headlines. You fell for the man without the wings and shield.

A month later (and thankfully a few seasonal jobs too), you walked from the subway towards your little apartment after a long shoot. It was late and you were too tired to notice much about your surroundings until the winter boots of someone appeared in your lowered field of vision, making you jerk back to attention.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” Sam Wilson smiled disarmingly.

You were several blocks from home still. The streetlight flickered, stretching the shadows from a nearby dumpster, and towering above you were windows which all tried to block out the world for the sake of the residents living there.

“What are you doing here?” You bit your tongue in regret immediately. “I-I mean uhm...you didn’t...didn’t scare me...”

If he had been offended, Sam didn’t show it. Instead he just smiled that crooked smile, flashing what you were absolutely certain must be the prettiest tooth gap. “Let me walk ya home for starters?”

“...sure.”

It wasn’t winter anymore inside you when he was there. It was as good as you were ever going to get, knowing your dreams were unrealistic, so of course you decided to enjoy it for a little while. You walked side by side with him, basking in his warm presence until you were chatting as if he was an old friend.

“You still haven’t explained what you’re doing here, Sam.”

The two of you had come to a stop outside your complex. Fidgeting with your keys in the pocket, you wished that you could keep walking with him.

“Well...I was just gonna check in on you but now...this gonna sound crazy,” he pauses to scratch under the scarf, “...I was kinda hopin’ you’d let me finish that coffee with ya some day?”

He was still smiling although a bit more timidly and more towards the winter boots.

“I’d like that.” Inside you, a million sparklers were lit. “Tomorrow?”

“Hey baby girl, what ya smiling like a goof for?”

Sam’s voice calls you back to the real world – a real world where he’s coming over to you on the couch with a big mug of fresh coffee.

“You.” Closing the laptop, you push it away in favour of your boyfriend. “I was remembering how we bumped into each other.”

The memory makes him smile the way you love. “Best day in my life.”

“Same for me.” You kiss him. “I wouldn’t give us up for anything or anyone.” Not even jealous haters.

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caffeinatedbraincell · 4 years

Note

Oooh 9 and 38 for the two part Drabble game please! 💖 thank you! (Your choice between the two pairings~)

[9 - Settling in for a cozy night together/38 - “You just feel really good. Soft and warm…”]

Shatters!!!💖🥰✨ Thank you so much for this ask! I went with Joe/Nicky and I might’ve gotten bit carried away with the fluff, but here you go! Hope you like it <3

Read on AO3

Joe pulled the autumn-colored quilts tighter over his shoulders, snuggling into the downy mattress. His cheek was cradled by a feather-soft pillow, fragrant with the scent of eucalyptus and pine from the forest surrounding the hotel. With a contented sigh, he noted the sound of the shower shutting off in their bathroom. Nicky would be out soon.

The hotel had been Nicky’s idea, a new place he’d found online. From the moment they’d arrived, it had felt like home. Joe had been utterly taken with the charm of the little woodsy building, tucked away in a pocket of golden-red trees.

“Mashallah, Nicolò, what a beautiful place!”

Nicky had smiled as he sifted through his wallet. “The forest is lovely in this season. I thought you would like to spend some time here. It’s got a homey feel, no?”

Joe ran his hand over the glazed wooden countertop as Nicky finished checking in. He glanced around the vast foyer, reveling in the crackle of the blazing fireplace, the warmth radiating from the quaint brick walls.

“It feels so familiar. Like we’ve been here before.”

“It’s only been around for a decade, ya qalbi.”

“In a previous life, then. Or maybe a parallel universe.”

Nicky had chuckled, turning around to hand Joe a room key. “Go upstairs and shower. I’ll swing by the kitchens and bring us something for dinner. The reviews said they make an unforgettable focaccia.”

Nicky hadn’t come up yet when Joe stepped out of the shower. He decided to rest his eyes for a bit, to shrug off the lingering fatigue from driving - the freshly made bed just looked so comfy - and of course he promptly fell asleep. He’d awakened but a few minutes ago to the heavenly smell of garlic and rosemary, and the sound of Nicky humming in the shower.

The focaccia now sat on the table across the room. Joe blinked at it longingly, willing it to float over to him without him having to leave the blankets. He huffed when it inevitably did no such thing.

Behind him, Nicky laughed softly. Joe turned, breath catching in his throat at the sight of his husband standing in the slanting rays of evening sunlight, wearing only sweatpants and rubbing a towel over his hair.

Nicky leveled Joe with a crooked grin. “What, you think the food will just fly over to you if you stare hard enough?”

“No, but you might,” Joe replied, gazing at him with all the love he could muster. Nicky was walking towards him before he even finished the sentence.

Joe untucked his arms from the auburn quilts, reaching for his husband. Nicky buried one hand in Joe’s hair, curling the other around a bicep as he leaned down for a kiss. Suddenly, he paused.

“What?” Joe asked, watching Nicky’s expression soften to one of almost unbearable tenderness. “What is it?”

“Bello,” Nicky whispered after a beat. He brought his hand up to cup Joe’s face, swiping a thumb over his cheek. “Così bello. What could I possibly have done to deserve eternity with you?”

Joe’s breath hitched. When Nicky got like this, eyes sparkling with a hint of tears and endearments flowing from his lips like liquid love, it was all Joe could do to lay still, open and receptive to a millennium of devotion made immediate.

Nicky shifted to lay his body over Joe’s, carding a hand through Joe’s hair as he held his gaze. “Have I told you yet today how much I love you?”

“No, but the ‘spending eternity with me’ kind of gave it a-” Joe’s voice cracked traitorously as Nicky’s breath ghosted over his lips. He fell silent.

“It is well that I haven’t, because I don’t think it’s possible.” Nicky pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of Joe’s lips, pulling away as Joe leaned his head up for more. “To put what I feel for you in words is like trying to pour the ocean into a wine glass.”

He kissed Joe again, another barely-there brush of their lips. Joe couldn’t suppress a whimper. “Nicky, please…”

“Anything.”

Nicky kissed him properly, then, taking Joe’s face in his hands and capturing his lips with his own. A small noise of relief escaped Joe’s throat. Nicky kissed him with a depth of attention that would have driven a lesser man to madness, and even now, Joe thought, it was a near thing. After a moment, he trailed his lips down Joe’s jaw to his neck, tugging back the top of the quilts.

Joe laughed shakily. “What brought this on, amore?”

“Nothing in particular.” Nicky nosed at his neck, dipping to lay gentle kisses along his collarbone. “You just feel really good. Soft and warm…”

Soft and warm, Joe’s brain echoed lazily. Then his eyes widened in realization. “Oh shit. Nicky, it’s like 10 above freezing outside. You’re not even wearing a shirt.”

“I’m okay, my love,” Nicky chuckled. “The heater’s starting up, and I just got out of a hot shower.”

“No. Come under the covers.”

“Joe-”

“Per favore, Nicolò?” Joe held Nicky’s hand, intertwining their fingers together.

Nicky sighed around a smile. “A thousand years, and I still can’t deny you anything.” He pushed up off the bed, and Joe opened his mouth to protest. “A moment, ya amar, let me get the focaccia so we’re not flipping a coin to see who gets out of bed to get it later.”

He set the bread on their bedside table and slid under the covers with Joe. Joe hummed contentedly, curling into Nicky and laying his head over his heart. Nicky wrapped his arms around Joe, running his hands over the warm skin of his back.

“I was thinking,” Joe mumbled after a beat, tracing his fingers through the soft hairs on Nicky’s chest.

“Were you, now?” his husband teased. Joe snorted. “What were you thinking, love?”

Joe glanced at the falling leaves outside their window, startling reds and yellows against the gray light of dusk.

“About change. We are no longer the same men who fell in love outside Jerusalem, nor will we be who we are now a thousand years in the future. But this - what we have - endures, does it not? Love feels like too small a word to describe it. I- I wonder sometimes if I take you for granted.”

“Yusuf.” Joe felt Nicky’s hand on his jaw, gently tilting his face up. “Look at me.” Joe complied. “I will love you like this for as long as you want, until the end of time and beyond if you let me. Why worry about taking for granted this basic truth, inviolable as any law of nature?”

“What if I lose you? Amore mio, I can’t be without you. I can't.”

Nicky’s eyes welled with tears, and Joe instantly regretted his words. His beloved had brought them out to this beautiful retreat to relax and enjoy, and Joe was being like this. He jumped to take it back.

“No, Nicky, I’m sorry-”

“Shh, it’s alright. I understand. We spend so much of our lives fighting that it is hard to relax without going over all the what-ifs. But for now, Yusuf, trust me on this one. I will not leave you.”

“I know,” Joe said, nuzzling into Nicky’s chest. He felt Nicky’s arms tighten around him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Bringing us here. Saying that. Everything.”

Nicky smiled. “You never need to thank me for this. Now get up, let me feed you something before you fall asleep like an exhausted puppy.”

“Excuse you, an exhausted puppy couldn’t have driven us 120 miles to this hotel,” Joe grumbled, sitting up.

“Of course, love,” Nicky said easily. Joe rolled his eyes, reaching over Nicky’s lap to steal the focaccia. He realized with a start how hungry he was.

But when Nicky intercepted his arm and manhandled him into another melting kiss, Joe couldn’t bring himself to mind even a little bit.

#the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #tog fanfic #fluff #so much fluff #kavi writes #fanfiction #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #demonicneonfishy #(lmk if anyone wants to be tagged in fics!)

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sasarahsunshine · 3 years

Note

I have a strange tendency to create alternate universes in which my favorite character has a dissociative identity disorder. In this case Hotch so imagine that due to the abuse at the hands of his father Hotch and Aaron are two different personalities hotch just stopped taking control once their father died and Aaron had control most of the time or at least That was until David Rossi told Hotch that he would be very useful in the FBI. the one who joined the FBI was Hotch not Aaron. Aaron is the loving husband and lawyer while Hotch is the serious and stoic FBI agent. I just have one question, how do you think the team would find out?

Anon, my sweet Anon— your brain is so amazing. Like, oh my goodness.

So I personally have not done any research whatsoever into DID, all I know is what I’ve seen in various media’s online (tiktok mostly- which I know isn’t a good place to get information but some people on there like to share their own DID experiences), and the couple of episodes of Criminal Minds where they explored it (however I have read that Tobias wasn’t a good example of it).

In a fictional sense, I could see this being executed really well on the show (or in a fic). Especially if nobody knows about the two different personalities (or even if only Rossi knows).

Hotch is this stoic, no nonsense unit chief. He’s a badass who takes care of his team, his family, and his “unit” (I’m not sure if everyone with DID calls their multiple personalities a unit but I have seen two different people call themselves that so… idk). He comes out when things get too overwhelming for Aaron to handle. When emotions and tensions are high, Hotch fronts to take care of things.

I can think of some perfect examples of this too! Like when Emily and Reid were trapped inside the church of that cult? And the governor showed up to try and regain control of the situation- Hotch just got in his face and told him off. “Those are my people,” type of attitude. The whole “sit down and shut up” scene in the Alaska episode too- ugh.

And then when the team needs a calm mind, a soft hand, a small smile to show that they’re doing the right thing- that they did okay- Aaron is there. He’s a father first, a friend second. He cares too much and his heart is too fragile.

I’d like to think there might be another personality in there, but with no name. The broken man who seeps through the cracks every once in a while, gripping that glass of whiskey as he sits alone in his apartment, staring at a photo on his desk of Haley. Someone who is there to deal with the emotions Aaron can’t handle. Someone to cry and scream and punch the wall so Aaron doesn’t have to feel the burden of Hotch’s failure as a husband and father.

Okay that got sad, whoops.

Gonna talk about the team finding out under the cut!

Also, I legit think is anyone found out it would be Reid first. Not because I’m a Hotchreid whore, I swear. I legit think that he would know what to look for after the Tobias incident, and it would kind of be an accident. He would be speaking with Hotch and notice the subtle shift in facial features, the faraway look in his eyes as Aaron fronts for a moment to check on his team. He’d take note of that, maybe store the info in the back of his mind. Then pay attention as it happens again. Eventually he’d find a safe place to speak with the man, alone, to ask about it as delicately as he can (once he has enough evidence on his side). Hotch would be reluctant to admit anything, but Aaron might feel a weird sort of relief that he has someone to share his secret with.

Over the years he might eventually feel safe enough to tell some people. Garcia first, because he knows she’d love and accept him no matter what. She promises not to tell his secret as she hugs him, burying her face into his shoulder and telling him how ungodly happy she is that he trusts her with something so big. (I can see her getting or making him some sort of gift, kinda like the reversible octopus toys? One side is for Hotch and the other is for Aaron. Aaron thinks it’s cute, Hotch feels weird about having a toy on his desk lol).

When he tells Emily she just smiles and places her hand on his. She doesn’t really say anything, but she kind of insinuates that she knew. Which, she might have. She’s been a spy, for crying out loud. That woman has seen shit, lol, and she’s observant. Unlike Reid, she just left Hotch alone about it. But she feels endlessly grateful that he feels safe enough to tell her (even if it’s 6-7 years after they met). Emily is the only one who can help him front who he needs (Hotch or Aaron) when in situations where it’s almost impossible (panic attacks for example). She learned trigger words on her own.

Hotch doesn’t tell Morgan, not with words. They’re at a bar after closing a case but before going home. It’s just the two of them, sitting at the high top and sipping from their beers, watching whatever sport is on the TV (not paying attention). Hotch let’s himself slip and Aaron fronts. Morgan watches the shift, the way his facial features relax a little, his eyes dazed for a moment before brightening up again. Aaron glances at him after that, and Morgan understands. He doesn’t say anything, just tips his beer and clinks it with Aaron’s. They don’t talk about it.

I honestly have no clue how JJ would find out, but I can imagine Garcia or Emily tells her. She’s kinda weirded out at first because she doesn’t understand (and her only experience with someone with DID almost killed her best friend). She’s wary around Hotch for a week or so, but eventually goes back to the way things were when she can see that he’s still the same person he’s always been.

And then Rossi just watches the team in the bullpen, laughing and goofing off, as he sips his coffee from his own office, and he smiles. Because Aaron is with them, leaning against Emily’s desk and pretending to be annoyed that they’re not doing their work. And Rossi is glad that Aaron has a family he can be himself around. That he can be both Hotch AND Aaron around.

#sarah replies #ask #anon #DID #Dissaociative identify disorder #multiple personalities #Aaron hotchner headcanon #Aaron hotchner #Hotch #Hotch vs Aaron #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #this was cool to think about #thank you anon

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prouvaireafterdark · 4 years

Text

Appetite

Here’s my Malex Secret Santa gift for @djchika, who asked for some domestic Malex with one of them teaching the other how to cook! I hope you like it, Deej!

Also on AO3!

***

“Hey, Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex asks without looking up. He’d moved his laptop to the kitchen table at Michael’s request, but he still has a little work to finish before he’s free for the evening.

“Can you grab me the cumin from the spice cabinet?” Michael asks, and when Alex tears his gaze away from the screen, he sees Michael staring back, head turned over his shoulder to look at him as he stirs a pot of something on the stove that smells absolutely delicious.

“Sure, one sec,” he says, typing the last few lines of code as quick as he can.

When he’s done, he shuts his laptop and sets it to the side before straightening up and heading to the spice cabinet. He digs around a little, shifting bottles here and there to try to find what Michael needs, but he comes up empty.

“Bottom left, behind the paprika,” Michael supplies helpfully after a minute of Alex’s fruitless shuffling.

Alex looks over and sure enough, there, behind the paprika, right where Michael said it would be, is the cumin. He isn’t sure when exactly it was that Michael made the transition from feeling like he wasn’t welcome to stay the night to being intimately familiar with the inside of his spice cabinet, but the fact that he feels so at home in Alex’s space makes affection bloom warm in Alex’s chest as he plucks the bottle off the shelf.

“Thanks,” Michael smiles when he hands him the bottle, and Alex is helpless against the impulse to lean in and kiss him.

Michael welcomes the kiss without hesitation, humming softly against his mouth as he turns to face him more directly, the bottle of cumin still gripped between his fingers. Alex smiles, a little smug that he’s able to steal Michael’s attention so easily even when he’s in the middle of something.

It’s not until he feels the tip of Michael’s tongue flick against his bottom lip that Alex pulls back, not so eager to be the reason Michael burns whatever he’s cooking when they inevitably drive each other to distraction.

“Any time,” Alex says when he’s managed to put a few inches of space between them.

Michael blinks at him, his brain taking a moment to come back online, before he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“Tease,” Michael accuses lightly, and Alex rolls his eyes affectionately even as he steps behind him and wraps his arms around his waist.

“I don’t think I’ve earned that title,” Alex tells him in a low voice, lips barely an inch from the shell of Michael’s ear. “Not yet, anyway.”

Michael groans softly at the thought and Alex can’t help but chuckle and press a fleeting kiss to his cheek.

“Are you done with work?” Michael asks, leaning back against his chest a little in a way that makes Alex feel warm and protective. He knows it’s impractical, but he could hold Michael like this all day.

“Mhmm,” Alex hums. When Michael doesn’t say anything else, Alex hooks his chin over his shoulder and watches as he adds some cumin to the ground beef browning in the pot, not bothering to measure it. “What are you making?”

“Chili,” Michael answers, stirring the meat to incorporate all the spices. “You want to try some?”

Alex’s stomach growls audibly at the question, making them both laugh.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Michael says, and after a moment of more stirring to make sure the beef is all browned, Michael reaches into the cutlery drawer to his left and takes out a clean spoon without looking. He dips it into the pot, scoops out some seasoned ground beef, and feeds it to Alex over his shoulder.

Alex can’t suppress the pleased sound he makes when he tastes it. The beef is delicious—savory and a little salty with a strong kick of spice that lingers on his tongue.

“What do you think?” Michael asks, twisting in his arms to try to see his reaction.

“It’s really good,” Alex tells him, and he doesn’t need to see Michael’s face to know he’s warming under his praise, but it’s always nice to watch it happen anyway. If Michael isn’t careful, Alex will need to kiss him again.

“How’s the spice?” Michael asks. “I could add some more jalapeños before I add the rest of the ingredients if you want.”

“No, the spice is perfect,” Alex insists.

Michael beams at him before he turns back to the pot. With one parting peck to the back of Michael’s head, Alex steps away and gives him some space to work, leaning casually against the side of the fridge while he watches Michael push the spices toward the back of the counter and start assembling the remaining ingredients.

“How’d you get so good at this anyway?” Alex wonders as Michael squeezes in some tomato paste, once again without needing to measure it.

“What?” Michael asks, eyes on the pot while he mixes it in.

“Cooking,” Alex explains. “You’re so confident you’re not even following a recipe.”

“Yeah, I am,” Michael says, and Alex hasn’t seen a piece of paper or anything lying around with instructions on it, so Michael must have just memorized it, which is… not surprising for Michael as much as it is crazy for Alex to imagine doing himself. “I’m just… being creative in my interpretation of it.”

“So…” Alex starts, cocking his head, “you looked at the ingredients and now you’re winging it?”

“A bit, yeah,” Michael admits.

“Damn,” Alex says with the gravity that deserves.

“It’s really not that impressive,” Michael insists.

“Improvising a dish you read the ingredients for one time isn’t impressive?” Alex asks incredulously.

Michael is silent a moment while he thinks about it.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just used to it,” Michael says at last. “I didn’t exactly have a recipe book growing up, so I’d just do the best I could with what I could get my hands on, which didn’t always turn out so good.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, curious to hear more.

“Mhmm. Learned the hard way not to use ketchup as a replacement for tomato sauce.”

“Oh my god,” Alex says, pulling a face at the thought of pouring a squirt of Heinz over some pasta.

“Yeah,” Michael laughs. “Not my finest moment.”

“Did you cook a lot when you were younger?” Alex asks, surprised he’s never heard about any of this before. In high school and that summer that followed it, he and Michael would usually meet up either in the afternoon when Alex had to be home by dinner, or far later when Alex could sneak out in the middle of the night, so food wasn’t really something they’d shared or talked about a lot.

“Depends where I was,” Michael answers. “The addicts never had any food to cook and the Fundamentalists were big on ‘family dinners,’ but cooking was ‘women’s work’ so I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. When I was on my own though, I bought what was on sale or, well—” Michael cuts himself off, shifting his eyes in Alex’s direction before he sighs and says, “Let’s just say I had to get creative with my ingredients for a while in more ways than one.”

“You don’t have to talk in euphemisms, Michael,” Alex tells him kindly, reaching out for his hand. “I know you did what you had to do to survive. I’m glad you did,” he says, and he means it. He might have been judgmental about Michael’s criminal history at first, but they’re a long way from that disastrous evening at the Drive-In.

Michael tangles their fingers together and squeezes once, his smile a little brittle.

“Anyway, yeah,” Michael continues, “once I got access to a fire pit I was actually able to teach myself how to cook.”

“Wait, seriously?” Alex asks, eyebrows lifting in sudden surprise. “The fire pit?”

Now it’s Michael’s turn to look confused.

“Alex, I’ve made you dinner on the fire pit like a hundred times,” Michael says.

“No, I know, it’s just—“ Alex pauses, searching for the words. “I guess I never thought that that was how you learned how to cook.”

“Well, Sanders let me use his kitchen sometimes too,” Michael says.

“Right,” Alex nods. Michael’s mentioned before that Sanders is the reason why his omelets are nearly as good as Arturo’s. “So after cooking like that for so long, winging it is easy?”

“I guess, yeah,” Michael shrugs. “And, really, at the end of the day, cooking’s just chemistry—except things don’t generally explode as much when you mess up.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” Alex disagrees. “You should’ve seen me try to make brownies when I was a kid.”

“That bad?” Michael cringes.

“Oh yeah,” Alex answers. He’ll never forget that icy chill that ran down his spine when he’d seen what he’d done to the inside of the oven. If it wasn’t for Greg’s help cleaning everything up before their father got home, Alex probably would have been torn to pieces.

“Well, if you were making brownies, that’s baking. Cooking’s much more forgiving than baking,” Michael says. He gives Alex an assessing look before he says, “Come here, I’ll show you.”

Alex hesitantly closes the short distance between them, helped along by Michael tugging him by the hem of his shirt.

Michael must catch the reticence on his face because a second later he says, “Oh come on, you got this. I’ll talk you through it.”

“If you say so,” Alex sighs. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well, you can start by opening the cans of crushed tomatoes and kidney beans,” Michael says.

Alex laughs. “Okay, I think I can manage that.”

In the time it takes Michael to run to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer and an opened container of beef broth leftover from the stroganoff he’d made the other day, Alex is already done.

“Do I add all of it?” Alex asks, holding the can of beans over the pot.

“Not those yet,” Michael says. “They need to be drained and rinsed. Do you know where the colander is?”

That Alex does know—he may be culinarily challenged, but he’s got his shit together enough to know how to boil water and follow the directions on a box of Kraft like every other red-blooded American.

He fishes it out from the cabinet under the counter in front of him and takes it to the sink along with the can of beans.

“So I just toss them in the colander and rinse them?” Alex double-checks.

“Yup!” Michael answers, upending the bottle of beer over the pot for a few counts before taking a long drink. “Bring ‘em over when you’re done.”

Alex rinses the beans thoroughly and shakes them over the sink to get rid of the excess water before carrying the colander back over to where Michael is standing by the stove. There’s a cutting board set up with a knife and two green bell peppers when he gets there. The can of crushed tomatoes he opened is already empty, so Michael must have tossed that in too while he was waiting.

“Do you want to dice the peppers?” Michael asks.

“Um,” Alex says, looking at them suspiciously. “Sure?”

“Here, I’ll do one and you can do the other,” Michael says, stepping in front of Alex to get at the cutting board. “Just watch what I do.”

Alex stands at his side and watches intently.

“You’ll want to start by cutting the stems and the bottoms off,” Michael tells him as he slices them off one of the peppers. “Then you should slice it down the middle and remove the seeds and this white stuff inside.” Michael runs his knife along the inner flesh of the pepper, cutting away the white until there’s nothing but green. “And now we can dice it.”

Michael cuts the pepper into strips and then pushes them together horizontally so he can dice them with another swift pass of his knife, leaving the pepper in uniform squares.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Michael says, moving aside so Alex can take his place.

Alex picks up the knife and follows Michael’s instructions. He thinks he’ll be able to manage it okay, as long as he doesn’t let Michael’s gentle encouragement in his ear distract him too much—He knows his way around a knife after all, albeit in very different circumstances.

He’s doing fine until he gets to the actual dicing part. His fingers can’t seem to keep a steady enough grip on the pepper strips to make the kind of uniform cuts that Michael had been able to execute.

“Hang on,” Michael murmurs, and a moment later Alex feels him warm and solid against his back.

Alex swallows as Michael’s palms travel down the length of his forearms, not stopping until he covers Alex’s hands with his own. He feels caged in like this, pressed up against the counter a little, Michael’s breath fanning over the back of his neck, and suddenly Alex’s thoughts are very far away from the chili he’s supposed to be helping Michael make.

“You want to let the knife do the work here,” Michael tells him, grabbing Alex’s attention once again. “It’s sharp, it’ll slice through it much easier if you don’t add so much pressure.” He guides Alex’s hand as he slices through a row of peppers, the motion much smoother now. “See? Much easier that way. Now try it on your own.”

Michael drops his hands to rest on Alex’s hips as he watches over his shoulder. Alex tries not to be distracted by the way his fingers are edging up under the hem of his shirt, the way Michael’s low hum of approval when he passes the knife over the peppers again makes his heart beat faster.

He thinks he has it handled until Michael drawls in his ear, “Perfect. Just like that, Alex. Nice, even strokes,” and Alex nearly chops his own finger off.

“Michael,” he says sharply, head spinning a little.

“Hm?” the bastard hums lazily, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Are you fucking with me?” Alex asks, and he can feel Michael’s chest rumble with laughter against his back.

“Not yet,” Michael says, nuzzling into the side of his head a little to press a kiss over his pounding pulse, and Alex has to let go of the knife before he really does hurt himself.

He can feel Michael smile against his neck when he takes a deep, calming breath, bracing his hands on the counter.

“Go wash your hands,” Alex tells him, needing a minute to clear his head, “and then tell me how to finish this.”

“Yes, sir,” Michael says, and then the hands on his hips and the warmth at his back are gone.

Once he hears the sink running, Alex makes short work of the peppers and adds them to the pot.

Michael comes back a short moment later and stirs the diced peppers into the pot with one hand as he fiddles with the burner knob with the other. Alex leaves him to it while he washes his own hands.

“Perfect,” Michael comments when he’s satisfied. “Now it just needs to simmer for an hour.”

Alex doesn’t waste any time stepping back into Michael’s space, not even bothering to dry his hands on the dish towel Michael left by the sink. If Michael is upset about the water soaking into the thin fabric of his t-shirt where Alex grips his waist, he doesn’t say so. Instead, his hands slide up Alex’s shoulders, one of them finding a home in the short hair at the back of his neck.

“A whole hour, huh?” Alex asks, eyes drifting down toward Michael’s mouth.

“Mhmm,” Michael hums slowly, a coy smile spreading over his lips.

“That’s a lot of time,” Alex muses. “What do you think we should do with it?”

Michael’s grip on Alex’s hair tightens just a little. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Michael manages to set the timer on the stove before Alex drags him back to his bedroom.

It’s a good thing, too. By the time the alarm goes off, they’ve worked up quite the appetite.

#malexsanta2020 #malexsanta #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic

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bakugous-bbygirl · 4 years

Text

~Social media boyfriend~

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

There needs to be more quarantine stories. Like come onnn we’re all stuck together anyway. That’s why I’m doing the public justice of giving us more fan fiction that’s current to the times. Please enjoy!

Warning: swearing. That’s it really.

Being stuck at home was really getting to everyone and it was pretty clear. From almost finishing your second year to having to do your third year at home. You didn’t even want to know how your hero course was gonna go. But now everyone is online all the time posting things they never would have if they got to go outside more.

You of course followed almost all your classmates on social media. Mostly twitter and Instagram, everything else was a little too much. You had your fair share of classmate followers so your posts were mostly pictures of everyone hanging out or weird selfies you took while half awake.

After reading one too many fanfics you opened Twitter to see a certain profile you liked scrolling through.

You have no clue why Bakugou had followed you one day but you figured it’s the poilte thing to follow back. After scrolling for an hour though you had pretty much summed up all of his account into a few words

Self centered music guy.

A lot of his tweets were just pictures of himself flexing in his mirror or screenshots of whatever his playlist consisted of with aggressive captions telling people to fuck off or listen to the song. Those pictures of his arms though. Ahh those hit differently.

You had a crush on the blonde since you started your first year however you didn’t think it shift into you calling him your online boyfriend and making constant tweets about him.

Nothing super obvious just the simple like “why can’t he love me back” or “when he learns I’m real it’s a wrap.” And on Instagram if it’s a cute photo of yourself your caption would consist of something like: “once my online boyfriend learns I’m desperate maybe we could cuddle” you know nothing weird or anything.

After scrolling through his twitter you found a old tweet that actually made you laugh. Like it was something actually funny. You figured kiri got ahold of his phone and posted it before Bakugou blew him up. It was a picture of Bakugou on his floor fixing his Grenade bracers with the tweet “he looks so cute all focused!”

You accidentally tapped the like button and didn’t even realize how weird that would’ve looked as you swiped out of the app. You went to your messages to text Mina since she always kept you busy durning these lonely days. “Hey crackhead you up yet? It’s almost 3 in the afternoon”

she replied pretty quick asking how you were and if you wanted her to FaceTime you. And who were you to turn down a chance to talk to your best friend?

After answering the call mina’s goofy pink face appeared on your screen while it looked like she was laying on her couch. “Hello!!” “Hey Mina.” You couldn’t help at smile how bubbly she is while talking to you. You figured her extroverted personality was put through the ringer being forced to stay at home. “Soooo how have you been? I see your keeping your social media pretty up to date with your creepy obsession with your online boyfriend?” You hold up your middle finger as you see her laugh “it’s not creepy. It’s the same as liking a famous person. You guys just don’t get to know who he is.” “Ooooo so he’s famous? That makes it totally normal.” You rubbed at your neck moving the phone from your face so she can’t see the Blush. “Well, kinda, not really, sorta..” you then noticed your phone vibrating that you got a new notification. “Oh hold up, I wanna check this.” “Oh no just ignore me as I try to find out who it is you love so much. I would really like to know someday” you waved her off with your hand going to your home screen, “you will one day. Hush up now.” You scrolled to the top of your screen to see your notifications and saw it was from twitter and it was someone wanted to message you, you played it off as Mina or one of your friends wanted to mess with you about a tweet you made early in the day or something. “What’s the point of messaging me when we’re on the phone?” You went back to the call to see Mina tilting her head like a bird “what do you mean? I didn’t message you?” “Oh, I figured it was you sending me something stupid on twitter. Lemme see who it is then.”

You opened twitter while half way listening to whatever story Mina felt like telling at that moment and noticed the message was actually Bakugou saying “what the fuck” “Oh it’s just Bakugou. Weird he normally doesn’t send me anything” you opened the message just as Mina said “maybe it’s him telling you what you tweeted was dumb or pointless? That’s normally what he does to me.” You laughed and saw he had sent a screenshot of a notification he got from you like a tweet from legit a year ago. You almost died. “Ahhhhhhh shit I gotta go minathanksforcallingbye!” And flat out hung up in her face. You couldn’t believe you were dumb enough to like the tweet. Why didn’t you notice? God you were stupid.

And what’s even worse you already opened the message and he could see you already read it so In a panick you just typed out some half ass reply acting as if you were confused “what? I didn’t do anything to you” you then texted Mina explaining how weird he probably thinks you are. “sooo Bakugou is mystery your online boyfriend and you got caught totally creepin?” You face turned red as you replied “I never said he was my crush!” “you posted on Instagram yesterday that sometimes you scroll through his account and read his old tweets. Get busted y/n.” You threw you phone away from you on the table and layed Your head into your pillows.

You were so caught. Almost all your tweets and posts from the last few months were you thirsting over this boy and showing how lonely you are durning this quarantine. You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if it was someone you were closer too, Like kirishima or denki. The fact Bakugou barely spoke with you durning your time in classes made it feel even weirder. How could you be so dumb to forget your one rule of being a simp. No liking old posts or tweets. Just saving the photo depending on what it is. That rule just got tossed out the window as you pushed your face tighter into the pillow. No way was he gotta think your cute or whatever after this.

The sound of your phone going off got your attention and you reached for it slightly hoping it was Mina with a way to get you out of this. However it was the dreaded online boyfriend messaging you again. “Don’t play dumber than you are dumbass. The fuck is with you liking my old tweets” You really didn’t have the best response so you came up with the best you could. “Mina had my phone. Sorry she was being weird.”

That was so dumb. You both knew good and well that no one was allowed to be around each other since this whole virus came out. Could this day get any worse? Yes. Yes it could shut up.

“Try again.” Was all he replied with but you could hear the smug in his voice. Like no way was he gonna not call you out for this. The only times he did speak to you was when he was being an ass and making fun of you. Or when he grabbed your hips and moved you out of his way. You always loved that because his hands trapped your figure so perfectly but decided it was better to keep that to yourself. You were fully ready to admit defeat. There were no more lies you could come up with on the spot. “alright look, I’m sorry if it’s weird. Honest mistake.” This was your last shot to keep your dignity after such a embarrassing day.

It actually took him a while to reply. You figured he was too busy to entertain your contuinus lies until you got a notification from Instagram saying Ground_Zer0 liked your post. You opened the app to see he liked the picture where your caption was you basically admitted you scrolled through his old tweets because he was your online boyfriend. Before your brain could kick you for posting that bold statement in the first place you got two more messages from him. He had screenshotted the picture and caption. “So gonna keep lying like I don’t follow your accounts” Yep. Mina was so right. You were busted. Nothing much was left to be said. You were caught simping on one of your classmates who was aiming to be the number one hero. Just great.

“You gonna reply or what dumbass” Here goes everything. No reason to keep your lies, nothing much to lose.

“Alright so yeah I’ve liked you for a while now, I don’t know what about you makes me like you so much but I always found you really cool. Your so passionate about wanting to do good it’s almost silly how mean you are to everyone. Your not all that ugly either so that helps or whatever.” You confidence found half way through texting him. Not like he could make fun of you to all your friends and school. He doesn’t seem like the guy. Right?

“Oh.” Oh. That’s all he has to say. What the shit. What type of reply is that! Here you are pouring your heart out and that’s all he says back! This was kinda worse than him laughing! You barely got a reaction at all! “So how long have you liked Me” you took a second to think of the least creepy answer, “I mean since the beginning of our second year, why?”

It wasn’t a whole lie. Like since you had liked him the beginning of last year too. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your emotions were clearly a wreck. From anger to slight confusion and embarrassment. What if he used this against you for real? Like you could never live down how much you really thought about him and wanted to be around him. It was pretty clear since you layed eyes on him you really cared about him.

“Well, I’ve liked you longer so I guess it’s my job to ask your dumbass out”

“Wanna be my girlfriend you weird stalker?”

You legit couldn’t believe it. You rubbed at your eyes for a good five minutes. Was he being serious? Was it a joke? You couldn’t think straight your head was so fuzzy “OI DONT LEAVE ME ON READ DUMBASS!” “If this is a way to make fun of me it isn’t very funny Bakugou.”

It seriously wasn’t funny. You knew for a while he felt nothing back for you, he never liked any of your posts or made much of an effort to even talk to you when you guys did attend school. He was clearly better friends with Mina since she even got messages from him, even if they were insults you would’ve taken what you could get. No way were you setting yourself up any more to get laughed at.

At that moment you got a FaceTime call from a number you didn’t have saved. You had no clue who it was. Against your better judgement you answered figuring that telemarketers don’t make FaceTime calls. What you got was a grumpy looking Bakugou staring at his screen. You could feel his eyes staring through you. You wanted to throw your phone so far it wasn’t even a joke. “Bout time dumbass.” He was layed out on his bed with a black wife beater hanging loosely on his body. You could tell he hasn’t moved from the bed in a while since the sheets and blankets were slightly messed up. “Now tell me. You see anyone else in my fucking room?” You shook your head in a confused manner, what was that question for? “Okay then. So it’s clear this isn’t a fucking joke. I like your dumb ass. Now will you please be my real girlfriend?” You stared at his face for any sort of sign it was still a joke.

But all you got was Bakugou blushing. Wait blushing? Seriously. That’s screenshot worthy. “I..well..w-wait we can’t even see each other?” You heard him grunt as a smirk appeared on his lips “if that’s your way of saying yes ain’t no stupid virus keeping me from kissing you like I’ve wanted to forever now.” “N-no way! You’ll get in trouble! Or sick!” Your face filled with heat as his words flowed so confidently. Like he knew all this time this is everything he’s ever wanted to say to you. “Did you not hear me? No virus is keeping me from you or getting me sick. Just let me say your mine stupid! I won’t fucking ask again.” “Y-yeah! O-okay I’ll be your girlfriend!” Another smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn straight. Alright get ready I’ll be there soon.” After that he hung up.

“Wait what?! Don’t come! Hello? Ah shit.” You still couldn’t really believe that all this really happened. You just got a boyfriend. After accidentally liking his post. From a year ago. Wow. What luck! You opened Instagram to congratulate yourself by posting the screenshot you had snagged but saw that a certain someone had posted a screenshot of you looking all confused durning a FaceTime call.

The ass screenshotted you looking confused after he asked you if anyone else was in his room. You looked at the caption and it absolutely made you turn red

“Thanks for giving me her number pinky.”

P1nky commented “anytime! Get you some!”

You hate your friends. You do love them. But you seriously can’t stand them.

Thank you all for reading so much! Also thank you for the 100 followers! I appciate it a lot and it gives me more reason to keep writing!

#my hero academia #mha #boko no hero academia #bnha bakugou #bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #coronavirus #covidquarantine #covidー19 #x reader #mina ashido

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