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elliethesuperfruitlover · 11 months ago

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Fu the Family Friend

A/N: happy new year everyone! I started this september/october (i forgor) and found the motivation to finish it up. my lord i cant wait for the archivist model to drop.....

I want to preface this by saying I'm writing this fictional piece of work based off of a fictional character/liver. This does not reflect any sort of reality, nor does this reflect what Fulgur is like irl, etc. etc.

(I'm writing Fuu-chan as Archivist and not Legatus purely for How I Imagine Him purposes. And yes i know this outfit is legatus but just imagine archivist being his large sexy self in a pink shirt and leather pants with his hair pulled back mmk.)

CW: beeg tall man, nerdy talk, oral sex (fem! receiving)

Tag List: @super-unpredictable98, @jozstankovich, @rubberbutt69

Ding Dong

"Welcome Mr. Ovid! It's so good to see you!" you heard from the couch, turning your attention to the front door. Your parents had informed you that there would be a guest coming in to stay in the Air BNB they own for a few weeks, but you had limited reaction to it. The most they'll be is a mild inconvenience for when I need a place to decompress.

"It's good to have a change of scenery. And plus, the more I can learn about different cities, the better I'll be at my job." he spoke smoothly, with a little chuckle at the end of his sentence.

My lord, what a voice he has. You whisper to yourself, standing up to get a closer look.

Peeking from behind the wall, you observe the new person. He's.....oh no he's handsome. He has a tall build, with a dangerously soft looking tummy and long silver hair that's pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. He has a kind looking face, with stubble matching his hair color. There seems to be a red and black collar around his neck (Oh yeah, they did mention he's a cyborg.) and hands to match.

"Oh, hey there. Didn't notice you at first." he looked up at you (holy fuck, he has pretty eyes too), and went to shake your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ovid." you stuttered, his hand warmer than you thought it would be.

"Oh, please call me Fulgur, Mr. Ovid makes me feel old." one of his hands went behind his head to awkwardly scratch his neck, and he looks away.

You nod in agreement and stand to the side as he continues talking to your parents. The way he spoke about his job ("It helps me stay in touch with what I lost, y'know. That way I can look back at everything in the future and not feel this pit of guilt from not knowing or remembering."), how he talked about his dog back home ("Oh, he's a very big boy. But very gentle. Trained and everything." as he shows them pictures of a very large, and very happy looking Caucasian shepherd.), honestly just listening to him talk was enough for you.

"Oh honey, would you show Mr. Ovid his room, we've gotta go handle dinner." your parents shout from the front door, closing it right as you respond.

"Uhh, you can follow me. Your room isn't up 10 flights of stairs or across an ominous bog. It's right to the left." you instruct, pointing in the general upstairs direction.

"So....the right or the left."

"Right to the......okay gotcha. It's to the left." you mutter before mentally facepalming as he walks into the room and sets his bags down. Now that's certainly a way to make a fuckin' impression. Being horrifically unclear. "I'll leave you to get settled, just let me know if you need anything."

You walk back to the couch, sitting in front of the television. Whatever was playing took your focus for all of half a second before drifting to....him. It's been a hot minute since someone actually caught your attention. Even if he is a little...older. It's just by a few years. And for all you know, he could be happily married....or not even-

CRASH

"Uh, you good in there?' you ask, standing in the doorframe to his room.

"Yeah, I was just trying to get the window open and some stuff fell." he chuckled awkwardly and backed away from the wall. Surrounding him were a few books from the shelf above the windowsill, and the window sat half open. Easy fix, you say to yourself before walking over and taking a firm hold on the handle for the latch.

"It's ok. I've accidentally been a little too rough with it before, you just gotta lift it up and pull at the same time. It's all about being gentle." the window slots into place and locks.

Fulgur giggles from behind you, shoulders lightly shaking at the accidental innuendo. Ah, so that's his sense of humor. "I'll have you know that joke was purely incidental. It just slips out sometimes."

"Oh does it?" he replies, breaking out into fuller laughter, wheezing in a kettle like fashion. That deeply entertains you, as how could a man built like that let out such a charming noise as a laugh.

"You like how I laugh?" he stutters out, finally catching his breath. Shit, I said that out loud.

"It's cute. Almost the opposite of what I expected from someone so built." you say, bulking your shoulders up to imitate his form.

"How am I built?" an unreadable glint shines in his eye.

"Like a beefcake. A big British beefcake."

He hums and gets the residual laughs out before putting the books back on the shelf. You sit on the ottoman in the corner of the room and listen to him talk while he gets his travel bags unpacked. He really is an interesting person. From his friends back home (apparently demons, dragons, and aliens do actually exist) to how he talks about his job. Apparently keeping the world's history and books preserved is a much more hard job than you imagined.

"It's difficult, but a very rewarding job. Makes me feel like I'm doing good to help things exist for longer. Let everyone after me observe things just as they were." a small smile appears on his face and you feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. Hmm...he's nice.

"We're back! And brought pizza!" your parents yell from the front door.

Both of your stomachs rumble at the sound of that, and you both head downstairs. The setup is simple. Three pizzas, cheese, pepperoni, and-

"Oh, Hawaiian! I actually enjoy pineapple on pizza." he mutters, gleefully getting a paper plate and starting on his meal.

Dinner flows smoothly up to a point, up until Fulgur takes his jacket off. He revealed his arms, and he put a fist on his chin, listening to your parents talk about their upcoming trip out of town. All you could focus on was his stubble. The line of his neck and his hands... You start wondering what they'd feel like. Holding them in your own. Wrapped around your waist. Maybe even groping you from behind. Lost in your own thoughts, you find that he's been looking at you.

Ah shit. You cough and shake your head of the images of him over you, standing up.

"Let me get your trash." you offer, looking down instead of at him. If you had, you would've noticed a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks, going to his neck and ears when you bend over to get another trash bag. After washing your hands and sitting back down, you two sit in silence for a few more moments, and he almost says something, but is cut off by your parents announcing their departure.

"See you later. You sure you're not coming with us back to the house? Your room and bed are there, y'know?" they humor you, waiting for you at the door.

"I'm good. Just gonna make sure our guest is totally settled in." you reply nonchalantly, almost surprising yourself. Fu-chan turns towards you, a confused look on his face, but you don't notice...again.

You finally settle in front of the TV, Fu-chan joining you on the couch. Silence surrounds the two of you, and a good chunk of time passes before it cuts to a commercial. You stretch from your spot, neglecting your nightly "turn on the porch light" duties, as your parents handled that when they left. Your mind drifts to Fu-chan again. And everything you'd want this archivist to do to you. Your thighs cross and you zone out, shaking your leg. You only come to when Fulgur taps your shoulder, asking you a question.

"You good there? You look like you're distracted. And your leg's shaking...and they're crossed. And you've got your hand between your thighs," he crosses his arms, a smirk settling on his face. He sighs before continuing. "are you thinkin' of me? Because between how you look now and the stretching and you wanting to stay with me to "make sure I get settled in". I can't help but let my mind wander to what you want to get up to."

"And what if I am? Am I not allowed to think about your hands? Or what you look like tied up? How your stubble feels on my neck?" you look directly in his eyes and something in them flickers.

"Oh? So you have been thinking about me." he moves to get on top of you, slotting a leg between your thighs. You shiver at the contact.

"Just kiss me." you internally cheer and scream that it actually worked, and that you're about to have a lot of explaining to do as to why you stayed for the night, as well as the morning at the guest house.

With that, he surges forward and catches your lips with his own. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, and you melt into the contact. He moans into the kiss and deepens it, letting you onto his lap. The hand that isn't on your neck is holding you still, fingers spread across your ribs. You break away from him and bite the spot where his neck and shoulder meet.

Fu-chan groans at that and does the same with your neck, hair tickling your skin. You grind against his thigh, the sensation of his cynets pressing against you seep into your brain. He sucks a bruise onto your neck and rubs his thumb over it, putting pressure on the spot. You suck in a breath of air, pushing him off you.

"Let's take this upstairs. I don't want my parents complaining about stains on the couch." and with that, you both get up, stumbling a little. The two of you practically run to his room, shedding clothes as soon as he closes the door.

You push him onto the bed and straddle him, dragging your hands along his toned chest and abs. God, his tits. You grope them, gasping at how soft they actually are, despite their appearance. You also pinch one of his nipples, delighting in the way he gasps at the feeling. You continue until he's red in the face, almost embarrassed at how close he was just from one half of his (enormous) chest being fondled.

"Mmm. Let me touch you. Don't wanna finish like this." he whines, gently flipping the two of you.

He takes a wide berth at your body from his position, hands squeezing and caressing along the way. What his fingers skip, his lips follow with kisses, trailing from between your breasts to right where you've been wanting him since he moaned over that damn pineapple pizza. With each descending kiss, your breath quickened, almost to a gasp. It didn't help that he was keeping direct eye contact with you, staring half lidded and full of lust. He gently flips the two of you,

He lightly nips at your thighs, rubbing his stubbly cheeks against the sensitive skin. His arms make their way around your thighs, fingers gently digging into the plush flesh.

"You're so beautiful like this. Gasping. Waiting for me to touch you. Makes me want to take my time just to see you fully come apart." he hums at the end, and settles in between your thighs. He takes a deep breath and groans afterwards, hips canting into the sheets.

Fulgur places a wet, open mouthed kiss to your clothed mound, followed by a much more pointed one, dead on your clit. Your hips involuntarily thrusted up, and his face remained in the same spot, letting you grind against him. He untangled his right arm from your thigh, and began making an outline of your lips with his fingers, teasing around where you wanted them. He gently pushed a knuckle in through your panties and you groaned, desperate for him to take them off. He continued for a few more moments before acquiescing, taking tender care not to yank them off your feet.

"Hmmm, what do we have here?" he whispers, breath tickling your mound. Fulgur gently spread you open with his fingers, smiling in an almost pervish manner when you clenched at nothing. He stuck his tongue out, giving your cunt a wide lick, ending at your clit. He repeated the action before sucking on it, tongue caressing the underside. Your head flops to the side, overcome with the feeling of finally, finally, someone getting it right.

Fulgur seemed to get more enthusiastic about your pleasure, his hips and damn that ass thrusting against the sheets. He was drunk off the feeling of you surrounding him. His eyes were closed and his glasses were foggy and askew. He moaned into you when you thrusted upwards, and when his mouth wasn't busy pleasuring you, it was spitting out praises that left you speechless. "You taste so fucking good." " I bet it feels good, huh." "Let me know how I'm making you feel." "I can't wait til I'm buried in you." Each one more encouraging than the last.

You were almost delirious by the time you noticed he added a second finger, tongue paying special attention to your clit. His fingers were slow at first, scissoring you open, but crooked and sped up to match your hips. You could barely think straight, barely registering the sounds coming from your own mouth. There was a moment where he hit a spot behind your pelvis, while simultaneously sucking on your clit and you yanked his hair, back arched.

"Right there, Fu-chan! Please!" you begged, eyes half open. He doubled down on his efforts, finding the right rhythm between your hips grinding against him and his fingers. You began letting out tiny "ah, ah, ah" noises, and you felt almost ill at the onset of this feeling.

"Don't worry baby, I got you. Just let go." he whispered, before closing his lips around your clit completely, his silver hair spread across your belly. Your body seizes up and you feel an overwhelming burst of pleasure curl in your stomach before it crests, leaving you limp. Fu-chan continues, albeit a bit slower, both his hands and his hips coming to a complete stop once you'd caught your breath.

"You alright there?" you ask, gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Peachy." he says, moving his head so you can see his flushed face. His glasses remained off balance and his hair stuck to his forehead. The parts of his neck you can see are pink and dotted with the bite you gave him earlier.

After a few minutes of relaxing, he slowly gets up, legs shaky, and grabs the washcloth from the guest bathroom. He cleans your thighs, then your stomach, and you nod off for a moment when he walks back. You both get under the covers, the slight chill from the open window making goosebumps on your skin.

"One more question." he whispers, hands wrapped around your middle, thumb rubbing shapes into your skin.

"Yeah?"

"How do you like your eggs?"

Oh, he better stay here for the next 6 months.

Masterlist

#fulgur ovid x reader #fulgur ovid smut #pls be nice

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meowmeow-motherfucker · 8 months ago

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The Fox & the Squirrel- Chapter 16

Fic summary: Chasing yet another demon in a long line of hunts, the Winchesters get help from an unlikely source. But their new recruit isn’t exactly who she says she is. Savannah is used to looking over her shoulder. Life in hiding doesn’t leave much room for enjoyment, but traveling with the Winchesters just may give her a new lease on life.

Fic pairing: Dean Winchester/OFC Savannah Hart

Trigger warnings: elements of horror and witchcraft, references to past torture/trauma, Crowley is a dick, lies and deception, mutual pining, flirting, sex, typical Winchester shenanigans.

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242644/chapters/37972217

“You guys are gross.” Sam complained, startling Savannah awake.

“Huh?” she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the blurriness from her eyes as she looked over at Sam. She paused when she jerked to a stop, unable to move further. “Why can’t I move?” she asked dumbly.

“I’d say it’s the two hundred pound hunter lying next to you.” Sam quipped.

“Oh god,” Savannah blanched when she looked down and saw Dean practically wrapped around her. “What am I supposed to do?” she laughed.

“I’m leaving it entirely up to you to figure a way out of there,” Sam snickered as he shrugged on his jacket. “I’m going to get some coffee; you want anything?”

“Jelly donut and strawberry milk?”

“Sure,” Sam nodded. “Hey listen, if this…put a sock on the door if you don’t want me to come in, okay?” Savannah was sure she turned scarlet.

“Oh my god Sam!” she whisper-shouted.

“I’m just saying.” The younger Winchester held up his hands in defense.

“Sam!”

“Alright, alright. Tell Dean I’ll get him something greasy and disgusting.” Sam ducked out, cackling as he went. Savannah did her best to turn over to face Dean, regretting it as soon as she did. Anyone with eyes could see how handsome the man was and being this close was dangerous. Savannah was strong but this...this made it all the more difficult not to charm him.

“Dean.” The man in question grunted sleepily, shifting slightly when she said his name again. Savannah frowned, unsure how to wake him. She didn’t want to startle or strike him; she was trying to be gentle. She could always- no, it wouldn’t be right to kiss him without permission. Then again, she’d be lying if she claimed she wasn’t curious.

Stop lying to yourself, Savannah, you’re dying to know what it’d be like to kiss him.

She wasn’t actually about to do this, was she? This was wrong. This was stupid. And yet…

One small kiss couldn’t hurt. Right?

Savannah inched forward and pressed her lips to his gently, hoping the action would wake him (but also hoping it wouldn’t; the entire situation was so embarrassing). Dean responded immediately, fisting her shirt in his hands and returning the kiss with fervor.

Okay, maybe this was more dangerous than stupid . She could get used to being kissed like this. There was a hunger in his kisses, a hunger that ignited the eons-dormant fire in her belly and made her long for more. Savannah pulled away abruptly, startled by that train of thought. Dean made a noise of discontent, making Savannah pull back abruptly, running her hands over her face as she sagged into her pillow.

“Oh god why did I do that?” she asked herself quietly. “Stupid, stupid, stupid-”

“What the hell?” Dean murmured as he came awake. He perked his head up, rubbing his eyes blearily as he looked around the room. “Did you kiss me?”

“Um…”

“You totally did!” Dean crowed, booping her nose with his finger. “Were you beating yourself up about it?”

“Yes.” Dean waved a hand in her direction.

“Don’t. Wake me up next time,” Dean grunted, scratching at him stubble as he yawned. “Where’s Sam?” he mumbled.

“Uh...breakfast run,” Savannah supplied quickly.

“Awesome,” Dean turned on his side toward her. “You know...there are other things we could do besides makeout.” Savannah gulped nervously.

“Like what?” she squeaked.

“Well that depends...how long ago did Sam take off?”

“Five minutes?” Savannah offered meekly.

“Mhm,” Dean groaned thankfully, his eyes slipping closed as he stretched out beside her. “Well...we’ve got plenty of time. Plenty of options…” he offered leadingly, letting his eyes drift along her blanket-clad form. “Whad’ya say, gorgeous? Could make you see stars if you let me.”

“I-what?” Savannah couldn’t stifle the giggle that erupted out of her. “Please tell me that line doesn’t actually work.”

“Almost worked on you.” Dean flashed a cheesy grin, and she laughed harder despite herself.

“Um...thank you, Dean, but I think that’s a little beyond my level of expertise.”

“Oh, no sweat,” Dean replied, folding his hands behind his head on the pillow. “I’m just offerin’. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.” The ball of nerves in Savannah’s stomach unfurled.

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why’d you kiss me anyway?” Dean asked, and Savannah froze. What was she supposed to say? ‘You were crowding me and I panicked’? ‘I just wanted to’? “Were you curious?”

“I...yes,” Savannah admitted. “Have been for a while, to be honest.” Dean’s face widened into a pleased smile, and Savannah let out of a rush of nervous breath.

“Well, gorgeous, here I am,” he tilted his head back, eyes slipping closed as he exhaled. “I’m all yours if you wanna kiss me some more now that I’m awake.”

“How…” Savannah paused, not knowing if she could handle the embarrassment of admitting this out loud. “I mean...I don’t really know how.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his eyes darting to her face in surprise. “You can’t tell me you made it this far in life never kissing somebody at least once! I don’t believe that for a second,” he chuckled. “You never snuck out your window to see some guy? Made out under the bleachers after a football game?”

“I’ve been kissed, it just...I didn’t really enjoy it.”

“What was it like?” Dean asked. “Describe it to me.”

“Um…” Savannah fidgeted anxiously, wiping her fingers together as she unpacked the memory in her mind. “Fast. Wet.”

“Wet?” Dean pressed, eyebrows high as he regarded her with concern.

“Sloppy,” Savannah amended. “And rough. It hurt my lips.”

“Oh, okay, I see what you mean. The guy was inexperienced.”

“He was...in a hurry, I guess.”

“I’m sorry your first was so disappointing,” Dean said sympathetically. “I’d like to at least try to make up for it.”

“How?”

“I’ll kiss you, silly. Properly this time.” Dean’s green eyes flicked to hers hopefully before darting down to her lips.

“I guess I don’t know what I’m missing.” Savannah chuckled.

“I could show you...if you’ll let me.”

“I think you’re the only person I’d let kiss me.” she admitted softly.

“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes glittered. “What makes me so special?”

“You make me laugh,” Savannah said immediately. “And you treat me like a person, instead of a trophy.” Dean’s eyes darkened slightly and he frowned.

“You deserved better than the assholes who hurt you,” he said kindly, drawing closer to her. “Can I kiss you?” Savannah couldn’t deny her curiosity any longer.

“What do I need to do?” she asked. Dean sat up, turning on the bed to face her and waiting patiently for her to mirror his actions.

“I’ll walk you through it, don’t worry,” Nimble fingers brushed her (presumably) wild hair from her face, hooking the golden strands over her ear. Those fingers danced along her skin, tracing her jawline to her chin and then to her lips. His thumb brushed along the curve of her bottom lip, making the skin prickle as her breaths grew shallow. His fingers moved to the sensitive spot behind her ear, his other hand repeating the hair-brushing movement as he stared at her longingly. A shiver ran down Savannah’s spine as Dean drew closer, licking his lips. “See, the trick is...anticipation,” he murmured, grinning when she fidgeted impatiently, their lips centimeters apart. He leaned closer, so that their noses were brushing, each of them zeroed in on the other with hooded eyes. “Making the other person so desperate they feel like they’re about to burst into flame. Do you feel it?”

“Mhm.” Dean smiled at her whimpered confession.

“Close your eyes, beautiful,” he whispered against her plump lips, waiting until she obeyed to seal their mouths together in a rush of heat. The press of their mouths was slow, and sensual, and sent shivers racing down Dean’s spine. He felt Savannah’s hands move, hovering over his shoulders as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. He broke the kiss to urge her to touch him. “You’re overthinking it, sweetheart. Just do what feels right. I got you.” He resumed his slow plunder of her mouth, clasping her a little more tightly when her hands clenched at his shirt-covered shoulders and her body relaxed a little more.

Savannah sighed when he pressed their bodies together, fingers bunching in his shirt. Dean paused to be sure she was okay, letting her find his lips before taking the lead again.

They’d found a rhythm now, their breath synced up as her timid tongue danced with his. Dean was feeling love-drunk; Savannah was intoxicating him, winding him up and he wanted nothing more than to make her come. His fingers itched to find their way under her panties and make her tremble and scream his name.

Patience. He reminded himself. Go slow. He pulled away, letting his hands trail down Savannah’s goose-pebbled arms.

“Hey.” he said softly.

“Hi.” Savannah’s cheeks blazed red as she met his eyes, ducking her head to look at the comforter between them.

“Was that the first time you’ve ever done that?” Dean asked.

“No,” Savannah replied softly. “But it’s the first time I enjoyed it.” Dean clenched his jaw angrily, pressing his lips to Savannah’s forehead when she ducked her head.

The door opened noisily as Sam returned, drawing both their gazes as he stumbled in the room with three cups and a bag of food clutched in his mouth. He kicked the door shut with his foot and set everything on the small dining table.

“Good, you’re both up. Come and eat, we have work to do. I found us a case while I was out.” Savannah gaped at him like a fish, mouth opening and closing as her brain struggled to form a response. Behind her, Dean cleared his throat as he shifted awkwardly.

“You two go ahead, I’m gonna take a shower.” He waited until Sam’s back was turned before darting into the bathroom without a second glance. Savannah snickered quietly, figuring he was just embarrassed like she was. She took advantage of Sam’s turned back to get out of bed and straighten her clothes before joining him at the small table to eat.

Sam pushed her breakfast toward her without meeting her eyes, nodding when she thanked him.

“What happened to the sock on the door?” he asked as she started to dig in. Savannah froze, mouth poised to bite into her donut. She blinked at the younger Winchester in bewilderment, face burning, as he stared at her expectantly.

“We weren’t-”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam gave a soft chuckle. “Then why is Dean hiding in the bathroom?” Savannah’s face was lava hot now, and Sam was grinning smugly. Savannah clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“You heard him; he’s showering!” she argued defensively.

“That’s not all he’s doing.” Sam muttered at his egg-white omelet, laughing when Savannah choked on her donut.

“We just kissed!” She whisper-shouted around her food, making Sam smile.

“And it’s about damn time,” he said. “Just remember what I said about the sock for the future.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Savannah hid her face in her hands, wishing the floor would swallow her whole. The bathroom door opened and Dean made his way to the table, rubbing his hands together excitedly. He claimed the open seat at the head of the table, bringing with him the smell of his body wash.

“So what’s the case?” he asked, taking a huge bite of his bacon egg and cheese sandwich. Sam debated for a moment whether to tease his brother, but elected to let the moment pass for Savannah’s sake. He wasn’t sure she’d be able to look him in the eye for a while. He rolled his eyes at his brothers bulging cheeks and turned his attention to his phone, pulling up the news article he’d been reading.

“So get this-”

#meowmeow writes #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #the fox & the squirrel

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ventihonklightice · 4 years ago

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Clingy || Wilbur Soot

word count: 3.5k

~~~

Y/N had been lounging around the flat all day as her boyfriend filmed videos with his fellow Minecraft friends. Wilbur had currently been recording with Tommy and Quackity, another one of their wild Minecraft mod videos. She knew her love was busy and had his responsibilities with his own videos alongside the ones made with his friends, but she had been scrolling through Twitter and saw that he had just gotten verified. There was no way he knew about the news as he had been busy all day doing his job.

A smile grew on her face as she rushed to his bedroom door to share the great news, however she paused as she heard the nature of his current discussion with his friends.

“- but she’s been good. We’ve been really good,” Y/N smiled at his words, seemingly knowing it was about her. That smile quickly disappeared at the words her boyfriend was about to spew. “Just, she’s been kind of needy and clingy or something,” Wilbur shook his head not fully understanding his own words, looking at the wall behind his monitor too lost in his thoughts. He couldn’t quite understand his own thoughts half of the time, especially today as all he has done was played Minecraft. Slowly, the hate he has been receiving has been catching up to him, forcing him into this pit he’d never thought he’d be in which added to the stress that fueled his words. “Like she thinks she always has to be with me. Right now even, she’s at the flat.” Wilbur ran his fingers through his messy brown hair as he proceeded to explain his relationship. “I love her, I do, but I can’t even be with her right now so I don’t understand why she has to be here,” he confessed, mind clouded with tiredness masked by the wine he downed in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Y/N furrowed her brows leaning forward to listen further. “Well, she loves you, so what do you expect her to do? Not want to be with you?” She heard an American accent, likely belonging to Quackity.

“I-I don’t know. It’s just- I’m not used to this. It’s been a while since I’ve seriously been with a girl like this before. I just need space, but she wants to be around me constantly. It’s annoying.” The anger, the annoyance, and the frustration were all evident in his voice, making Y/N second guess a lot of her choices the past few days. She looked down at her hands, the mustard sleeves reaching past her palms belonging to the man behind the door she leaned on.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to push back her tears before she walked away, not being able to listen to him any further. Her eyes began to water more and more as bothering him was the very last thing she had ever wished to do. She sat on the couch before pulling the jumper off of her body, folding it neatly in her hands before pulling on her shoes.

Fanning her face quickly to reduce any possible puffiness or redness, Y/N timidly knocked on the door to Wilbur’s room. “Hold on guys,” he spoke to his friends, muting himself on discord. “Yeah?” She heard his deep voice call from the other side, taking it as her cue to push the door open. His hair fluffed about as he turned to face her. “Hey what’s up?” He asked with a soft smile.

“I uh think I’m gonna head home, got an early shift tomorrow and all,” she spoke softly while avoiding his gaze. Y/N wasn’t one to lie so she felt guilty for doing so but she didn’t know what else to do.

He furrowed his brows, confused at her words. She almost always stays the night, especially when she works early because he lives closer to her job.

“You sure? You’re more than welcome to stay the night. Y-You always do,” he muttered with slight concern in his words as he took his headset off.

She shook her head lightly, “nah it’s alright. Gotta water the plants,“ Y/N fiddled with the door handle as her other hand traced the sweater, knowing full well she doesn’t have any plants.

“Alright, I’ll walk you out,” he stood up, adjusting the chair in order to do so. Y/N reached out to him, his jumper resting in her hand, “where’d you like me to put this?”

He stood up, increasingly getting confused at her actions because he knew that she loved wearing his clothes and stealing them any chance she got. “I-I’ll um, just toss it on the bed,” he pointed to the made bed, slipping on his shoes to walk her out.

She felt his form loom over her as he walked with her out of the flat and to her car. They walked in silence, uncharacteristically. Wilburs’s hands were stuffed in the pockets of his pants lost in his thoughts as he heard her car alarm He walked to the driver’s side, lost in his thoughts while he opened the door for her.

She approached the door, getting ready to sit in the driver’s seat before turning to Wilbur to bid goodbye. He leaned down to kiss her, standard for all of their farewells, but she turned her head at the last second, his lips crashing onto her cheek. His heart dropped at the odd situation he was placed in, wondering why this was happening.

“I-I’ll see you later,” she smiled softly before sitting down and preparing to drive.

He could let her go like this. He had to know if things were good, okay even. Before he shut the door, he leaned down a bit to get closer to her. “Is everything okay? You seem a bit off, darling.”

“Y-yeah I’m just really tired,” she chuckled humorlessly, placing a hand on her forehead. “Sorry, it’s just been a weird day.”

“If you’re that tired you could stay here,” his voice practically pleaded, assuring her once more that she always had a place there.

“I-I’ll be fine, I promise.” Her words were soft along with her eyes, but she just wanted to give him what he desired; space.

“You sure?” He asked once more, extremely concerned, but what answer was he really expecting? Y/N nodded her head, “positive.”

“Alright, text me when you get home,” he leaned back, preparing to shut the door for her. She nodded her head, pushing her keys into the ignition. “I love you,” he spoke sincerely, bending down so that she’d be able to see him better once more. There was an emotion in YN’s eyes that he couldn’t recognize, but the smile on her face was sad. “I-you too, I’ll see you later,” she fiddled with her keys before meeting his gaze.

His heart shattered at the words. You too? What the hell is that suppose to mean?

He gave a tight smile before shutting the door for her. You too, the words echoed in his mind as he began walking back to the front door, pausing his steps on the pavement to watch her pull out of the driveway. He sighed before turning back to his path home. Upon returning, the place felt dimmer without her presence and he quickly took note of that.

Letting out a huge sigh, he plopped down at his desk, unmuting himself on Discord. “Sorry bout that, I’m back. J-Just walking Y/N out,” he spoke, taking the only opportunity his friends quieted down to speak.

“Wilbur!” Tommy yelled as the rest of the VC, which now had Niki, Jack and Fundy, errupted in chaos. “W-What? What the fuck happened?”

“Dude you got verified on Twitter,” Quackity shouted. His eyes went wide, opening the light blue app to see if it was true. Sure enough, a small check mark emphasized his name. He beamed at the sight of it, rushing to make a tweet about how grateful he was.

He went back to his feed, noticing that Y/N had made a tweet about ten or so minutes prior.

y/n✨| @yourusername

so proud of my favorite boy getting verified <3 love you @WilburSoot !!

His heart clenched at the tweet, being drawn back to the events that occurred moments beforehand. He liked and retweeted it, watching his fans swoon at the couple’s interaction without knowing what was happening behind closed doors, before getting back to his friends being completely distracted by thoughts on the girl he loves.

~~~

Y/N never texted him to tell him that she was home. She woke up late that morning seeing a few texts from him about twitter, how his stream went and so on.

As she looked at the time on her phone, realizing the lie she told him about working early and chose not to answer quite yet.

She spent the rest of her day around the house, cleaning, cooking or watching TV. She wasn’t in any mood to go on social media, not wanting to interact with Wilbur quite yet. Y/N sighed thinking about yesterday, thinking that it would be a better idea to just give him some space.

And so she did, for several days before Wilbur’s worry consumed him.

He sat on Discord with his friends, days after his last interaction with his girlfriend. “It’s just weird because she’s never like this. She always calls or texts me whenever she gets the chance regardless of whether or not I ask,” he expressed to his friends as they were fucking around on their own Minecraft world. He wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing in the game, just aimlessly pressing buttons and moving his mouse as he thought of Y/N.

Tommy chuckled shortly, “now look whos being needy.”

“Shut up Tommy,” Wilbur explained, running a hand across his chin, fingertips gracing his incredibly overgrown stubble. “Look I’m just saying,” the blond furthered, “there’s no need for you to say she’s clingy or whatever when your freaking out over a text! Like you saw her less than what, two, three ago?”

Wilbur shook his head, fuming now, “Oh my god, shut the fuck up Tommy! How would you, a literal child, know anything about what’s going on? You’ve barely hit puberty!” His outburst caused his friends to quiet down, them not being used to anger being directed in such a way.

“Wilbur,” Tommy started once again, becoming more serious, “I know you. You worrying over a few short days almost disproves everything you said the other day. I think you don’t know how to handle affection well, not that she’s clingy or whatever.” Hearing Tommy acting serious and not childish for this one second made something snap within Wilbur, knowing that the child was right.

He sighed, “I-I’m sorry for snapping at you. Everything is happening at once in my life right now and Y/N not talking to me has me worried. This isn’t what’s normal between us. It’s strange.”

“But isn’t this what you wanted? She isn’t being as ‘needy’ now. You got your wish, didn’t you?” George chimed in, hoping to help even though his own experiences with relationships hasn’t always been the best.

“Yeah, and I fucking hate it, I don’t know why I even said that. I don’t mean it. I love when she’s around, I hate when she isn’t,” Wilbur went on, his thoughts focusing on the good memories he has with his girlfriend.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Dream spoke ominously, feeling as if now was the most appropriate time to speak.

“I-I’m gonna call her,” the distressed twenty year old expressed, whipping out his phone to go to her number. As the phone rang, he became more and more nervous.

“What if she got in an accident? Or someone kidnapped her or something?”He rushed before him and his friends heard “please leave a message for 3-“

“Wilbur, she’s probably fine. She probably had a long day at work or something,” Niki spoke, hoping to add a small but of optimism to the situation.

“Yeah but she would’ve told me that. She would’ve called me to rant about her day, and tell me how much she wanted to see me, but she didn’t.” He leaned back in his chair, getting more and more stressed out over this.

“I-I think I’m gonna head to her flat.”

~~~

The drive was long as his anxiety slowly but surely began to increase with every green light. He pulled into her complex, parking and building up the courage to confront her.

“It’ll be fine. Things are fine,” he muttered to himself as he walked up the steps to the familiar doormat.

He knocked on the door, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. After a minute, there was no response so he knocked again with more ergency.

“Just a minute,” he heard her soft voice yell out, flooding him with relief. The voice wasn’t as warm as it typically was, only increasing his nervousness.

Before he knew it, Y/N opened the door, eyes meeting his chest before trickling to his eyes. “Wilbur? What are you doing here?”

He froze, shocked at the situation that he forced upon himself without realizing it. “I-You weren’t answering any calls or texts. I was worried,” he mumbled, immediately taking note of her puffy eyes.

“Have you been crying?” He stepped closer to her with concern lacing his voice. He reached out to hold her waist, caress her cheek, anything, but she stepped away slighted. Y/N blinked, “y-yeah, it’s just allergies.”

“You don’t have allergies like that Y/N. May I please come in?” Wilbur knew her better than that, probably even better than she knew herself. She nodded shortly opening the door wider for him to enter, looking down at her sock clad feet.

He entered the tiny flat, taking not that the once welcoming space has become littered with turmoil. The tissues by the sofa didn’t go unnoticed and neither did the pile of dishes in the sink. “What’s been going on? These past few days you’ve been acting strange,” he asked sincerely.

Y/N looked around, finding something and pretending to be busy with it. “I’ve just been busy,” she mumbled looking over the pile of mail she refused to actually look through. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, would you like some tea?” She asked, realizing her manners.

“Y/N,” he spoke defeated, “come on talk to me, please.” He practically begged as he followed her steps into the kitchen to start the kettle, even though he didn’t give her an answer.

“Everything’s fine, Wilbur,” she replied absentmindedly as she searched for her various teas. “We got chai tea, black tea, Engli-“

“Y/N, I dont fucking want tea right now I want you to talk to me,” he shouted, approaching her in the kitchen and forcing her to face him by pulling her waist gently. She gasped at the loudness of his words, not used to him yelling at her.

“Wilbur,” Y/N whispered, her hands on his chest as he looked down into her eyes. Desperation was clear in his before being mimicked in his words, “this is the longest you’ve gone without calling me Wil. Come on Y/N, please.” His voice cracked towards the end, the shakiness not leaving.

She closed her eyes tightly before she pulled herself out of his arms, turning to grab two mugs out of the cupboard, “you’re getting chai tea.”

“Love, I just want us to be okay,” he spoke passionately, pleading for things to be right.

“We are okay Wilbu- Wil,” she corrected, more so forcing the nickname to combat his complaint. As she prepared each cup, putting Wilbur’s desired amount of sugar into his cup and respectively her own.

He shook his head, not believing her words as his own eyes began to turn red, “there’s something wrong and I can tell. Please just-please Y/N.” His voice was completely broken and she knew she had to express her concerns. She paused her motions, staring at the jar of sugar she just placed onto the counter.

“I-I didn’t want to bother you,” she muttered softly, examining the mugs before her.

The man sniffed, confusion growing within him. “W-What do you mean? You could never bother me Y/N,” his voice soft, approaching her once again.

She shook her head, moving to put sugar in each cup, forgetting that she already did so, “but that’s not true. We both know that.” The water remained on the stove while copious amount of sugar occupied each cup. Wilbur gently grabbed the hand holding the spoon that shoveled the sugar into the mugs, making her stop her own actions.

“Yes it is, love.” Wilbur whispered softly as she put the spoon into the jar, coming back to reality. Y/N let out a shaky breath, facing the counter while Wilbur occupied her side, facing her.

“So why’d you tell all of your friends that I’ve been clingy and needy and overbearing and everything under the sun?” She whispered as her voice wobbled, indicating that tears would soon come falling down.

Wilbur furrowed his brows, confused at the words she expressed. He scavenged his mind, not understanding what she was stating. “What are yo-“ he cut himself off, taking his hand from hers as he remembered that conversation.

Guilt washed over his soul as he realized the greater impact of his words. She thought she had to change....for those idiotic meaningless words expressed in a fit of stress and exhaustion. He shook his head lightly, refusing to look at her, refusing to look at the damage he’s caused.

“I didn’t mean it Y/N. I just-there was a lot on my plate and I just had to complain about something. A-And you were there to complain about.” He spoke honestly, knowing that it doesn’t excuse his behavior. The sound of the kettle went off, the whistle tones attacking his ears while Y/N ignored it to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I just didn’t want to be a burden,” she muttered with a wobbling bounce that made the tall idiotic man pull her into his arms.

“No,no,no don’t ever ever think that again. You are not a burden. You never were Y/N. This is on me, I shouldn’t have said what I had said,” he muttered into her hair, repeating apologies like a mantra while kissing her hairline.

She let go, allowing her pent up feelings from the past few day flow out through tears while in the comfort of his arms, “my biggest fear is bothering people. I-I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” he pulled away to hold her tear stained cheeks in his hands, regret prominent in his gaze, “you have been nothing but patient with me these past few months and that is something I don’t even have the words to express, love.”

“You, Y/N L/N, are not a burden, not now, not ever,” he whispered lovingly. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m sorry I even said it. I didn’t mean it, but fuck I shouldn’t have. Look at what I’ve done to you,” his voice wavered as he pulled away to assess the damage. “Fuck,” he shook his head as a sob escaped his lips before he could pull her into his arms again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, holding her tight while the whistle pierced his ears. She leaned back slightly, pressing her forehead against his while closing her eyes, “I know, I know. It’s okay. I know you. I know you wouldn’t mean it.”

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her head in one of his hands. “I love you too, Wil,” she whispered back, pulling his lips onto hers, sealing their words with this actions.

As much as he loved the feeling of her soft lips on his once again, he pulled away. “Okay, okay, as much as I don’t want this to stop, that damn kettle is driving me mad,” he expressed, making Y/N chuckle before kissing him on the cheek and going to turn off the stove.

He watched fondly as she was about to pour the water into the mugs, stoping to see the plethora of sugar in each. “Oh shit,” she paused, laughing at the mess she had made. Wilbur snapped out of his gaze, examining the scene that caused her words.

He shook his head lightly, grabbing the kettle from her hands before placing it back onto the stovetop. “You,” he turned to face her, poking her cheek, “go to bed, get all comfy and put on a film. I will finish the tea and bring it to you.” His eyes got soft towards the end of his statement as he went to assess the mug situation.

“Then,” he spoke gently, grabbing her waist once again, littering her face with kisses that trailed down her neck, “I’ll spend the whole day making it up to you.”

Y/N laughed, running her fingers through his soft hair, “can’t wait.” His lips stayed pressed onto her neck, before they made their way back to her own.

#Wilbur soot #Wilbur soot imagine #Wilbur soot x reader #Wilbur soot one shot #Wilbur soot fanfiction #Wilbur soot hc #Wilbur soot smut #wilbur mcyt #mcyt #minecraft #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream mcyt #dream #dream team

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mindofharry · 3 years ago

Text

Georgia

HELLO! WELCOME BACK TO J, H AND Y/N! PART 2 TO FUNERAL….. I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU GUYS CRY BUT HOPEFULLY THIS ONE IS A LITTLE MORE LIGHT HEARTED! SMUT, ANGST AND FLUFF - Y/N BEING A COMPLETE BOSS!!! FEEDBACK IS WELCOME AS ALWAYS :-)

✧ ✧ ✧

“It hurt. You hurt me. And i’m leaving”

That sentence has been haunting Jonah and Harry for almost a week now. You hurt me. How could they have been so blind? So selfish? The put their egotistical needs before her, made Y/N feel lesser than when she is the most extraordinary thing to ever happen to either of them. They’re mostly angry, angry at themselves, angry at Lucy even though she did absolutely nothing wrong. They were upset too, that Y/N used her safe word for the first time.

It was pretty traumatic for everyone.

Y/N left seven days ago to stay with her mum and dad for a bit. Said she needed space and that they’d talk whenever she was ready. Not a moment before. But of course, the boys didn’t listen, calling her 300 times a day, knocking on her parents door at all hours. It was upsetting to see and hear their calls, but Y/N knew this had to happen.

“Baby, please.” Jonah begged shouting up from the front garden. Y/N was home alone, which she was thankful for, her mother worried a lot. She didn’t need to hear this. All she told them was they needed a bit of space, normal couple stuff and she left it at that.

Jonah has been in the front garden for 30 minutes. Begging. Crying. Y/N’s sure a police officer is going to show up soon.

“I’m begging you. Please talk to me.” Jonah sobbed and Y/N placed a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. It was too much. There was so much pain, she couldn’t handle it.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” Jonah said, sitting down on the wall.

Y/N breathed in and out, trying to calm herself down. She needed him to go before her parents came home, so if talking would get to leave, she would do that.

Y/N braced herself.

“Ask him to leave. That’s it.” She whispered to herself, opening the front door. Jonah looked up with wide eyes and immediately got up from his spot on the wall. He didn’t look good. His hair was all over the place, he looked like he hadn’t slept in three days and he had a slight bit of stubble.

“Y/N, baby.” Jonah whispered placing hands on her face. Y/N leaned into his touch, cursing to herself for letting this happen so easily.

“Y/N?” A voice called out, she looked around and saw Harry. He must’ve just arrived. Now she had her work cut out for her — Harry would be harder to convince.

“You guys, you need to leave before my parents come home.” Y/N mumbled stepping out of Jonah’s hold. He looked hurt. Harry walked towards Y/N and Jonah, placing a hand on Jonah’s shoulder.

“We need you to come back home. Please. We’ll do anything.” Harry said and Y/N let a tear fall, Harry was quick to move his finger and wipe the tear from her flushed cheeks. He couldn’t believe they did this to her, made her cry, made her yell, made her believe she wasn’t good enough. Harry would never forgive himself for making his love feel that way. He thought the punishment was ok, but looking back it was a huge mistake.

She wasn’t even bold. And that put thoughts into her head. Was she boring? Were they bored of just fucking her? She needed answers.

“We need to talk. So come in.” Y/N said with a sigh. Jonah looked excited, Harry still looked distraught.

He was so disappointed in himself.

Y/N brought them into the living room, sitting on the couch beside the window. Jonah sat in front of her and Harry beside him, on the sofa they usually sit on together. They missed Y/N so much. They missed her voice, her moans, her clothes everywhere, her study notes taped up on the wall. They missed her welcoming personality, warm hands. They missed fucking everything about her.

“Uh” Y/N said and another tear fell.

“I don’t really know what to say.” She started looking at the boys. “I’m hurt and it’s such an overpowering feeling. I feel utterly broken. But i’ve had a lot of time to think and you guys thought it would be pleasurable for everyone.”

“But it wasn’t.” Harry interrupted.

“It was a stupid mistake and we’re so sorry”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, I can tell.”

She let out a sigh, “I never, ever want to feel the way I did. And I wouldn’t even wish it on my worst enemy.” She said and Jonah wiped under his eyes.

“My friends say not to take you back.”

Harry bit his lip and looked down, knowing what coming next.

“But i’m not my friends. I’m giving you a second chance.”

Jonah came rushing over, but Y/N put her hand up.

“I have one condition though.”

“I’m allowed to punish you guys.”

Harry nodded, while Jonah got on his knees placing his hands on her thighs.

“We’ll do it whatever you want. Just come home.”

And so Y/N called her mum, said she was going back home and then packed all the stuff she brought with her. Jonah was very clingy, not wanting to leave her side and Harry was just thankful for another chance. He doesn’t think he would survive life without his Y/N.

Y/N balances the relationship, they need her.

“I’ll make you some food. Or do you want to order in?” Jonah asked taking her bags. Y/N pursed her lips shrugging of her coat.

“I want you both in the bedroom. Don’t make a peep.” Y/N said walking to the bathroom. Harry looked at Jonah who looked high on love. They both walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed.

“Thanks so much for coming, Katie. I didn’t know if you would agree to this.” Y/N said taking Katie’s coat. Katie waved a hand, “If it’s to get back at men i’m all for it. Now let’s go get naked.” Katie teased and Y/N shook her head.

“You’re just eating me out and that’s it ok?” Y/N said and Katie nodded.

“Don’t worry. I understand.”

Y/N walked into the bedroom and saw how excited the two were. That was until they saw Katie.

“What’s happening?” Harry asked as Y/N got the cuffs from the closet and Katie sat on the bed.

“I’m going to cuff you boy to the radiator. And you’re going to watch as this lovely lady pleases me.”

Harry and Jonah looked at eachother and did as they were told. Y/N kissed both of their lips before cuffing them to the radiator. Then she walked over to Katie who was stripping.

“God, you’re so sexy.” Y/N moaned placing her lips on Katie’s. Jonah whimpered tugging at his cuffs.

Y/N took her top and skirt off leaving her naked, Katie placed her lips on Y/N’s nipples and Y/N moved so she was sitting on Katie’s lap.

“So, So hot.” Katie whispered. She threw Y/N down on the bed making Y/N giggle.

“Don’t you fucking think about it.” Harry said sternly, tugging at the cuffs.

Katie didn’t waste anytime, placing her lips on Y/N’s clit.

It was good, but it wasn’t Jonah or Harry.

“Fuck.”

“No more, Y/N. This isn’t funny, we get it now.”

Y/N climaxed and sighed, Katie jumped off the bed gathering her clothes before pecking Y/N’s lips.

“Good luck with them.” Katie winked walking out of the bedroom. Y/N laughed and got up unlocking the cuffs.

“Now we’re even.”

#Jonah Harry and Y/N #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry x you #harry styles x ofc #harry x y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurbs

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ohbuckie · 4 years ago

Text

A BOY FALLS IN LOVE WITH A GIRL | B.B.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky simply shows you how much he loves you.

warnings: fluffy smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving)

word count: 1.4k

[listen]

He licks his lips after he kisses you. He’s always done it—always wanted to taste your chapstick, to guess what flavor it is.

“Mint.”

You only smile and cup his cheeks, pressing your mouth against his again to give him another taste. His hands find your waist and he pulls you into his body, rubbing small circles into your back with his thumbs. Your arms snake around his neck, your nose pushing out a long exhale against his cheek.

He’s mastered the art of kissing you over time. He knows which way you’ll turn your head when you first lean in, he knows that you like his bottom lip between your teeth. He knows that he’d kiss you all day—until your lips were swollen and sore—if you’d let him. He knows that you always put on chapstick after you brush your teeth, and that your lips are a much better delivery system for him than the tube on the nightstand is.

You arch your back into him, desperate to feel closer, and feel him grin against you. That big, stupid, toothy smile that only comes out when you’re alone together.

“Stop smiling.” You mumble against his cheek. “I’m trying to kiss you.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, taking your chin in his hand and positioning his mouth over yours again, softly pecking your lips.

It’s been too many days to count, and he still makes you weak in the knees. His lips meet your cheek, and then your chin, and then your jaw, and they soon make their way down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently, though not hard enough to leave any marks.

He smells like coffee beans and cucumber body wash, which has grown to comfort you over the years. His hands are calloused, his lips unusually chapped, his hair perpetually messy. He cups your breast in his hand, pushes your (his) shirt above her chest, finds the clasp at the back of your bra and pulls it from your shoulders. His lips wrap around a nipple, sucking gently while his thumb rubs over the soft skin covering your ribs. He’s never been shy of giving attention to your chest, and it makes you smile how predictable he can be.

You twirl his hair around your fingers, close your eyes to feel him above you, wrap your legs around his hips.

“Bucky.” You whisper, arching your back up into him. “James.”

“Yeah? You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Just want to get to the good stuff.”

He smiles. “Be patient,” he kisses the valley between your breasts, “I’m getting there.” Another kiss. “And don’t call me ‘James.’”

Early morning sun pours through the open windows, breeze circulating through the messy room, chirping birds shouting at nobody in particular. Bucky doesn’t seem to hear them, though, when both of his hands push your sweats down your hips and he kisses the newly exposed skin, making you shiver. He’s gentle in his actions, even with the rough skin of his hands, and the scratchy stubble that covers his chin.

The air outside is cold, and raises bumps across your arms and legs. Bucky rubs his warm hands over your chilled skin once your pants and underwear leave your ankles, and he works his way up. Inner thighs, lower stomach—he kisses delicately and lovingly, staring up at you with adoration.

His tongue touches you, warm and wet, and trails over your most sensitive area, the one that only he really knows how to operate. You feel his breath over your legs, his lips wrapping around you. He sucks, licks, rubs—does everything just right, as always. A moan escapes from plush lips that have been robbed of their chapstick by greedier ones, and your fingers push through his soft hair, making a fist around it and pulling lightly.

With a tongue slithering inside of you and teeth grazing your sensitive bud, your mouth falls open in a silent prayer, one that asks whoever’s listening to never let him leave you. Your eyes close and your hips push your core upwards, hungry for more.

A stripe up your center, a finger dipping into you, a thumb against your nerves; he moves them how he’s supposed to, slowly and smoothly, with purpose and precaution. He’s a puppeteer and you’re his doll, reacting to the way that he pulls at your strings exactly how he expects you to, your expression of ecstasy stuck in one position, much like the ceramic face of a play-thing.

His manipulations are unmerciful, and you quickly fall apart in his hands, letting him observe how you cry out and then crumble into yourself. Your bottom lip is painted with the blood that you’ve summoned with your teeth, and you only notice it when you taste it, your tongue darting out and retreating back into your cavernous mouth bearing the gift of metallic flavor and red-tinted saliva.

His underwear falls to the floor, and he’s ready for you right away.

You’ve been doing this for years now, over and over again, but he still looks at you like you’re the only woman he’s ever had, though you both know that that’s untrue. The look on his face is nothing short of mesmerized as he rakes his eyes down your body, hardly even blinking, as if he might miss something.

The stretch of the two of you joining together is familiar, but still feels as good as it did the first time, which wasn’t anywhere close to as sweet as this moment is. He falls over you, holding himself up by his arms, which allows you to kiss along the scar that joins his metal arm with his flesh. He pushes your chin up with his nose, kisses down your throat, sinks his teeth into the fragile skin of your collarbone. You inhale sharply when he rolls his hips, exhaling slowly while you get used to it.

“Okay?”

You nod. “Perfect.”

He usually has a routine, but now’s not the time for that. Right now, he’s more focused on being close—being loved, being happy—than he is on how many times you finish.

You accept what you’re being given, however many inches out of his eight, and a gentle pace that, despite its softness, is more than satisfying. He holds your hips down with his large hands, pushes down hard enough that you can’t move unless he allows it, not that you want to.

You watch his triceps harden and his abs tense as he works towards a climax—his first, your second. His jaw tightens and his lower lip is offered to his teeth, who hold it tightly and threaten to unleash his muffled noises if he lets go. He’s hypnotized by the way that he disappears into you with every push, and the way that he’s returned to the world with every pull.

Nothing could ruin this moment in which he is silently worshiping you, studying the way your body moves, both inside and out. You clench around him, mostly by accident, when he pulls one side of the knot in your stomach and it nearly comes undone.

“I’m right there.” You warn him, and he nods, picking up his pace only by a little bit until bliss washes over you again. It’s less intense than last time, but far from tame.

He mutters out a string of curses when he loses the tempo he’s been conducting from the start and spills into you, stilling, holding himself against you until it’s over. He takes a breath and leans down to kiss you. It’s full of affection and sentiment, and his lips seem to melt against yours instantly, falling into the pattern that they always do.

He withdraws, leaving you empty, except for the seed that he planted inside of you, and wipes you with a cloth, dampened with warm water from the bathroom. He throws it and lets it hit the wall near his hamper so that he can crawl into bed beside you.

“I love you.” He kisses you, still staring at your lips even after he pulls away.

“I love you too.” You start to sit up, pulling the shirt that still hangs from your shoulders back down to where it’s supposed to be.

“Nuh-uh, we’re not doing that today.” He insists, catching you by your shoulder and carefully pushing you back against your pillow.

“Doing what?”

“Getting out of bed.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i || part ii || part iii

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

word count: ~9.4k

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

You’re his only solace.

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

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

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

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

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

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

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

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

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

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

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

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

Waste away, all alone.

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

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

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

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

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

It’s a harder descent.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s grim in its predictability.

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

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

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

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

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

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

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

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

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

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

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

It feels comfortable, warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to be called?”

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

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

His mouth is dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

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

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

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

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

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

...

The next days are long.

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

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

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

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

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

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

It feels safest with you near.

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

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

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

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

“Can I show you some?”

“...Constellations?”

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

Whatever you’d like, he’d do.

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

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

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

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

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

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

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

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

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

So, you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you see now?”

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

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

...

After that night, you always share the same couch.

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

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

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

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

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

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

“I can do it myself.”

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

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

Safety scissors would be even easier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It bothers him—

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror.

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

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

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

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can.

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant.

All the same, the trim feels good.

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

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

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

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

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

“M-make it stop!”

Keigo stills.

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

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!”

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

“Please, please!”

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

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

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

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

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

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

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

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

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

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

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

...

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

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

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

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

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

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

At your bedside, he freezes.

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

You don’t even notice him.

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

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

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

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

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

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

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

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

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

Then, there’s silence.

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

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

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

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

As much as he can, anyways.

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

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

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

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

We just don’t talk about it.

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

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

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

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

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

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

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

Keigo can’t disagree.

...

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

Your demon was near, though.

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

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

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

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

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

There was just you.

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

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

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

It’s molten.

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

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

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you melt into him.

...

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

None of them make progress.

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

...

Endeavor visits him.

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

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

It helps you relax.

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

And so, so sweet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

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

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

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

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

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

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

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

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

(Maybe it is.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

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

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

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

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

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

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

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

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

Some things never change.

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

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, obviously I can't fight—”

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

You’ve done enough.

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

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

Keigo is Hawks.

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

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

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

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

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

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

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

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

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

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

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night.

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

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

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

But you’re not in the common room.

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

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

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

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

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

Even with the inevitably of progress.

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

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

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

But he’s insatiable that last night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More, more, more.

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

...

Keigo leaves the next morning.

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

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

...

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

How can he not?

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

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

All disgusting reminders.

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

And won’t ever give him again.

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

...

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

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

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

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

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

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

...

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

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

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it.

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How much had you lost?

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

He had no idea.

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

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

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

And alive.

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

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

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

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

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?”

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

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

The need to keep something precious safe.

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

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

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

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

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

“... P-Pardon?”

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

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

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

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itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Mix → Baby Holland

The sequel to Baby Mix

Pairing: Little Mix member!reader x Tom Holland

Summary: The youngest member of Little Mix has something to reveal after not seeing the girls for months.

A/n: Set in Corona times, I know London lifted their lockdown restrictions for a while then initiated them again after. But anyway, this is set around that time when lockdown rules were lifted. I had so much fun writing this! I hope you all enjoy it🥰

You felt a rush of excitement and nervousness through your veins as you walked around your home, making sure every corner was clean. You entered the dining room and double checked each plate, checking to see if they all had the essential utensils, a napkin, and a wine glass. You trusted Tom to set up the table, but today was a big day and you wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

“Darling, you don’t need to triple check everything in the house. Nothing’s moved since the last you’ve looked at it.” Tom teases you as he enters the dining room from the kitchen. He wore a tight black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with dark blue jeans. During the time in lockdown, his hair has grown out and he’s been working on his facial hair. You smiled at the 5 o’clock shadow that graced his face; it’s been known that he took forever to grow out facial hair, so to see that there was some light stubble on his face made him really happy. He was very proud of it.

“You look extremely hot right now.” You comment, meeting him in the middle of the room. His hands instantly place themselves at your waist, before one hand moves to rest on your growing stomach and the other on the small of your back.

“Is that the hormones talking?” He squints his eyes playfully at you. You gently shove him, only for him to pull you back closer into his chest. “No? I mean you always look good in whatever you wear. But it could possibly be the hormones?” You ramble.

Tom chuckles, his eyes gazing at you like you’re the only woman in the world. Well technically, you are the only woman in his world; besides his mum and grandma of course. But you were it for him, he wanted nobody else but you. Sure, you guys weren’t married, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t committed to you. The baby might’ve came before the wedding, but he will marry you one day.

“How are you feeling?” He asks you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Ever since the two of you have discovered you were pregnant, the morning sicknesses have gotten worse and worse. You were really hoping you’d be one of those lucky mothers who wouldn’t experience morning sickness, but with your luck it never happened. This morning you stumbled out the bed and into the toilet; today’s puke was probably the most horrible one this week, as gross as that sounds. Tom was behind you in an instant, tying your hair into a ponytail and rubbing soothing circles onto your back. It pained him to see you like this, he couldn’t do anything but hold your hair back, help you get your puke out, and whisper comforting things into your ear. He considered on canceling today’s event after you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom and snuggled back into the sheets, eyes red and puffy. Though when he mentioned on canceling, you declined immediately. You had both been anticipating today and you weren’t going to let some morning sickness postpone such a special event.

He looked at you concerned, scanning your face for any discomfort. Your lips quirk up to a fond smile as you kiss the worry away from him, “I’m doing much better than this morning, we’re both doing good.”

“That’s great, that’s all that matters to me right now.” He responds, pulling you into a hug. One thing you’ve noticed about Tom and your pregnancy was that he was very touchy and protective. Though he was already like that, it seemed like the pregnancy intensified his protectiveness, or just him in general. He was very alert of his surroundings, making sure everything was clean, that you were always comfortable, and that you weren’t experiencing any pain from the pregnancy. He was dedicated to making sure you were treated like a princess, you and your baby.

“You’ve got everything handled just in case they all come early right? I’m gonna head up and get dressed.” You pull away to look at him.

He nods at you, ensuring that he had everything under control, “Yeah, I’ve got it.” He pecks your lips before you pull away and head for the stairs. He watches your figure go up the stairs, just in case you trip or something, he would be there to catch you. When he sees you round the corner safely he yells, “Just give me a shout when you need something!”

He hears a faint ��I know!” from upstairs and the sound of a door closing. He took that as his sign to get back in the kitchen and continue cooking. With the help from Sam, over FaceTime, Tom was able to get around the kitchen and make some proper food for your guests

~⏰~

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror. You wore leggings and an oversized knitted sweater that hid your small bump. You had light make up on, not bothering to put much since it was just the girls and you were all just having a casual lunch. You could already hear the commotion downstairs, Jesy’s contagious laughter, hints of Perrie and Jade’s voices, and Leigh-Anne gushing over some decorative piece in your house. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to give them all the good news. In fact, they’re one of the first ones that will get to know about your and Tom’s secret. Your family and Tom’s being the first to find out the moment you both left the doctor’s office. The girls deserved to be part of the group who found out first, they were like your older sisters and have always been there for you since you’ve known them. They’re basically family.

You giddily head down the stairs with delight as the girls finally come onto view. Perrie screams, throwing herself off the couch and pulling you into a hug. You were stunned by the sudden force, though you tightly wrapped your arms around her, careful to not press your stomach against her.

“Oh! I’ve missed you so so much! It’s been so long, I hate being away from you all for months.” Perrie cried, pressing kisses onto your face. You laughed trying to dodger her.

“Let me smother you with love, I haven’t seen you in so long!” Perrie objected, hugging you one more time. “I miss you too, Pez.” You giggled kissing her cheek.

Jesy comes from behind Perrie and detaches her from you, “Babe, you look beautiful! You’re glowing, look at you!” Jesy cupped your cheeks then wrapped her arms around you.

“Oh my goodness, let me tell you, I didn’t even realize that was Tom.” She said when you both broke the hug. You burst out laughing, placing a hand on her arm.

“No seriously! I didn’t even know he can grow facial hair? I was expecting to see a boy answer the door not a man!” Jesy admits making you laugh even more at her genuinely shocked face.

“Are you still on about Tom and his beard?” Jade asks as she approaches you, Leigh-Anne right behind her.

“Isn’t it a shocker? I live with a man now.” You joke, wrapping your arms around Jade. She squeals, swaying the two of you side to side.

“Babe, your house is stunning!” Leigh-Anne compliments, hugging you and kissing your cheek. You wave her off, “You literally have a whole mansion. I still don’t understand how we have the same paycheck.”

You all settle in the living room for now, waiting for Tom to call for lunch. You could smell the delicious aroma of whatever Tom was cooking in the kitchen and your stomach couldn’t help but growl. Jesy eyes your stomach, “What’ve you got in your stomach? That sounded like an animal.” For a moment you were caught off guard at the mention of your stomach. You eyes widen for a second as you glance down at where your sweater was bunched up.

“Uh—I’m just really hungry.” You brush off her comment, face getting flustered. Jade playfully shakes her head glancing at the kitchen, “Has Thomas not been feeding you right?”

“No—he’s been absolutely amazing! Spending lockdown with him was a dream.” You answer chuckling. Perrie crosses her arms, “Lucky, I had lockdown with a football player. Do you know how difficult it is to live with one?”

“It couldn’t have been that bad?” Leigh-Anne chimed in, sipping on a glass of wine. Perrie huffs leaning forward in her seat, “I felt like a bloody housewife the whole time. I had to keep restocking my fridge every week because he eats everything—like seriously, our food never lasted till the weekend. Alex kept on eating my snacks that I had to start hiding them from him.”

“Are we not going to talk about how Jade found love during a worldwide pandemic?” Jesy mentions pointing at Jade, who has a teasing smile on her face.

She waves her finger at Jesy, “Nuh uh, we aren’t talking about that yet.” You gasp, “And why not?”

“We’re still getting to know each other, I don’t want to rush into things, ya know?” Jade’s face contorts in thought. “Like we’ve done a virtual date on Zoom and have been texting each other back and forth, we’ll see where it goes.”

“You’ll be fine and you’re taking things slow, you should be familiar with each other first before fully committing.” Leigh-Anne assured her. All eyes fell on Leigh-Anne then down to her left hand.

“HOLD ON—LET ME SEE THE RING IN PERSON!” You yell jumping off the couch to where Leigh-Anne was sitting. You sit beside her and take her left hand admiring the giant diamond on her ring finger.

“I can’t believe you’re engaged, I’m so happy for you Lee.” You gush pulling her into a side hug. She nudges your shoulder, gesturing to Tom, “You might be next.” She winked.

“You know, I think Perrie’s gonna be the next one actually.” You smirk at the blonde who rolls her eyes. “Like what Jade said, we’ll see.” She hums shrugging. Your stomach growls again making Leigh-Anne glance at your stomach.

“Oh my goodness” she laughs, moving to look for Tom. “Tom, is lunch ready yet? Your girlfriend’s stomach keeps growling!” You hear something clang in the kitchen before Tom pops his head out, “Lunch’s ready, I was just waiting for you ladies to wrap up the chit chat.”

You all move to the dining room where Tom had laid out the food. He’s made pasta, with some steak, Caprese salad, and garlic bread. Jesy makes a content sound as she scans the food on the table before taking a seat.

“I must say Tom, I’m quite impressed with the food.” Jesy compliments Tom. A proud smile forms on Tom’s face, his eyes switching between you and Jesy. “You heard that darling? Jesy just complimented me.”

“I know, I heard her Tom.” You laugh patting his chest. He pulls your seat out for you, then sits in the chair on your right side while Jesy was on your left. Across from you three were Perrie, Jade, and Leigh-Anne.

“We could eat now right?” Jade asks while reaching out for the pasta’s serving fork.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Tom nods his head at the food. You hear a whine behind you distracting you from the delicious food Tom made. Behind your chair was Tessa who tried to nuzzle herself between your and Tom’s chairs. Not only had Tom grown even more protective of you, but so has Tessa. The sweetheart trailed after you everywhere you go, she stayed in the same room you were in and would lay beside your feet. Though Tom was her rightful owner, she would bark at him whenever he got a little too close to you or your stomach. Tom wasn’t going to lie, he did feel upset and envious that his precious princess barely paid him any mind anymore. But to know that she was only doing it to protect you and her future sibling warmed his heart, so he got over it in an instant.

“Tess, no.” Tom softly scolded the dog trying to shoo her away from the table. She only let out more whines making your heart break. You placed a hand on Tom’s, “Just let her stay, she won’t bother anyone.” Tom nods and pats Tessa’s head.

Lunch goes by splendidly, it was full of laughs and catching up with each other’s lives. It was nice to finally be surrounded by your favorite people in the world after months being apart. Everyone enjoyed the food, complimenting Tom on his excellent work and not burning the kitchen down. Wine and drinks were passed around except for you, who stuck with a water and a small amount of soda. Usually you would also be drinking, clinking glasses with Jade as you down your drinks, but thankfully no one had caught on yet.

“Sorry, we’ve all been rambling about our experiences during the lockdown, what about you two? (Y/n)? Tom? You’ve both been quiet about your experience together.” Leigh-Anne apologized shifting the conversation to you and Tom.

“You could leave the shagging parts out, we already know what went down in this poor house.” Jade poked at you, sending an over exaggerated wink your way. You shake your head and turn back to Tom. The two of you share a look, the look, and make a silent agreement that it was time to announce the big news.

“Well we’ve been busy. You know, we’ve both been doing lots of promo. I’ve been promoting my new film and (y/n)‘s promoting the album with you guys.” Tom started, making normal conversation.

“Most of the time was spent resting, we took advantage of the free time before we have to go on tour and he has to go away for filming.” You continue. The girls nod understanding the situation.

“What did you guys do on the daily though?”

“Lots of puzzles!” Tom answers. “We had the typical move nights and shit.”

“We did lots of baking too!” You add glancing at Tom, who nods along with you. “We’ve actually got a bun in the oven right now!” You say, emphasizing your words. Leigh-Anne and Jesy share a look instantly catching on. Jade’s mouth gapes, her hand holding the wine glass going limp.

“After all this time! Thomas, it’s probably burning by now, shouldn’t you go and check on it?” Perrie scolds, turning back to the kitchen to catch a peek at the oven. She looks excitedly at you two, “What kind of bun have you guys made?”

Jesy’s eyes pan over to Perrie in disbelief, it was like the salad in the box situation all over again. Leigh-Anne holds her palm up to her mouth as the news sinks in. Jade swats Perrie’s arm, “A human one!”

Perrie’s eyes widen in fear, “A human bun? Like cannibalism?” Tom made a sound of confusion, his brows furrowing at her. You stifle a laugh behind your hand as you wait for Perrie to realize.

“They’re having a baby, Pez!” Jesy yelled making Perrie’s eyes grow in shock. The gears move in her head, “OH! Bun in the oven—BUN IN THE OVEN? You’re pregnant?” She screams shooting out of her chair.

You laugh hiding behind your hands. Jesy grabs onto your wrist, pulling it down, and holding your hand. “Wait, are you actually pregnant? You’re not tricking us?”

You shake you head, a giant smile gracing your lips, eyes getting glossy. “I wouldn’t lie to you guys, you guys are gonna be aunts.” You confirm squeezing Jesy’s hand. She gasps pulling you into a hug. Behind you she reaches a hand and playfully shoves Tom, “As if turning her into you wasn’t enough, you just had to insert yourself into her and make another one of you?”

Tom shrugs, though a smile was also on his face, “Hey, to be fair, you might like this one more than me.” Jesy gets up from her seat and approaches Tom.

“Give me a hug, you div.” She ruffles his hair like an older sister would and wraps her arms around him. Tom chuckles hugging her back.

“I know I give you a lot of shit, but I’m so happy that she ended up with you and not some dickhead. Congrats Tom.” She mutters into his ear, before pulling away from the hug and patting his back. Tom looks at her teary eyed, “Thank you Jes.”

“Wait—no! You’re our baby, you can’t have a baby yet. Stop growing!” Perrie cries coming around the table to engulf you in her arms. This time she was actually crying, tears of joy streaming down her face.

“But Pez, I’m already growing.” You giggle, pulling away from her to lift you knitted sweater up to reveal your small baby bump. The girls gasp, while you and Tom stare proudly at your stomach. Jade and Leigh-Anne join Perrie to hover over your stomach. Jesy looks from over your shoulder, staring at the top of your stomach.

“Can we please touch it?” Leigh-Anne asks quietly, looking up at you and Tom for permission.

“Go ahead.” You assure them. Jesy squeezes your arms, resting her chin on your shoulder. Leigh-Anne, Perrie, and Jade’s hands delicately come into contact with your stretched skin, fascinated by your little bump. Jade pouts as she strokes your belly with her thumb, “Oh, you’re so precious.” She coos.

Perrie rests her palm against your belly, “How far along are you?” You look at Tom over your shoulder, who’s been watching the special moment unfold between you and the girls.

“Four months.” Tom answers, the grin on his face feeling permanent as he talked about his little bean.

“Four months?” Jesy shrieked whipping her head to look at you and Tom.

“Yup, we wanted to tell you guys as soon as we found out but we decided to keep it a little secret for as long as we can.” You explain. “But then my stomach began growing and it’d be obvious, so we decided to tell you guys now since it’s still early.”

“Does anyone else know?” Leigh-Anne asks, hand still resting on your belly.

“Our families know, along with his best mates. But you guys are part of the first few people who know about it.” You reply. Perrie hums softly, cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss onto it.

“You’re the first people I’ve told who aren’t my immediate family.” You laugh. The girls began tearing up again.

“I can’t believe you guys told us.” Jade wipes her eye with the pads of her fingers.

“Why wouldn’t I? You guys are important to me and I love you all so much! You all deserve to know about it before everyone else.” The girls “aww” at you and pull you into a group hug, one of their hands still resting on you belly.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant, oh my god.” Leigh-Anne expressed, her hand still on your bump.

“It’s hilarious how we were saying you were gonna be the first one to start a family. All of a sudden little missy over here gets knocked up.” Jesy points at Leigh-Anne before giving Tom the stink eye.

“Did they not teach you how to use protection in school?” She playfully teases Tom, back to her usual picking on him. “Or is your pull out game just that weak?” Perrie gasps, covering your belly with both her hands, “Jes! There’s a baby!”

Tom’s mouth drops, his face feigning shock, “You know, I really thought we were having a great moment here, Jes.”

Jesy scoffs, “Moment’s over—have you never heard of ‘Don’t be silly, protect your Willie’?” Everyone pauses before bursting out laughing at Jesy’s comment.

The night ended with the girls making plans of who would be the fun aunt and who would spoil Baby Holland the most. Jesy and Jade debated over being the fun aunt while Perrie and Leigh-Anne tried to outdo each other on who would spoil the baby with the most toys and clothes. Your belly was the main star of the night; the girls occasionally stroking your belly or pressing light little kisses onto it. As you both listened to the girls argue about who would be the baby’s favorite, you and Tom knew that your little baby would be in good hands with four amazing aunts to watch over them.

🦋tags:

*tags with a cross don’t work*

@waxingmoonwrites @slutforsebstan @starslazyandcosy @xkonpinkx @dummiesshort @gypsystuf @kielemarie @wroetospidey @thatgirlangelb @have-aheart @adayasgeorgia @xeniarocks @sarcasticallywitty15 @agustdowney

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #dad!tom holland #dad!tom Holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland drabble #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland headcanon #little mix #perrie edwards #jade thirlwall #jesy nelson #leigh anne pinnock

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sukifans · 4 years ago

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aahhh I’m so excited I love your writing!!! your sokka “help me” fic is one of my favs ever I seriously think about it at least twice a week. in a similar vein, would you be able to combine prompts 10 & 12 for sokka x fem!reader? thank you!!! :)

SOKKA + “can i try that new chapstick? i wanna have a taste” + “i hadn’t noticed but my sweet, funny, goofy best friend is kind of hot, especially since they’ve been on this fitness kick”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“nastiest skank bitches” Group Message

loml: ladies, i need a girls night

loml: desperately

babygorl: god i’m down, this semester blows

fugly slut <3: i’m in!! always here for a girls night 🥰

loml: y/n??

you: gals. pals. as much as i would love to...

fugly slut <3: ughhhhhhhhh

babygorl: you better not be blowing us off for sokka again istg

you: 😅

loml: TRAITOR BITCH

fugly slut <3: HOES BEFORE BROS

babygorl: WHORE

you: bruh.mp3

you: he’s coming by after the gym to help me with my physics homework!!! I NEED THE HELP PLS I PROMISE ILL BE THERE NEXT TIME

babygorl: lying is a sin y/n

babygorl: sinner

loml: if sokka’s gonna b there maybe she’ll be sinning in........ other ways...... ahaha

loml: fuckboy_emoji.jpg

fugly slut <3: when you gonna tap that fr

you: NEVER LITERALLY NO EW

you: HE’S MY BEST FRIEND

you: UNLIKE YOU RATS

fugly slut <3: he do b kinda yummy tho liiiike 👀

you: STOP

loml: yeah he’s hot sorry queen

you: HE’S NOT HOT

babygorl: i almost hate to admit it but...

babygorl: his biceps 🥴

fugly slut <3 emphasized “his biceps 🥴”

loml loved “his biceps 🥴”

you: hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!

fugly slut <3 disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

loml disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl: uh huh yeah sure

loml: yall hear sumn?

NEW MESSAGE from sokka :^)

“hey i’m omw up!”

you: whatever you guys suck

you: i gtg

fugly slut <3: AND YOU SWALLOW

babygorl: bye girly!! get that bestie dick!!

loml: save a car, ride an engineering major >:)

you: desgostang.jpg

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to you with a groan. Your friends really and truly could be such freaks about your relationship with Sokka—or lack thereof. They’d been especially adament ever since he started some stupid bet with Zuko about who could get the most “gains” by graduation, incited by Aang making the mistake of commenting on Zuko’s more pronounced muscle mass.

Idiots.

That’s what Sokka was. Your idiotic best friend, who was funny, and sweet, and intelligent. You loved him, of course, but not like that. And he was not hot.

Definitely not.

The pounding on your dorm door interrupted your musings before Sokka let himself in, dropping his gym bag on the floor and kicking off his slides. His hair was loose and still damp from his post-workout shower and he wore slim joggers with a loose muscle tee.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly when he spotted you sitting in your bed. “What’s up?”

“The usual.” You moved your legs out of the way so he could flop down onto your mattress. “How was the gym?”

Sokka groaned. “Cardio. I’m already sore.” He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, pulling his muscles taut.

Hm. He does kind of have nice biceps...

You shook yourself internally. Thoughts like these had been creeping out of your subconscious for weeks now, no thanks to your rabid friends.

“My leg’s been killing me, though,” he continued, rubbing his opposite foot across the skin that covered that metal pins and plates holding his bones together after a nasty break in high school. The leg often still gave him problems, ranging from the dull ache he could ignore on the day-to-day, to throbbing pain that left him limping.

You frowned, looking away from his arms to meet his eyes. “You should probably rest up before you hurt yourself,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows. “Gotta catch up to Zuko, y’know.”

“Why? You’re already taller than him.”

“So? I wanna be more yolked, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buncha dumbasses.”

Sokka quirked an eyebrow. “You want this dumbass to help with your physics homework or not?”

“Haha,” you chuckled nervously, “just kidding, buddy! I meant Zuko and Aang. You—definitely not a dumbass. Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shot you a smug look as he pushed up to sit cross-legged across from you on the bed. He held his hand out with a dramatic, world-weary sigh. “Alright, give it here.”

You opened your laptop to pull up the website that hosted your homework practice problems. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing a notebook and pen from your desk to work out the math as you handed over the computer. He paused before standing to retrieve his bag, plopping it on your desk chair so he could root through it and pull out his glasses case. You felt your cheeks warm a little when he set the frames on the bridge of his nose.

Fine—he was kinda cute. You could concede that without having to dig too deep into your somewhat jumbled feelings for your best friend.

But you would certainly not “tap that.”

Well...

No. You would not.

You watched his eyes flick over the screen as he tapped the pen against his chin, catching the cap between his teeth while he thought about the formulas he’d learned in a past semester. He nodded to himself and started scribbling out a diagram and the math to go with it. You found yourself a little mesmerized by the way he simply just knew what to do, confidently scratching away at the paper as easily as one might write the alphabet. Your eyes trailed from his long fingers and calloused hand sweeping over the page, up his toned arm (lingering on his bicep a little longer), and to his face. He chewed at the inside of his cheek in concentration, sometimes parting his lips to murmur the logic to himself.

For someone who often said a lot of stupid shit, he sure had a pretty mouth.

You considered what he might do if you snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Would he shove you away and leave? Awkwardly but kindly reject you? Or, would he kiss you back—throw the work out of the way and grab your face to coax you in deeper? Maybe push you back onto the bed and—

“Okay, so basically—”

Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip.

“—from the problem and draw it out like this to apply the formula, yeah?”

Sokka looked to you expectantly and you blinked at him as your face burned. “Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“C’mon, I know you hate physics but you gotta at least pay attention to me if you wanna pass,” he teased, shifting close enough that the sides of your bodies pressed together. Was it getting warmer in your room, or was it just your best friend?

He launched into the explanation again and you nodded along while internally willing the blood to leave your cheeks. Even as your thoughts ricocheted around inside your skull he managed to break it down in a way that somewhat made sense. He sat back and watched as you slowly worked through the next problem. You glanced up when you heard a soft pop to see him applying chapstick.

“Is that a new flavor?” you asked.

“Yeah, chocolate orange or something.” He held the tube out to you. “Wanna try?”

Fuck it.

Before your rationality could catch up you pressed a hand to his cheek to turn his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips only slotted together for a brief moment before you pulled back to stare wide-eyed at each other. You could feel the fire creeping from your cheeks down your neck, mirrored in the reddening of his tanned skin.

He blinked. You blinked.

The chapstick slipped from between his fingers. Rationality arrived late.

You bolted.

“Uh, see ya later!” you shouted as you threw the door open and rushed out of the room.

“Wait, (Y/N)—“

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of his desperate call. Even thought it was your dorm and you were barefoot you still raced down the hall, wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Damn that lanky bastard. You were booking it and he was already hot on your heels. You barreled into the door leading to the stairwell and almost made it down the first step when he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back. Despite your struggles, the arm hooked across your middle was unyielding until he pushed you into the corner and crowded you against the wall, hands caging you in from either side. Your heart was racing and you weren’t sure if it was because of your escape attempt or that he was close enough you could smell his body wash and deodorant. It was almost enough to make your head spin.

“Sokka, I-I don’t know why—I’m sorry, please, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“(Y/N),” he said firmly and your mouth snapped shut. “Why did you run away?”

“Uh, I—well, um...” You shrunk down against the wall and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Look—“ You paused and stared at him once you processed what he said. “What?”

He laughed, dropping one of his hands to brush against your cheek before threading into your hair to cup the base of your skull. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

With that he surged forwards and kissed you enthusiastically, making you gasp into his mouth. You balled your hands into the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady as you melted into him. His free hand pressed into your lower back to bring you in closer. His tongue slipped out to tease at your bottom lip and he chuckled when you had to quickly grab his shoulders as your knees almost buckled.

“Get that,” he murmured against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you gasped for air.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that.” You hummed happily when he kissed you again, his stubble scratching against your chin and under your palms when you cupped his face.

You both looked up when a stairwell door somewhere above you slammed open, followed by a group of jostling male voices. Sokka grinned when you glanced at him with wide eyes and shiny, swollen lips. You tried to hide behind him as the clamor bounded closer and closer. The group of guys rounded the next flight and gave shouts of recognition upon seeing you two standing against the wall.

“Sokka!”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, guys,” Sokka said, holding his hand up in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, is that (Y/N)?”

“Nice, dude!”

“Ah, yeah...” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you raised an eyebrow at his turned head. They all cheered and congratulated him, slapping his back as they passed and disappeared down the next set of stairs. When Sokka met your eyes again you cocked your head.

“Who were they?” you asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Sokka.”

“My reputation precedes me, what can I say?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

“Well—“ he suddenly became very interested in the underside of the stairs above you “—my reputation may or may not involve talking about you. A lot, apparently.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he interjected quickly, taking your hands in his. “It’s just—I dunno, I guess I think about you a lot, so...”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, okay, that sounded weird.” You laughed a little at his embarrassed floundering. “I just mean, like, things that remind me of you or, y’know, stories that involve you...” he trailed off, flushing at your amused smile. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Making fun of me!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around his neck.

“You’re still laughing at me,” he whined, lips turning into a frown. His hands slipped back down to your waist.

“You’re cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Without preamble, he ducked down and hoisted you over his shoulder as you shrieked in protest. “Sokka! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby; we have unfinished business to attend to.” He said as he marched you back in the direction of your room.

“You’re gonna finish my physics homework?”

“Nope.”

Oh.

A/N: 2k words bc, again, i have no self control. thank you for the request!

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch @nomin-rights @siriuslyslyslytherin @starryncn

SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @zvkta @sher-lockedmarvel @grandmascottlang @captainshazamerica @yuesallura

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

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h0rnyshakespeare · 3 years ago

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could you do a fantasy au with bakugou as a kitsune? you’ve just recently moved into a cottage in the woods to get away from your previous life, when you stubble across baku in a trap surrounded by hunters! you of course aren’t going to let some assholes hurt an innocent creature, so you devise a plan to get him free. you draw the hunter’s attention away from the caged baku, causing them to run off. you then get to baku, and are able to free him. though a slight problem, the hunters are coming back, and they see you messing with their ‘find.’ while you’re frozen in place, baku literally picks you up, and jumps into the trees, evading gunshots. he keeps you there until the hunters go away.

after all this drama, you start hanging out with the kitsune more and more. you two get closer as time goes on, and bakugou becomes more and more infatuated and protective of you. he’s touchier, softer, and overall more gentle with you. he even lets you touch his ears and tail. everything is all well and good when oh no, the hunters are back, and they’re out for revenge. while you’re at the cottage, they ransack your home, chasing you out into the woods. you’re sprinting, calling for bakugou as the hunters are gaining. just then, none other than the fox himself jumps in and beats the absolute shit outta the hunters. he then turns to you, worry as well as rage in his eyes. he sees they’ve hurt you, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for what he’s about to do. “Stay with me.” he pleads. “you don’t have a safe home anymore, and even if you did, i can’t promise your safety. i NEED you to be safe, okay. stay with me as my mate. i’ll hunt for you. i’ll protect you. anything, and you’ve got it.” you’re stunned. eyes wide, you ask him why. why does he care so much? nobody else ever did, so why does he, as powerful and as beautiful as he is. the answer isn’t as hard as you would think “it’s because i fucking love you...”

OKAY this is definitely long and more of a vent than anything but i think it’s so cute! just imagine cuddling with him as soft and as cute as he would be, hanging over you like a jungle cat. very nice, very nice indeed

kitsune!Bakugou x gn!reader (I couldn't think of a title, sorry)

Genre: Fantasy

Warnings: Swearing caz Bakugou, brief mentions of gunshots (that’s it I think?? But if there’s anything I missed please let me know)

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Tysm for requesting, this was such a cute idea! I’m sorry this took some time, exams are coming so my writing’s a little slow haha. I wrote this to be gn!reader but if anywhere implies otherwise please let me know :) And to everyone else who requested, I’m working on them!

Y/N: Your name

L/N: Last name

You had recently moved into a little cottage in the woods, not too far away from the main city, but enough to be away from the busy, commercial life you once lived. Others might disagree, but you felt more at peace among nature, like you were truly satisfied. You had never enjoyed living among many people, so you were excited to start your new life, out here in the woods. As you walked back to your cottage after taking a walk to familiarize yourself with your new surroundings, you heard a few voices up ahead. You groaned, not wanting to socialize with anyone, but before you could turn to take a different route to avoid whoever was there, you overheard one of the voices say, “We’re gonna get a fine amount of money for this creature’s fur, ya hear me? So make sure the trap is secure.” A couple of other voices mumbled in agreement. You frowned. Although you could not really make out what animal they had caught, you did know that whatever they were doing, it sounded illegal. You sighed. You did not want to confront anyone, but you made your way towards the voices. You saw three men surrounding a cage, holding… guns? “What have I gotten myself into?” you internally groaned, but it was too late to turn back now. “Um, excuse me?” you called out hesitantly. They turned at the sound of your voice, looking displeased. You smiled nervously. “Hi, um, it’s actually illegal to hunt in this area…” you trailed off, seeing their annoyance. “How would you know, you little punk? Go braid daisy crowns or whatever you do in this dump,” one of them sneered at you. You were slowly growing irritated, but you kept the smile on your face, determining to help whatever animal they had imprisoned. “Ok, well, I was going to let you know that if you walk a few miles from here, there is a hunting area. You guys aren’t the first hunters I’ve seen around here,” you lied through your teeth, trying to distract them to give you enough time to release the trapped creature. “If you check it out, I’ll forget I even saw you guys here, and no one will know that y’all were hunting illegally, ok? Plus, I’ve seen a lot of finer animals in that area.” “Maybe we should listen to her, boss,” one of the hunters said to the one who had spoken to you first. “I mean, it is just a fox, and if we’re caught…” he whispered the rest of his sentence to their leader, who in turn frowned. “Fuck, whatever. How far is the hunting area, kid?” he asked, the question directed to you. “Oh, um, about… 10 miles from here? In that direction,” you said, pointing. “You better not be lying to us,” the hunter glared at you, making you gulp. You tried to act nonchalant until they were out of sight, then immediately rushed to the trap. You gasped when you saw a beautiful fox with… tan, almost golden fur. You had never even heard of foxes that colour. The hunters were idiotic to listen to you and leave this amazing creature, but you were glad they did. The fox made a low, growling noise, snapping you out of your trance. “Ah, right, I’m sorry, I’ll let you out now, don’t worry,” you said, suddenly feeling stupid that you were conversing with an animal. You quickly set your attention onto setting it free. The trap looked complicated to deactivate, but you realized it was actually quite simple, and you managed to free the fox in no time. “There you go,” you smiled, “You’re free now.” Surprisingly, the fox lingered, studying you with beautiful carmine eyes. First tan fur, now red eyes? “You’re like something outta a fairy tale, huh? So pretty,” you said softly, gazing at it at wonder, when you heard distant voices shouting.

Crap. The hunters.

“You really thought you could fool us! There were no animals in that area!” “Ahaha fuck, I’m in trouble,” you murmured, thinking of a way to escape, when you remembered the fox was still here! “Hey uh, you really should get outta here-” you said, turning to find not a fox, but a man with fox ears and a- no wait, nine tails. Your eyes widened, freezing as you tried to process what just happened.

“Oi, dumbass, if you’re not gonna run they’re gonna get you, you know.”

“I- uhhh… well this is a weird dream,” you chuckled nervously. “Tch, idiot,” was all he said before picking you up bridal-style and running faster than the hunters could catch up. You felt something whizz past your ear. “HOLY FU- THEY’RE SHOOTING AT US!” you yelled, grabbing at the man’s collar. “Thanks for stating the obvious, dumbass!” he yelled back. “Now would you shut up so I can focus on not dying?” You quickly turned silent after that statement. Without warning the… man? fox? man fox?? suddenly took a huge leap into the trees, landing on a branch that somehow held his weight. You yelped, then quickly covered your mouth in order to keep quiet as you saw the hunters running past from underneath. “They’re gone now,” you heard the man speak as he set you down on the branch. The tree you both were on was sturdy, giving you a secure foothold. You turned to face him. “Uh, thanks for saving me back there, but I’m pretty sure you were a fox when I first saw you…?” “Tch. Humans really have gotten dumber over the past few years haven’t they. I’m a kitsune. Ya know what that is?” Your eyes widened. “A-a kitsune as in the ones in the fairy tales? The foxes who can shapeshift to humans, and have many tails…” you trailed off, feeling stupid that you had not noticed earlier. The kitsune smirked in response. “Yeah, and I have nine, meaning I’m the most powerful. You’re lucky I was there to save you.” “You saved me? Who was trapped in a cage, huh? If anything, you should be thanking me,” you huffed, annoyed. Who did he think he was? He said nothing, simply gazing at you with interest written all over the flaming pools of scarlet that were his eyes. You tried not to feel intimidated by them, not knowing what powers this creature possessed. You could not deny that he was beautiful as a human, alluring even, with blonde hair similar to his fox fur, and his body looked as if it were sculpted by gods. You gulped, forcing yourself to stop staring at all the scars scattering his bare chest. He smirked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking of, causing your face to heat up. “Where do you live, dumbass? I’m sure you can’t climb down trees.” You rolled your eyes, embarrassed that he was right. “Not far from here, I’ll manage.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” was all he said before he lifted you in his arms again, leaping to the ground and taking you home in no time. “I didn’t even give you directions,” you said, confused. He sighed. “I could smell your scent from here. Why do you live in the middle of the forest?” “Caz I want to??” you said. “That’s weird,” he responded. “Don’t you live here too though?” you retorted. You saw a smirk flicker briefly on his face before being replaced again with his bored expression. “I’ll see you around then, dumbass.” He said, turning to leave. “Wait!” you called out, immediately regretting it. Why’d I do that? But there was no time to question your actions as he looked at you, eyebrow raised. “Uh, I-I just wanted to know your name,” you said a little breathlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou,” he said, never breaking eye contact. “Bakugou, huh? Well, I’m Y/N L/N,” you replied. Bakugou shrugged. “I’ll be leaving then dumbass.” You huffed. “I literally just told you my name!” “And?” was all he said, before vanishing through the foliage of trees. You exhaled slowly, feeling a little disoriented. You had so many questions but decided not to think too much of the day’s events, instead opting for relaxing in your new home.

The next day, you decided to just hang out at home, yet you could not get the kitsune out of your mind, making you frustrated. “Ah, fuck it,” you mumbled, before heading out. You were not sure where you were going, but you walked in the same direction you did yesterday. “What are you doing this you idiot? What if the hunters find you again?” you thought, yet your body did not listen, continuing to walk in the same path. You did not run into anyone on the way. Unfortunately, that included Bakugou. You decided to just sit down under a tree and read the book you had brought with you. You had been peacefully reading for a while, the sounds of the forest soothing to you ears.

“Well fancy seeing you here.” You whipped your head at the sound of his voice. You saw the fox with tan fur you rescued yesterday. “Bakugou?” He transformed into his human form, grinning as he did so. “So, what’re you doing here, dumbass? Missed me?” You rolled your eyes. “You wish. I came here to relax for a bit.” “Whatever you say, dumbass. What’re you reading?” You showed him your book, causing him to snort. “What?” you asked, slightly irritated. What was his deal? “Your taste is so bland, I’m not surprised.” “Fuck off,” you responded. “As if you’ve ever even touched a book before.” “I have,” Bakugou said, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t peg you as the type to read,” you said, getting back to your book. “Is that all modern-day kitsunes do these days?” Bakugou shrugged. “I’ve never met any others here.” You looked back at him, surprised. “So… you’re alone?” “Tch. I just prefer to be by myself.” You nodded. “Me too.” “Pfft, you? You look like someone who would love being around people, with how much you talk and all.” You glared at him. “And this is exactly why I like being on my own.” He raised his arms. “I guess I’ll leave then. Since you seem to really hate company, right dumbass?” “My name is not dumbass, it’s Y/N. Why’re you so rude?” you hissed. You were met with silence when you realized he had left. You could not believe you actually came out all this way just to talk to him, only for him to randomly leave mid-conversation. You huffed, shifting your position to get more comfortable. “I’m still here you know.” You jumped, hearing his voice from above you. “What the hell?” He snorted in amusement. “You really think you could get rid of me that easily, dumbass?” You rolled your eyes, but inside you felt secretly happy that he had stayed, and you hated it. “You’re so annoying,” you retorted, turning a page in your book, yet somehow not really seeing the words. It was quiet for a while, before Bakugou jumped back down to the ground, sitting next to you. “Read that for me,” he said in a tone unlike his usual one. “What?” “You seem to like this trash so much, so read it,” he said, making himself comfortable. You sighed. “Fine.”

And so began the afternoons you would spend with him. Every day, you would meet him under the same tree and read. Sometimes he would fall asleep next to you, exposing a more soft and vulnerable side of him, contrasting to his normally brash and rough personality. It was pretty sweet, and over time, your feelings for him only grew. You were not sure, but you felt that he too had become softer and gentler around you as time went on. He even let you pet his ears, blushing whenever you did so, trying to hide his flusteredness behind his colourful words. He even went as far as falling asleep on your lap in wolf-form, making you happy he could trust you with the more vulnerable side of him.

You were at home, about to leave to meet Bakugou, when you heard some commotion outside. You were about to check when you heard the door break open. “Find them!” you heard a loud voice say. Your blood ran cold. The hunters? Why were they so set on revenge? You heard something break as they stormed through your house. Before you could grab something to defend yourself, one of them burst into your room, causing you to freeze. “There you fucking are,” he said moving towards you, blocking the exit. Thinking fast, you opened the window next to you and jumped out. Thankfully, it was close to the ground, so you easily picked yourself up and you ran, not daring to look back, but you heard them shouting and running after you. You sprinted down the familiar path, calling for Bakugou as you did. “Goddammit, where are you Bakugou?” you yelled as the hunters gained on you, when-

“The HELL you fuckers think you’re doing, HAH?”

You had never felt so relieved to hear his voice. “Bakugou!” “Stay behind me,” was all he said before going absolutely feral. He beat them up in no time, then watched as they ran away in terror. When he made sure they were gone, he turned to you, anger dissipating, his eyes filled with worry. “You ok?” You nodded weakly, then raised your arm, showing him the wound you had gotten when one of the hunters had shot at you. “It’s not bad, don’t worry. The bullet didn’t hit me, just grazed my skin.” “Shit,” Bakugou cursed as he took your arm in his hand, examining it. “That’s definitely more than a fucking graze.” “It’ll heal, I’m good at first aid,” you said. Bakugou looked at you, incredulous. “Dumbass, this needs more than first aid, are you really that stupid? Don’t move,” he said as his hands began to glow. He positioned them above your wound, using his power to heal you. “Thanks, Bakugou,” you said when he was done. “Really, I appreciate everything.” “Katsuki,” he said, not looking at you. “Huh?” you said, confused. “Call me Katsuki, dumbass.” A playful smile made its way on your lips. “Sure, when you call me Y/N.” He chuckled, then looked at you with a serious gaze. “I want you to stay with me.” You looked at him, dumbfounded. “W-What? What do you mean?” “Your home isn’t safe anymore. Those hunters could come back anytime, I went easy on them. I need you to be safe, Y/N, I-” he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “What would’ve happened to you if I wasn’t there? Just… please, become my mate Y/N. I’ll do anything for you, I’ll hunt for you, protect you, anything you want.” You were stunned, trying to process what he had just asked. “Y-You want me to be your… your mate? Why? And why would someone like you care so much about someone like me when no one really ever has?” He blushed, looking away to glare at the grass. “Fuck, I don’t know, maybe it’s caz I fucking love you, dumbass.”

#kitsune!bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #anime #bnha oneshots #mha oneshots #mha #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha fics #mha fics #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha fantasy au

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angie-likes-to-art · 4 years ago

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Girl’s Night Out

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky x Reader Summary: What was supposed to girls night to support Pietro’s band becomes sidetracked when Natasha failed to mention the new bartender Clint hired Word Count: 1194 Warnings: Some sexual language, mentions of alcohol A/N: I really meant this to just be a bucky fic but i got carried away with steve, maybe him and the reader have a past together i dont knowwww, i quickly proofread this, so im sorry if there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know

Masterlist

“Can you guys hurry up?” Wanda shouts from half a block in front of you and Natasha, “Pietro’s band is starting soon, I promised I’d be there for his first gig.” She stops and huffs like a child when Nat chuckles.

“Clint said they don’t start until nine, it's not even 8:45 yet” Nat points out rolling her eyes sarcastically.

“But I wanna get there early, he’s probably super nervous.” She admits, playing with a strand of her hair. Nat and you share a look and both let out another laugh.

“Hun, I think you're the nervous one, he's been pumped for this ever since Clint suggested booking a band,” You put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, “Plus we’re three blocks away.” You added, pointing ahead the three of you to the bright neon sign spelling ‘Barton’s’ in cursive, that you were all too familiar with. You’d been going there every Friday since college when you finally convinced Wanda to come out one night with you, it's where you met Nat, who was working as a bartender at the time while her boyfriend and owner of the bar was working on hiring more staff. It's where you found your first real college boyfriend, who ended up cheating and breaking your heart, but that's not the point. And where you met Steve and Sam, you'd met them through Clint who was playfully yelling at them to stop flirting with Nat. Both you and Wanda quickly joined the friend group and were nearly attached to the hip with Nat from that point on.

Clint intentionally booked Pietro’s band on a slower night, as a trial run, to see if the regulars enjoyed them and everything went smoothly, Pietro wasn't completely on board with this idea. He wanted his first gig to be on a busy night, with everyone dancing and yelling for his band, but eventually gave in and accepted the offer he got. The bar was fairly popular, a few dozen regulars milling about grabbing drinks, sitting at booths, or watching the band set up. Wanda immediately ran to her twin brother, congratulating him and his band mates with a bright smile on her face. Nat and you walked over to the bar to get your first drinks of the evening, expecting to see Clint cleaning a glass or making a complicated drink, like usual. Instead, behind the bar, stood a man you'd never seen before, chatting happily to Steve and Sam who were sitting on the stools in front of him. He wore a tight black t-shirt his biceps were one flex away from busting out of and a smirk that would make your panties drop if he asked nicely.

“Ow, what the hell, Y/N?” Nat yelped when your elbow collided with her rips.

“Why didn't you tell me Clint hired a hot new bartender?” You questioned through clenched teeth, tilting your head towards him.

“Oh, Bucky?” she smirked as well, “He’s an old friend of Steve's.” She explained, casually walking to the staff room, you assumed Clint was in. Leaving you abandoned in the middle of the bar, before you have the chance to turn and join Wanda, you hear a familiar deep voice call you over.

“Y/N! Hey, have you met Buck yet?” Steve shouted over the sound of Pietro’s band doing a sound check, he offered you a friendly smile you couldn't help but return as you strided over. You glance behind him to see the hot bartender now giving you a smirk and watching you move, you feel a blush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks.

“Hey Stevie, Sammy!” Giving them both hugs avoiding the eyeline of the man behind the bar, Steve looked at you expectantly, “Oh, uh, no, I haven’t yet.” You answered, still keeping your eyes on Steve.

“Great! Then Y/N meet Bucky,” He looked so happy to introduce his friend to each other that you couldn't help but loosen up, “Bucky meet Y/N” He looked in between you both, “She's friends with Tasha and Wanda,” He pointed to Wanda who was still watching her brother happily.

“Hey,” You lied earlier, he didn't need to ask nicely to make your panties drop, all you needed was that one word. He leaned over the bar to get a closer look at you and to offer his right hand. You were too caught up in his ocean blue eyes to notice, you could stare into them all day and still find new shades. Steve’s hand on your lower back knocked you out of your trace, you looked at him and back to Bucky, then down to his hand. You quickly let out a breathy apology, then pressed your hand into his, his entirely engulfing your smaller one. He gave your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back and standing up straight. "Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just a beer,” you squeaked, he let out a chuckle before stepping away, you clenched your eyes and turned to your friends, embarrassed they had to witness that.

“God, I haven't seen you like that since you talked to that college guy, like five years ago.” Sam laughs before taking a swig of his beer.

“Oh fuck off Sam, do I have to remind you how you talk to Nat when you get too drunk to remember she dating Clint?” You threaten, Sam rolls his eyes dramatically. You press your index fingers together and put on a baby voice, “Pwease Natasha, will you go on a date wiff me?”

“I don't do that,” he defends, swatting your hands apart as you giggle and Steve pretends not to be entertained. Bucky returns with your beer and some refills for the guys. You try to put out of your mind how ridiculously hot he his, with his soft waves pushed up and away from his face, you wonder what it'd feel like to run your hands through it and down his cheekbones to his dark stubble. You hear Steve telling a story about when they were kids but you couldn't make yourself listen, usually you would drop everything to pay attention to Steve, you’d kill to see him smile just one time but Bucky had you in a daze. Until you felt Steve’s hand on you again, you looked into his eyes, his have more green than Bucky’s, you've gotten lost in these ones too.

“Wands calling for you,” It comes out hardly above a whisper, raspy like the alcohol is starting to take effect, you nod at his words but make no effort to move away.

“Y/N!” You hear Wanda shout from across the room this time, you look over to see her bouncing excitedly next to the makeshift stage for the band, she waves you over. You see Nat and Clint are already over there waiting for the first song, you grab your beer from the bar top and head over, pushing away the thoughts of Bucky, Steve, and even Same making fun of you, so you can have a fun night with your girls. Just like you intended to.

#I would like to make a formal apology for making this #bartender!bucky #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barns x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #modern au #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #slight steve x reader

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cyoc49 · 4 years ago

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HIMBO Magazine: The New Hire

23 year-old Barry Allen looked across the street at the office building of HIMBO, a lifestyle & fashion magazine targeted at gay men, and the site of his job interview. After graduating last May, Barry has tried for months to find a communications job with no luck, until he saw HIMBO’s advertisement for an entry-level social media position. The pay was unbelievably good, and they reached out to him about applying which made the whole situation seem very promising. He was a little uncomfortable about the idea of working at a gay magazine. I don’t have any issue with gay people, Barry thought, I just don’t understand a lot of the culture and I’m not really trying to. Still, the job was too good to pass up without at least interviewing.

Barry walked into the lobby of the building and was directed on how to reach the HIMBO’s offices. Stepping into the elevator, Barry thought about how sharply dressed everyone in the building was. It made him feel a little unprofessional, in his blazer, checkered shirt, and jeans. But the email had told him to dress “Appropriately for his position,” so he dressed the way he knew modern social media teams did.

As the elevator opened, Barry was greeted by the bright offices of HIMBO. The personnel working there (all male, he noticed) were dressed in a mixture of ridiculously eccentric business wear, speedos and harnesses, club outfits, other other bizarre fashions. “I’m guessing those are models?” Barry wondered, before walking over to a desk attended by a swishy receptionist.

The twinkish secretary looked up at Barry, and his eyes widened in excitement. “You must be the new applicant!” He exclaimed, jumping up out of his seat. “Oh, you’re perfect! He always knows the right people to pick. Well knock on wood, but I’m excited to work with you!” Then in a swift motion, the man darted around the desk and grabbed Barry by the hand. “Here, I can take you to him! He’s been waiting for you. I’m James, by the way! I work the desk!” And with that, Barry found himself being dragged along through the HIMBO offices.

“Uh, I have a question. Who is ‘he’?” Barry called along as he tried to keep pace with the fast-paced James.

“Christian Le Maître, the Editor in Chief! He’s brilliant. He does all the interviews and hiring himself. He’s the one who reached out to you.”

Wow, he picked me out himself, Barry thought, I must really be promising.

Barry spoke up “That’s pretty cool, to have a boss that cares that much.”

James nodded enthusiastically “Oh yes, he cares for us all so much! We’re all his boys here.”

Looking past the odd use of “boys”, Barry continued “I’m, uh, applying for a social media position.”

“Oh okay, interesting,” James said with less enthusiasm than usual, “He’ll sometimes try to figure out a different position for you during the interview. Just go along with what he says. I promise he has your best interests at heart.”

Before Barry could ask what that meant, James came to a sudden stop in front of a large heavy door. He knocked on it several times, before a deep muffled voice called out “Send him in” from behind the door.

James turned around, grinning ear to ear “Okay, best of luck! Remember: you’re gonna fit in here.” With that, he pranced back down the hallway, leaving Barry alone in front of the door.

He took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing,” he thought, and opened the door.

Walking into the office, Barry looked behind the desk and saw one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen.

His face was rugged and handsome, with insatiably curious eyes, perfect white teeth, and a beard that was just the right amount of stubble. His hair was parted with gel into a professional, clean, and gorgeous haircut. His toned muscles perfectly filled out his expensive looking business clothes: a light blue silk dress shirt, grey pinstripe pants, suspenders hung over his shoulders and pressed out by his chest, gorgeous-smelling black leather dress shoes, and a sterling silver watch. He was an absolute alpha male, so perfectly handsome and successful that Barry couldn’t help but feel awe, jealousy, and a hint of... lust?

The man looked at Barry and smiled a perfect smile. “Barry, is it? I’m Christian La Maître, but everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.” The man stood up, revealing his daunting 6’4 frame, and extended a muscular hand to Barry

Jesus, his voice is intoxicating, Barry swooned. It was so smoothly deep and inviting. With just the few words Barry already felt like he could listen to the man for hours. He reached out and took hold of Mr. M’s hand for an extremely firm handshake. As their hand touched, Barry felt a jolt, and found himself unable to take his eyes off the powerful man before him. And more importantly, he had no desire to move his eyes away.

Mr. M sat back down again. “So Barry, tell me about yourself. College graduate?”

“Uh, yes. Digital Communications maj-“

“Have you ever read HIMBO before?” Mr. M cut Barry off.

“No, sir” Barry said, neither objecting to being interrupted, nor noticing the “sir” he just said.

“Are you gay?” Mr. M examined Barry’s body up and down, never making eye contact.

“No, sir. I’m straight.” He paused “Is that okay?”

Mr. M let out a hearty laugh, and Barry found himself laughing along with the man too. It just felt right. This brilliant, perfect businessman that Barry was lucky enough to be in the presence of, anything he did had to be right.

“Ahhh, Barry. You’re a fun kid. Now unfortunately, that social media position was filled earlier this morning by another applicant. But I would be a fool not to bring you into the HIMBO team, Barry!” This filled Barry with joy. The approval of Mr. M felt so good.

“Now if I think about it...” Mr. M paused for a few moments, giving Barry another thorough looking over, “I think we have an opening in the accounting department.”

“Yes! I accept!” Barry shouted out. He didn’t even care that it was a totally different position than he had come here for, nor did he care that he had zero accounting experience. If Mr. M said he would be a good accountant, then Barry had to be the best accountant for his boss.

The man chuckled again. “There’s just a little on boarding we’d have to do to get you ready for the position. Beginning with dress code, for starters.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes, sir?” Barry asked eagerly. He would do anything for this man, who was offering him a coveted job at HIMBO magazine. Barry would change anything about himself.

“Well, you just dress so... cool. I mean look at that outfit! You are a hip young man who is ready for a good night out. And I love that for you, but I think a good accountant would dress a bit... sharper.”

The “sharper” bounced around in Barry’s head. Visions of men in suits and ties flooded his mind. He began to feel attracted to the idea of being a finely dressed man. In fact, he couldn’t imagine ever dressing down, not even in his free time. As Barry listened to Mr. M’s words, his plaid shirt rippled into a crisp white dress shirt. It tucked itself into his jeans.

“A good smart accountant would look his best at all times.”

Barry’s jeans turned into tight fitting grey dress pants, and a brown leather belt cinched itself firmly around his waist. His casual wool blazer morphed into a clean grey suit jacket matching his pants. Underneath, a gray sweater materialized and hugged itself to Barry’s slimming build.

“A good, clean-cut accountant.”

Barry felt his feet shift as his shoes changed into well-polished brown leather dress shoes, with wing tips. His socked changed to clean white socks, and inside his pants he felt briefs take form around his shrinking manhood.

“A good, nerdy accountant.”

A red bow tie wrapped itself around Barry’s neck and tied itself into a perfect knot. Large round glasses popped up on Barry’s face, which he knew he needed to wear every day. Barry’s hair ruffled as if wind was blowing through it, before settling in a clean side part, well-combed and maintained.

Barry stood before the incredibly powerful man before him looking totally different. Just 10 minutes ago Barry had dressed like any college graduate, but now looked as if he wore a suit every day of the week. But as for Barry himself, he had never felt better. As his clothes changed, Barry’s thoughts realized how right this felt. Barry now perfectly remembered his 2 hour morning dress routine. He knew exactly how much pomade to use to achieve the perfect side part, he remembered tying bow ties for six years now. His home wardrobe, all of it, had been replaced with suits, sweaters, shirts, dress shoes, and bow ties of every material, pattern, and color imagineable. This was the way he had dressed ever since he got to college and felt he could express himself truly. The truth was Barry loved the feel of a suit. The cleanness and dignity were an intoxicating feeling, and he couldn’t imagine himself in anything else.

Mr. M smiled a big smile. “There we go, an absolute perfect fit for our accountant opening. Welcome to the HIMBO team, Barry. Or should I say Bartholomew.”

That was right. Bartholomew Pippin, and he couldn’t be happier. He was a timid, nerdy kind of guy, sure, but he felt on top of the world. Bartholomew was an avid HIMBO reader for its good guides on men’s formalwear (and also so he could jerk off to the photos of shirtless guys), so to work at the magazine he loved, doing the job he loved (accounting) was a dream come true.

Mr. M stood up and walked over to Bartholomew, getting extremely close to him. “There’s just one last step in the hiring process...”

Barty shook a bit as he looked up at the domineering man before him. Mr. M was a tall man to begin with, but at his new height Bartholomew was 5’9, and the taller man encompassed him.

“I seal all my contracts... with a kiss.”

Barry’s knees quivered. He had realized he was gay at a young age, but aside from a few “almosts” in college, he had never gone farther than holding hands. Bartholomew had always reasoned that he would meet the right one eventually... and looking up at this man, Barty knew he had found it. Mr. M was all Barty would ever need. This man would control his work life and his sex life, dictating when Barty could pleasure himself, when he could come, and when he got the ultimate privilege of spending the night with Mr. M.

Bartholomew wrinkled his note and nodded eagerly “Of course, sir. I would be honored to kiss you.

As Barty stood on his tip toes to kiss his new boss - god, his lips were smooth and perfect - Barty felt all his changes lock into place. This is who he was. Bartholomew Pippin, mild-mannered accountant of HIMBO magazine, and one of Christian La Maître’s very good boys.

The two parted, and Mr. M gave Bartholomew another killer smile. “Bartholomew, I can already tell you’re gonna fit in here perfectly. And as a signing bonus, how about you stop by my place tonight. 7 PM sharp.”

“Oh thank you so much, Mr. M! I’ll be there at 6:45, I promise.”

“That’s a good boy, Barty. Now get settled in, your desk is at the end of the hall.” He gave Barty a spank on his bubble butt, and sent him on his way, to his new job and new life.

#gaytf #preppy #gay #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #nerd #suittf #bowtie #the flash #barry allen #the flash tf #grant gustin

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raviotherabbit · 3 years ago

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Reunion Tour - Chapter 1

note: this is an extended version of these two posts, with an ending added on.

[first] - [next] read it on ao3!

Chapter 1: Familiar Circumstances Wild and Warriors meet each other again.

- - -

There were quite a few things Wild wanted to do this weekend. Like maybe sleep in for a bit, maybe cooking a special breakfast. They’d even been planning on visiting little Zelly, a promise that her mother was sure to scold them for not keeping.

Instead, they were rudely awoken by a rough collision with the dirt, and they quickly realized they weren’t in their soft waterbed in Zora’s Domain anymore. Blearily blinking their eyes open, Wild feels like they’ve been hit by Ruta’s Cryonis again.

They’re in the castle courtyard of Warriors’ time. Which, as they seem to recall, is tens of thousands of years removed from their own era.

“Oh great,” Wild scowls as the golden light fades behind them. Ten years since their tearful goodbyes with their fellow heroes, and all of a sudden, Hylia’s playing games again.

Wild pushes themself off the ground, dusting whatever they can off with their one arm. It’s only then, when several halberds are pointed right at their face, that they realize they have an audience.

“Stop right there!” one of the soldiers, presumably a higher ranking officer, shouts. “Put your hands in the air!”

Wild frowns, but some part of their mind still remembers Warriors’ lectures to respect authority in his era. It was always so annoying, especially since he was the only one who cared so much about how they were perceived by the guards, but the anger in his eyes after Wild’s third infraction for trespassing (it’s not like those people were USING their roofs!) was enough to convince them to behave. So, after a moment of hesitation, they raise their arm above their head.

“Both hands!” The guard juts his halberd closer to Wild’s face.

“This is all I’ve got, man.”

A lower ranking guard lifts the side of Wild’s poncho. “They’re telling the truth, sir,” they announce, gesturing to their missing right arm.

“W-well!” the officer stammers, and Wild can’t help but smirk. “Take them to a cell! Trespassing on castle grounds is no laughing matter!”

Wild rolls their eyes as one of the soldiers forcefully grabs their left arm. “You’re gonna regret this, you know.”

“Quiet you!” the senior officer snaps at them. “I’ll have no disrespect from magicians who infiltrate our defenses against the crown!”

“Fine,” Wild scoffs. “Hey, while you’re processing my intake paperwork or whatever, could you tell my brother where I am? He’ll be sooooo worried about me.”

The senior officer’s eye twitches. One of the lower ranking guards whispers, “It is protocol to inform citizens of incarcerated family members.”

“Alright! Alright!” the senior officer throws his hands up in frustration. “Just tell me and get out of here!”

“He’s the hero, Link. Ever heard of him?” Wild forces down a laugh as the officer’s face turns red. “Tell him Wild’s in prison again, and it’s not their fault this time!”

“Take them away!” the senior officer points the guard holding them towards the dungeon. “Now!”

And even though they’re being dragged into the dreaded dungeons of Hyrule Castle, Wild can’t help but laugh the entire time.

- - -

“You’re going to be in big trouble,” Wild lightly scratches at the rusty bars of their jail cell. They’re sitting on the nasty dungeon floor, legs crossed. “Seriously, it’s not too late to let me go.”

The guard stationed outside their cell sighs. “I’m not in charge of that.”

Wild huffs, pouting to themself. A little recognition wouldn’t hurt, would it? They were here all the time a decade ago! And even then, everyone knew they were with Wars. These kinds of theatrics and blunders are just rude!

“So, is Commander Link really your brother?”

Wild’s ear twitches when the guard speaks up. “Commander, huh? Wars got a promotion?”

“Uh, I-” the guard stammers. “I don’t-”

“Yeah, he’s pretty much my brother,” Wild answers. “It’s been a bit since I was in town, though.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

The shout rings through the dungeons, a shrill entitlement that Wild would know anywhere.

Wild clicks their tongue. “That’d be him,” they point their thumb towards the entrance to the dungeon. “You know, it’s been nice hanging out with you.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m going to die.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Wild promises, standing up and gripping onto one of the bars just as Warriors rounds the corner, flanked by the senior officer, who now looks flustered.

And that’s Wild’s confirmation that it’s been some time for their brother, as well. He’s sporting some well-manicured stubble, obviously, because everything about Wars is well-manicured. His hair is longer, tied back in a ponytail that reminds Wild of themself. Of course, they didn’t have a chance to do their hair before landing in the past, so it’s all loose and tangled.

“Wild?!” Warriors shouts, mostly in shock. “You’re really here?!”

“Oh thank goodness!” Wild feels like they could cry. “Wars get me out of here!”

“What are you doing here?” Wars ruffles their hair through the bars, a warm smile on both of their faces. “I thought we agreed, no more trespassing.”

“It’s not my fault, it was the portals!” Wild explains quickly. “They wouldn’t listen to me. I just woke up here!”

Hearing Wild’s poor circumstances, Wars snaps back towards the senior officer. “You ARRESTED my brother!”

“Your one-armed brother!” Wild pipes up from behind him.

“My ONE-ARMED- wait,” Warriors turns back to Wild, his tone suddenly soft as he looks at them with concern. “You lost your arm?”

Wild stares at Warriors blankly. “Don’t tell Twilight.”

“I’m not-!” Wars sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How would I even tell him?”

Wild simply shrugs.

“We’re talking about this later,” Warriors asserts, before turning to address the officer once again. His glare is cold, and his fury is burning. “I can’t BELIEVE that you saw a clearly disoriented individual in your courtyard and decided to ARREST THEM, of all things! Who is your superior, I’ll have to inform him-!”

Wild leans over to the guard, who’s standing frozen with fear next to the cell. “I told you,” they whisper.

- - -

“I’m hungry,” Wild whines, tugging at Warriors’ sleeve. “Can we get breakfast somewhere? I didn’t get to eat before I got arrested.”

Wars, in turn, shoots them a look of annoyance. He shrugs them off, continuing down the street. “You aren’t even the slightest bit concerned that the portals are opening again?”

“Please Wars I’m starving,” Wild begs. “I got pulled out of bed.”

Warriors sighs. “Fine. If you’re so insistent on breakfast, you can have free reign of my kitchen-” A sly smile creeps onto his face. “It’s been a while since I’ve had your cooking.”

“Oh, Sir Link, how generous of you, making your guest work!” Wild elbows him with their one good arm. “You see your dear sweet baby brother again after all this time-”

“You’re almost thirty, for Hylia’s sake!”

“Your BABY BROTHER,” Wild continues, “And all you can think about is what they can do for you.”

Suddenly and swiftly, Warriors pulls Wild into a headlock. “Why is it that every hero I meet is such a brat, huh?” he wonders aloud. “First the old man, then the sailor, and now you?”

“Don’t count yourself out, Commander,” Wild retorts, wiggling their way out of Wars’ grasp. “By the way, congrats on that promotion.”

“That was ages ago, it’s like you don’t keep up with me,” Wars scoffs playfully. “But seriously, I need you to cook for me again. I haven’t been the same without your home-cooked breakfasts.”

“Well, if you insist,” Wild relents. “Though I’m going to need a certain sous chef to help me.”

“That’s only fair,” Wars nods in agreement.

Warriors’ home is a townhouse deep in the heart of Castle Town, surrounded by a tall iron fence with pointed tips. The lawn is perfectly manicured, evenly cut grass and freshly trimmed roses. He’s silent as he unlocks the gate, as he leads Wild inside. Wars quickly closes the door behind them both, the sunlight trickling through the windows the only thing illuminating the darkened foyer.

It’s grand inside, that’s for sure. The blue carpet is soft and plush, and the wooden walls are filled with paintings and pictures. But something about it is… empty. Warriors awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck at Wild’s gaze.

“Kinda quiet around here,” Wild comments, but their face goes red when they realize the harshness of their words. “Uh, I mean it’s a really nice place you’ve got, Wars! You must be doing-”

Warriors suddenly places a hand behind Wild’s back, ushering them forward. “Yes, well, Althai is with his mother this week. Come on, the kitchen is this way.”

“Althai?” Wild cocks their head. “Wars, do you have a kid?”

“Yes, but-”

Wild side steps away from Wars. “Wait, I want to meet him!”

“We can’t right now, Wild,” Warriors pinches the bridge of his nose, an irritated scowl on his face that reminds Wild of the old man. “Freya and I aren’t… together anymore, and I’d rather not face her wrath if I showed up unannounced.”

Wild blinks. “Oh, I see.”

“So!” Wars quickly snaps out of it. “How about we avoid all that, and instead, we can make your breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Wild smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I was thinking crepes. You still like those, right?”

The tension fades away from Wars, and he grins back at his brother. “I’ve always loved your crepes.”

- - -

“You know, I never took you as the braiding type,” Wild remarks over a mouthful of honey crepe.

“Don’t talk while you’re eating,” Wars instinctively responds, one hand focused on Wild’s hair while he uses the other to take a bite of his own crepe.

“Aw, you sound like Zelda,” Wild pouts.

“How’s she doing, by the way?” Warriors asks. “You as well. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“We’re both doing good,” Wild announces. “I mean, after the whole revival of Ganondorf business—which is long over, by the way, please don’t worry about that—things have been quiet.” They gasp. “I have a niece now!”

“You do, huh?” Warriors says. “We’re getting old.”

“Ick, don’t remind me,” Wild sticks their tongue out. “I’m planning on staying as young and childlike as possible.”

“Again, you’re almost thirty.”

“Shut up!”

Warriors laughs at Wild’s outburst. He finishes the end of Wild’s braid, securing it with a hair tie. “All done.”

“Thanks for that, Wars,” Wild says as Wars loops around to sit across from them. “I usually get Sidon to do it, but with the one arm-”

Warriors raises a hand to stop them. “I get it, don’t worry.” His face sours quickly. “We should address the moblin in the room.”

“Right,” Wild sighs. “I definitely should not be here.”

“You’re not an unwelcome guest, but…” Warriors crosses his hands in front of him. “I haven’t heard of any black-blooded monsters again, have you?”

Wild shakes their head. “Nothing of the sort.”

“So whatever issue this is, it’s new,” he reasons. “How likely do you think it is that the two of us will be dragged away to another time together?”

“Based on past experience?” Wild questions. “That will almost certainly happen.”

“Great,” Wars rubs at his temples in agitation.

“Honestly, I’m just glad to get in at the beginning this time,” Wild admits. “You guys already knew everything by the time I joined! That wasn’t fair.”

“Easy, soldier,” Wars pats their head, much to Wild’s chagrin. “Eat up, it seems like we have somewhere to be soon.”

Wild raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Congratulations, you’re going to meet your nephew,” Wars grimaces, crossing his arms together. “We’re going to my ex-wife’s house.”

- - -

"Just let me do the talking."

Wild shoots Wars a suspicious look. The two of them are standing in front of an ornate wooden door, leading into a nice stone house on the edge of the city. "She can't be that bad."

"Whatever you're thinking, Freya's worse," Warriors insists, practically sweating bullets.

Wild rolls their eyes, before reaching forward and slamming the iron knocker into the door repeatedly.

"Wild!" Warriors grabs their hand, yanking them back.

"You were taking too long!"

"I would have knocked eventually, now I have to rush through this," he hisses, pulling Wild up to eye level. "Don't annoy her, don't break anything. Don't be yourself."

"That's so rude!" Wild squirms in his grasp. "Let go, I've only got the one arm!"

“Link?”

Wars drops Wild onto the stone steps below them as he finally notices Freya at the door. She has long, dark, curled hair, pulled back into a bun. She worriedly looks down at Wild, who’s pouting on the floor at their aches.

“Freya!” Wars immediately has a wary smile on his face. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“Uh, yes…” she claps her hand together, suddenly gesturing inside. “Please, please, come in!” Freya turns over her shoulder and yells, “Althai! Your dad’s here!”

“Dad!” a small voice shouts from elsewhere, and suddenly, a child darts in and latches onto Wars’ leg. “Dad, I missed you!”

“Let me see you!” Wars lifts the kid, holding him up to his face. Aside from his tan complexion and curls, Althai is a little clone of his father, with freckled cheeks and shiny gold hair. “How are you bigger already, Alt? It’s only been a few days!”

Althai giggles, and much to Wild’s surprise, Freya laughs as well.

As Warriors turns to Wild, he balances his son on his hip. “Althai, this is your Uncle Wild.”

“Oh.” Noticing Wild for the first time, Althai almost turns smaller in his father’s grasp. “Hi,” he says, shyly offering a little hand for Wild.

“It’s nice to meet you, Althai,” Wild smiles warmly, shaking his hand.

“Uncle Wild, huh?” Freya abruptly speaks up, a scowl on her face. “Althai, how about you show our guest the garden?” Her gaze turns to Wars, who swallows nervously as he places his son back on the ground. “I need to talk to your father.”

“Um. Okay,” Althai takes Wild’s hand, guiding them past his parents. “This way.”

“Alright,” Wild agrees. Before Althai can drag them away completely, they wink at Wars. A viable alternative for a thumbs up, of course.

- - -

Freya keeps a nice garden, Wild decides. They’re sitting on the stone path, dividing the flowers from the herbs. It’s well-manicured, unlike Wild’s own attempt at a vegetable garden a few years back. Bees buzz by, which they idly watch fly along.

Althai’s got his nose buried in a book, but since he’s a kid, Wild’s willing to let such a faux pas slide. He hasn’t said a word since they left the house, though, and they’re starting to get a bit antsy.

“So��” Wild drums their fingers on their leg. “What’re you reading?”

“Uh, it’s a book,” Althai says.

Wild nods. “Sure, sure. Of course.”

Silence hangs over the two of them again. This kid is nothing like the little firecracker Zelly is, Wild realizes.

“Do you really have one arm?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Wild lifts their poncho, showing off their missing arm again. “See? Pretty cool, huh?”

“Woah.” Althai abandons his book, inspecting them closer. “How did it happen?”

“Ohhhh, what a story,” Wild recounts, putting on their best spooky voice. “I was journeying through some caves with my friend, when suddenly, we came upon this evil man, who was put down there for trying to hurt Hyrule. When we got close, he heard us and woke up! And then, he used his evil, corrosive magic to-”

“Eep!” Althai shouts, hiding his face in the green cloth of Wild’s poncho.

Fuck!

“No, no!” Wild tries to amend, pulling back the poncho to reveal Althai’s face. “I was just- I was kidding! The arm was sick, and we had to get rid of it so I could be healthy. No bad men! No evil magic!”

“Oh,” Althai sits on the ground next to Wild. “Okay.”

Wild ruffles his hair. “You like stories, don’t you, kid?”

“Yeah,” Althai picks at the grass.

“Well, has your dad ever told you the story about his journey with the other Heroes across time?”

Althai perks up, nodding. “Mhm! All the Links!”

“Well, did you know I’m one of those Links?” Wild gestures to themself. “It’s true! I’m from thousands of years in the future!”

Althai gasps. “Really?!”

“Yes, really,” Wild confirms. “You know, I’ve got a few stories about your dad from back then. Stories I’m sure he never told you.”

“Tell me!” Althai jumps up, tugging on Wild’s shoulder. “Tell me tell me tell me!”

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Wild pulls the kid into their lap. “How about… the time we lost him on the coldest mountain in Hyrule?”

- - -

“So,” Freya crosses her arms, looking out the window. Her ex-husband sits across from her at the kitchen table. “That’s the Hero of the Wild in my backyard, isn’t it?”

“Er, yes,” Wars awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “Yes it is.”

“Alright, Link,” she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “What happened?”

"Freya, please, it's none of your concern."

"None of my-?!" Freya is taken aback. "How about this, Link. Is it another journey?"

Warriors nods. "Most likely, yes."

"So then Althai needs to stay with me for who knows how long," she reasons. "Which means I need to get his things from your place, and I'll be making the trip to his school to pick him up for weeks. Not to mention the fact that I'll have to comfort my kid over his father's absence."

"I don't have a choice!" Wars reminds her. "Do you think I want to miss my time with Althai?"

"I'm not saying that, Link!" Freya corrects. "I'm saying that this very obviously affects me, whether you'll admit it or not." She covers his hand with her own. "Tell me what happened, alright? Just because we're not married doesn't mean we can't be friends."

Friends, huh?

"I know you're excited to see Wild, again," Freya smiles. "It's been so long, you're allowed to want to see your friends."

"Even if it means leaving Althai?" Warriors frowns. He flips his hand to hold hers.

"He'll be alright," Freya says. "He's tough, just like his dad. He'll be waiting here when you get back."

"When I get back," Wars echoes. "Yes, you're right! We'll visit when we can, and you and Althai can meet all of them!" Wars suddenly takes both her hands. "I'll be back before you know it, I promise."

"Thank you, Link," Freya sighs in relief. "How about we invite those two rascals back in? I'd love to get to know your brother."

"That's a great idea," Warriors grins. "I knew you were my best idea maker."

"Always have been."

- - -

“I’ll see you soon, Alty,” Wild kneels down to pat the kid’s head. “Remember, if your dad doesn’t let you do something, tell him that Uncle Legend would.”

“Wild, what are you telling my kid?” Wars crosses his arms and scowls. Once again, the image of Time and his disappointing glare comes right to Wild’s mind.

“Nothing!” Wild steps aside. “Just saying he should stay in school! Stuff like that!”

“Sure.” Wild can tell by his tone that Warriors doesn’t believe them, but he instead chooses to scoop Althai up in a hug. “Be good for your mother, my little bookworm. I’ll be back soon! Once this is all done, I’m taking you for ice cream.”

“Alright, Dad!” Althai giggles, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you.” With his free hand, Wars digs through his pockets, producing a key that he offers to Freya. “This is my spare key. Take it, it’s yours.”

“Why thank you, Sir Link,” Freya graciously takes the key. “I’ll be sure to keep all your plants watered.”

And so, Wild and Wars find themselves back on the road, walking side by side as the sun sets. Wild takes a deep breath and sighs, enjoying the fresh air.

This is it.

“You know, Freya was actually very nice,” Wild says, smirking.

Warriors scoffs. “Oh, quiet you.”

“You’re still so dramatic,” they remark. “I can’t believe a word you say.”

“Hush,” Wars wraps an arm around Wild’s shoulder, drawing them close. “I’m trying to enjoy having my brother back, and you’re ruining it.”

Wild laughs, but before they can respond with their own witty comeback, there’s a bright light. Blinking through the brightness, the heroes find a portal in front of them, its golden swirls welcoming and inviting.

“Well, I guess it’s time,” Wild says. “You ready, Commander?”

“I guess I am, Chef,” Wars smiles.

“Aw, it’s cute you think I’m professionally trained.”

And so, once again, two of Hylia’s heroes step through a portal again, with neither an idea of where they’re going nor a care in the world.

#linked universe #lu wild #lu warriors #reunion tour au #rav's writing #fanfic

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imagineaworld · 4 years ago

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ex’s best friend

in which y/n and steve broke up

pairing: bucky x y/n, steve x y/n (exes)

word count: 763

warnings: swearing, angst, slut-shaming if u squint

“you sure about this?” you asked.

bucky squeezed your hand and nodded. “let’s go.”

the two of you walked through the door into the room where the party was. the sound of music and laughter carried in the air. you glanced at bucky, searching for signs of apprehension on his face.

“hey guys!” thor shouted, happy as ever. “nice of you to finally join us.”

you rolled your eyes at him. “fashionably late.” you joked.

“help yourselves to drinks and whatnot,” tony stood aside to let the two of you walk in. “just to let you know, y/n, he’s here. and he’s been drinking.”

you appreciated the warning. you’d known that steve would be here. after almost a year of dating, you and steve had broken up a few months ago, and this was the first time seeing steve since you and bucky announced you were dating.

“uh oh,” you mumbled to bucky, who overheard tony’s warning.

he smiles at you sympathetically, shaking his head dismissively.

at first, you didn’t see him. the room was pretty big and there were a lot of people there. but by the time you and bucky had gotten drinks and settled yourselves on the sofa, steve walked into view.

you pretended not to notice, carrying on your conversation with bucky. but steve noticed you. he stared at you from across the room and you could feel his eyes on you.

“he’s staring.” bucky told you, signalling at steve with his head.

“just ignore him,” you told him.

“he’s coming over.”

you laughed. “oh, shut up.”

“no, seriously,” bucky pressed.

confused, you followed bucky’s gaze and saw that Steve was indeed walking over. your heart started to beat a little faster with nerves.

“y/n.” steve said, completely ignoring bucky sat beside you. “is it- are you- can...can we talk?”

you cast a worried glance to bucky, who nodded in encouragement. in the weeks leading up to your and steve’s break up, you and bucky had become close. you had often confided in him when you and steve argued, or when steve was late for dates (which happened to be every single time).

by the time the break up happened, bucky had developed strong feelings for you and you for him. he wanted to show you how you were supposed to be treated, but steve being his best friend made things a bit awkward. in the end, it was nat who convinced bucky to go for it, that he deserved to be happy and that steve had his chance.

steve led you to a private corner of the room, though not quite out of sight. you had of course seen steve since the break-up, but not this up close. he looked like he was doing okay, just a shadow of stubble across his jaw. you were glad he seemed alright.

"look, i dunno what you're up to, showing up with bucky. if it's just to make me jealous then it's working but-"

you softly interjected, "steve, bucky's my boyfriend. i'm not trying to make you jealous, i thought you'd be over it by now."

steve looked shocked. "bucky's your boyfriend? since when?"

"couple weeks ago," you shrugged.

"y/n, how could you do this to me?" steve snapped.

"what are you talking about?" you shot back.

steve's voice was venomous. "start seeing my best friend behind my back."

"it's hardly behind your back, steve," you hissed. "and it's not about you, it's about bucky. he was there for me while you were breaking my heart."

"we just broke up, y/n. you could've waited before you moved on to the next guy."

you'd had enough. "you stopped caring about me weeks before we broke up, and now you suddenly care? that's bullshit."

"language," steve chastised.

you were bewildered. "you know what, steve? fuck you."

you whirled around and noticed the music has stopped and all the avengers were staring at you and steve. you searched in the sea of faces for bucky.

you spotted him, standing by the door you had not long arrived through. he motioned with his head for you to follow him, and you did so without so much as one glance back to steve.

you followed him out into the hall as you heard the music start again.

"you okay, babe?" he spoke quietly, softly stroking your cheek.

you nuzzled against his hand, sighing. "i knew something like this would happen."

"it's alright, doll," bucky pulled you into his chest. "he'll get over it."

"you think so?" you mumbled.

"he has to, because i'm not going anywhere."

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #stucky x reader #stucky #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky imagine #steve rogers x reader

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eclipsedpascal · 4 years ago

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Fucking your stress away

Duncan Shepherd x female reader

You surprised a stressed out duncan when you stopped by his office for lunch, but there was a different type of hunger you needed to satisfy.

Warnings: daddy kink, degrading, mocking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, cockwarming, slightly public sex (they’re in an office) anddd sex being overheard by others.

hi!! i have another duncan fic i’ve been working on that’s like 8k long so far, but I’ve not been able to add anything new to it for the past week without criticising myself too much:/ meaning the random burst of inspiration i received last night was directed into this quick thing instead:)

word count: 2k

••••••••

The soft clicking of Duncan’s finger tips tapping across his computer keyboard filled the silence of his spacious office. You were sat, skirt pulled up over your hips as you perched on his lap with his cock seated deep inside of your cunt.

You had visited him for lunch, wanting to surprise him at work. You hoped it might ease some of the stress he had been under the past few weeks.

Just last night, the two of you had spent hours lying in bed together, limbs tangled and intwined whilst he ranted onto you about how tedious his time at the office had become recently. With his uncle bill constantly nagging on and on about how he thought their app would be best utilised, he had been under a lot of pressure.

You knew Duncan loved his work, but sometimes he simply refused to let himself rest, telling himself he just couldn't until his work was completed. So here you were, making sure he received a much needed break.

“Ah ah, no fidgeting, sweetheart.” He mindlessly grazed his hand over your thigh, reminding you of his previous requests whilst reading what you assumed to be an email.

Of course, it had been his idea for you to cockwarm him, it not being the first thought of yours when considering how to best help him relax. But you definitely weren’t going to complain.

When he first suggested it, you had been sitting in his lap with your legs dangling over his own, the both of you conversing about how your day had gone so far as you ate lunch together. But with the way he kept looking into your eyes and stroking his fingers through your hair so sensually, you just couldn't help but wiggle and grind your ass down onto his crotch a little, hoping he might give you something more.

No matter how long the two of you had been together, Duncan had always seemed to know exactly which buttons he had to press for you to melt in his hands, which made convincing you to do this far easer on his part.

He told you if you just sat on his cock, stayed motionless and silent until he had finished going through the emails he had received before midday, he would give you that something more that you were wanting.

So you had been sat here for what felt like hours now, through realistically, it was probably only about 20 minutes, going unsatisfied for so long was dragging every second out into an eternity. I mean you didn’t mind too much, knowing this was what he needed right now; but still, even the slightest bit of movement from him would have been appreciated.

“Mhhm but Dunnnc! You said you wouldn’t be too long!” you pouted, throwing your head back against his shoulder in a strop, your breathe tickling his stubbled cheek as you whined to him.

“I still have a few more emails to reply to yet Y/N, be patient.” His indifference and calmness almost annoyed you, not really understanding how he could possibly control himself this well within your current shared predicament.

“Fine.” you sighed, resting your forehead against the side of his face so you could wait for him to finish a little more comfortably.

You watched as he wrote out each email, secretly admiring how dedicated he was to his work even when it was causing him so much distress.

You could see him thinking, his lips all scrunched up like a rosebud, they always did that when he was concentrated. You adored it.

“Fucking Bill, he can never just make things easy.” He murmured to himself, massaging his forehead and shifting slightly in his seat, the fiction of it causing a small mewl to fall from your lips.

He chuckled. “Quiet, little one.”

“Mm sorry, daddy. You’re just taking so long and I really reallyyy want you.” You rolled your hips as you spoke, feeling his shaft pressing up into cervix even more that before, and sent him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

You couldn’t wait for him any longer, this need fuelled haze had taken over your mind completely.

A low growl sounded from deep in his chest as he grabbed onto your hips, turning his head to shoot daggers into your eyes from his own. “All I asked was that you be patient, Y/N. But you can't even do that, can you?” He lifted your hips up before slamming them back down onto his own.

“Ahhh!-” Digging your nails into the edge of his desk as to steady yourself, you bite down onto your lip, not wanting Duncan’s receptionist to hear anything of what the two of you were up to.

“Well I suppose you have been waiting for 30 minutes now, maybe i’m being unfair on you.” He quietly questioned himself, his hands sliding up to play with the dip of your waist.

“Please, Duncan. Please” You begged him now, coaxing him to fuck you like he had promised.

Taking a hold of your hair, he pulled your head to the side and began to kiss and suckle on the exposed skin of your neck. He thrust up into you again, letting a strangled moan escape his throat.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Duncan had been struggling to keep himself composed just as much as you had. Picturing how beautifully fucked out you would look pressed up against his desk with his cock slamming in and out of you wasn't an easy thought for him to dismiss.

“You know, I do love it when you beg, sweetheart.” He lifted you up again, pushing you forward just enough that he could begin his assault on your cunt.

“Fuck!” He thrusted himself into you, drawing back slowly and watching his thick cock slip out of your folds almost completely, before forcing it back in and setting his rocky pace.

You couldn't hold in your moans, too caught up in the stream of pleasure gushing onto you to stop yourself from screaming. He pulled the chair out slightly, your arms becoming outstretched as to not let yourself loose the balance you had on his desk whilst staying firmly on his lap.

Every hit against your cervix made you cry out, the tears brimming in your eyes threatening to spill with every movement he made.

The two of you did this all the time. Fucking in his office. But usually it would consist of you lazily riding him, your sweaty body bouncing on top of his own and your lips caressing each others as you breathed one another in, but this? This was something else entirely.

All of the stress that had amounted from having to run gardener analytics with his family’s constant nagging the past few weeks, was now being channeled into railing you. Your soft cries did nothing to deter the speed at which he was pumping himself into you.

His desk’s phone started ringing, making you jump at thought of him answering right then, but he never did. His pace not faltering, he didn’t even bother checking who it was calling, far too focused on the euphoria your tight heat was giving him.

“Such a slut. Coming to see daddy at work just so he could ruin this sweet little cunt of yours, didn’t you?” He belittled you, his words only serving to turn you on more.

“Yes I- I want you to.. ahhh!” He stopped hammering into you momentarily, raising himself upwards until hips were pushed flush against your ass, making you take every inch of him. “I want you to ruin me daddy!!”

“That’s right baby.” He continued moving, his hands still attached to your hips as he fucked into you with full force.

His fingers were going to leave bruises, that much you were sure of, but getting to hear all of his grunts and groans whilst he got himself off using you was definitely worth it.

Amongst the sound of skin slapping and your delicate cries, you heard two knocks at the door. Duncan ceased his pounding, pulling you back to sit on his lap properly and adjusting your skirt as he waited to hear further from the knocking’s perpetrator.

“Uhm, Mr Shepherd?” A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. It was Duncans new assistant, Alex. He must have heard the two of you.

“What is it Alex? I’m busy.” You both waited in silence, praying Alex didn’t decide to come in.

“Uh Seth- Seth Greyson is on the line for you, he says it's important.” He sounded hesitant, and you knew that he would usually enter the room to give Duncan that kind of information. Meaning he had definitely heard you.

“Then tell him he'll just have to wait.” Duncan shouted now, clearly just wanting to get back to fucking you, and upon hearing the pitter patter of Alex’s footsteps as he walked away, that’s exactly what he did.

though his thrusts were sloppier now, almost uncaring as he snaked his hand over your thigh to flick your clit seemingly as fast as he could.

“Almost got caught there didn’t we, sweetheart?” He scoffed, His voice gruff, breathy and punctuated by his thrusts.

“And wouldn't that have been something.” You quipped back, finding relief in not being walked in on.

Your words were quickly followed by a scream, getting closer to finishing.

The motion of his finger circling against your clit was going straight to your stomach, creating a pressure so intense you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from cumming even if you tried.

“Mhm daddy.. i’m gonna cum!!” You did your best to warn him, knowing it wouldn't be long now until you came, but luckily he didn't seem too far away either. His speed had picked up even more somehow, and his moaning had grown louder and more erratic.

“Yeah are you gonna cum baby? Gonna cum all over daddy’s fucking cock?” He yelled out, obviously not caring if Alex, or anyone else for that matter, could hear you; Neither of you did now. So washed up with your own release’s that nothing else mattered.

“Yes daddy.. ahhh i’m cumming!!” Your legs began to tremble upon letting go, your walls clenching around Duncan and pushing him over the edge.

“Aghh fuck Y/N!” He shot his hot ropes of seed into you, crashing his hips to a still whilst he caught his breathe and gently pulled you back down to sit on his softening cock.

Resting your head on his shoulder once more, you stared across the room, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin on yours, considering the act the two of you had just partaken in.

“So that what definitely something” you smiled and stood up, pulling your panties back up your legs and fixing your skirt as you watched Duncan thread his belt back through the loops of his pants.

“Hm. I just hope Alex can look me in the eye after this” he chuckled, thinking of how awkward the poor man must have felt talking to him, after surely hearing all the obscene noises coming from the pair of you. You giggled at the thought, crawling back onto his lap and planting a much needed, tender kiss on his lips.

“Shit, I should probably call back Seth.” He frowned, reminding himself of all the emails and calls he was yet to make. He pulled the chair closer to the desk and started to dial for Seth, but then stopped to look at you.

His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his eyes darting back at forth at yours with an admiration so bright it sparkled in his irises. “Thanks for coming in today baby. I really needed that.” He stated the obvious.

You leaned into his hand, smiling back at him with a mirrored love. “Mhmm I know. I think you should fuck your stress away with me more often.”

••••••••

some tags: @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby lemme know if you want to be added or removed! cuz i just kinda guessed who i thought might want to read it😌

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd fic #duncan shepherd x you #my writing #stressed out daddy duncan🥺#cody fern

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