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gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

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Thread the Needle | Yoga!Din

Pairing: Modern!Din x Yoga Instructor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, goodbye)

Word count: 3.5k~

Warnings/tags: Yoga!Din (yes, he gets his own warning), hurt/comfort, language, smut, good ol' fashioned cunnilingus, piv

Notes: ✨ HI FRIENDS ✨ Yoga!Din rides again. This idea has been stewing (pun intended, you'll get it later) in my dumb brain for a while now and I've finally decided to write it. Technically, this takes place a little farther into the future (perhaps when the pair is more of an item, and less of a fuckbuddy fling, but thorough plot? We don’t know her). Anyways, enjoy! Cheers x

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s the most agonizing sixty minutes of his goddamn life.

He’s seated on his mat, legs folded into a fucking pretzel—lotus pose, a calm voice inside his head corrects—and he’s steaming.

She isn’t here.

He is—Din, for all his faults, showed the fuck up to class but she didn’t, and in her place there’s some smelly old bat, this woman’s wrinkly ass – sits bones – plunked down at the front of the studio— occupying her spot, where she should be.

His eyes stalk the movements of this other woman as she putters around the studio—the godawful stench of something earthy wafting behind her— and it looks wrong. It feels wrong; like a violation somehow—of the space.

Of their space.

“The light in me recognizes the light in you,” they all utter in unison like a fucking hippie cult, and he books it out of there, swiping his mat up with an aggressive slap and rolling it under his arm.

“Hey,” he calls out, pacing towards the front desk. The receptionist— Riley? Kylie? Din can never remember—glances up from her phone, bright eyed.

Poor thing.

“Who the fuck is that?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the studio, the gaggle of ladies trickling out of it already gossiping and clucking away. Din doesn’t mean to sound accusatory; he doesn’t mean to be this intense. It’s not this girl’s fault, he knows that— but she’s in proximity and she’s shit out of luck.

“M’sorry?” she sputters, blinking up at him.

Breathe, that same voice coos—he can feel the tickle of it behind his ear.

“Our usual Wednesday instructor,” Din begins again, clipped. “Where is she?”

“Oh," she shrugs, "she called in sick.”

With a furrowed brow he pitches forward, craning over the desk. “Is she okay?”

The girl— Miley? —all but flinches back from him, a quizzical expression wormed onto her. “Uhm, yeah she has the flu—nasty one, too, but she’ll probably be back by ne-"

Din doesn’t linger long enough for her to finish. He’s wheeled around, striding from the building, the tinny chime of the bell ringing out as the door creaks closed behind him. The women exchange waggling glances in his wake, tittering in mouthwatering delight—more juicy fodder for their post-yoga soiree.

///

He doesn’t remember driving there. He made a quick stop to the grocery store— their grocery store, now— to pick up what he needed and before he knows it, he’s at her front door, bringing his fist down upon it in hard raps.

He hears movement—can sense it there, can practically imagine it: her lithe body tip toeing over— no, she’s got the flu, maybe it’s more of a shuffle—and peeking through the peephole. There’s a weighty pause and then—

The slow, dubious clicks of unbolting locks, the turning of a handle, the yawn of the wood as it opens.

Her voice is made small with disbelief and exhaustion. “Din?”

“Can I come in?”

She cracks the door ajar, standing in the frame of it now, a thick blue comforter slung over an arm, and she can’t quite mask the stupefied look etched onto her face.

He’s never done this. She’s never done this. He’s been to her place twice—three times, if he counts them fucking in the car in her driveway—and he’s certainly never showed up unannounced.

“Uhm, I-”

“Great.”

Din pushes past her, plastic bag swinging heavy at his side.

“W-What?”

She’s left gaping, mouth and eyes opened incredulously, ogling the way he struts through her entryway, before finally having the wherewithal to close the door. “Hey, what are you-”

“You need to keep your fluids up,” he says roughly—as if it’s obvious—making a beeline towards the kitchen.

She follows after him, bunching the throw snuggly around her shoulders. “Din,” she utters feebly, “I really don’t think you should be here right now.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Please, I don’t wanna get you sick."

He thunks the bag onto the granite countertop, producing two cans.

She doesn’t know why she bothers, it’s not like he’s listening to her anyways. If she’s learned anything about Din Djarin, it’s that he’s nothing if not stubborn—impossibly immovable. He’s tossed his jacket off, slinging it over the island, a determined glint in his eye as he prowls around the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.

“Seriously, I don’t want you catching this. I feel like shit… Oh my god, I look like shit,” she groans in realization, burying her head in the blanket, hermitting herself away.

“You look fine,” he replies gruffly, delving through the drawers in search of a can opener.

Frumpy sweats and a baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it that’s absolutely hanging off her. Hair tossed up and sloppy, coiled into a loose bun, errant pieces rebelling every which way. A little pale, maybe. Tired eyes. Messy.

Beautiful, he meant. She looks fucking irritatingly beautiful.

Din continues to rifle through her cabinets and he exhales in frustration, “Jesus, where do you keep your pans?”

“Bottom right,” she points begrudgingly.

He grunts, finding one big enough and sets it down on the stove.

She can’t stop fussing over him; making comments here and there, asking if he wants anything, needs anything—water, kombucha, tea, a beer, a snack—if she can help in any way possible—and it nearly sends him over the damn edge.

“Would you quit it and just let me take care of you?” he grits out, and her mouth clamps shut with a pop.

She’s quiet after that, picking anxiously at a thread poking out from the blanket she wears like a shawl—observing as he empties the cans into a large pot, lights the gas stove, and brings it to a boil. She gives him space, stationing herself by the kitchen table, leaning a hip into one of the four chairs there.

Honestly she does try to keep to herself; she tries to accept what Din is doing for her, but she can’t help it. As soon as she sees him ladling the soup into one of her favorite cups—it looks so tiny in his grasp— and bringing it over to her like a goddamn patron saint, she breaks.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah well, you need to get healthy so you can take your class back from that fucking fossil.”

“Din,” she admonishes.

“Baby,” he gives her a pointed look and she gnaws at the inside of her cheek, a blush blotting her clavicle. “She fucking smells. Now sit your pretty little ass down-”

“But-”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to sink into the chair with a soft oomf, and places the bowl in front of her. “Don’t fight me on this. Drink the fucking soup.”

She huffs, glancing down, and then back up to Din.

“Progresso?”

He grunts.

She blows at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

Din crosses his arms over his chest and plops back onto the island.

“Classic,” she praises, mumbling into it.

She loathes to admit it, but the first sip tastes like heaven. It soothes her raw vocal chords, worn hoarse from nights of coughing, and seeps deep to warm her cold bones.

Din remains mute through the whole affair, staring owlishly as she spoons it down, slurp for slurp, until he’s satisfied she’s finished. When she does, she arches an eye brow at him— mouth pressing into a thin line. Happy now?

He tips his head and pads over to her.

“Wait, no you don’t have to-" He swipes it from the table, the spoon clanking against the ceramic rim. Din moves to the sink and she groans.

“Just leave it,” she whines, but he ignores her—stubborn stubborn stubborn— he’s already got soap on the sponge and the water running. Again, she huffs and rises to her feet, hem of the blanket trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” she gives in a hushed tone.

It’s so strange— being taken care of in her own place. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. It’s ill-fitting, foreign, and she can only hover there, buzzing like a pesky insect beside him.

He’s wiping the dish off with a towel when he chances a peek back at her, practically stuttering when he does.

She’s swaddled in that fucking quilt, awkward and impossibly sincere and precious just standing there—watching him play house in her home. A brush of color has sprung up on her cheeks—more light in her eyes, too—and Din, try as he might, can’t pry himself off her.

She’s sick—she’s sick and gorgeous and he wants her. He wants her to feel better, he wants to fuck her, he wants to hold her. He’s overcome with it.

He swallows.

Fuck.

He abandons the bowl and rag in the drying rack and turns to her, her eyes widening, glassy and bloodshot, as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear— knuckles trailing down her jaw.

“Din…”

Her tongue skips over her lip—mocking him—damp and full and begging to be taken by his own, and her breath catches as he drags a thumb across that plump flesh, enrapt with the way her mouth parts so effortlessly for him—so fucking supple. Din’s gut twists and his blood thickens in his veins—the air between them rippling with something velvet and carnal.

He takes a step towards her. Her throat bobs.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she pouts in protest, rutting her palm into his chest, but there’s no fight in it. The blanket slips from her shoulders, hitting the ground with a dulled splat.

“Din,” she tries again, “I don’t want you to-"

He leans in, cradling her cheek, murmurs fanning over her face. “I’ll risk it.”

And he dissolves the gap, sealing her mouth with his in a tender kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, how they rove tentative and unhurried over each other—an innocent exploration— all until his tongue darts out to touch along her lip and she whimpers into him, letting Din dip into the dark cavern of her mouth. She tastes warm, like comfort and broth and rainy days, and he sighs as she brings her hands up to weave into his hair.

Neither of them fight for dominance like this—their tangle of soft sounds is perfectly balanced— Hatha; effort and ease, breath and body. He pushes, she relents—she surges forward, Din bends. They dance like this, slow as tar, until she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

He seethes, inhaling sharply as his hands slide possessive and greedy down her body, grabbing fistfuls of her waist hidden under all the oversized layers, and crushing her into him. She’s making these airy noises, panting and urgent and fuck if it doesn’t tear him apart—viscerally, from the inside out.

Din walks her backwards, step for choreographed step, foxtrotting until she bumps into the kitchen table. He breaks away from the kiss to reach past her, frantically pushing away the unopened mail and receipts and loose change, the jingling of her keys cutting through the wanton quiet as they clang onto the tile, and he hitches her up to sit there with one fell swoop.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he husks, inbetween the bites he’s searing onto her neck. “Please, just lie back for me sweet girl.”

“Din, I-“

He silences her with a nibble to her ear, coaxing a breathy yelp out of her. “Lie back, baby.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. She acquiesces, Din’s wide palm splayed on her breasts, guiding her to recline back onto the table. He makes speedy work of her sweatpants, yanking them down her legs and flinging them off to land in a crumpled heap.

He sinks to his knees, pulling the cradle of her hips to the edge of the table before parting her thighs. The gloss of her cunt, wet and glistening for him, makes his hardening cock jump up to his stomach, and she twitches as soon as the cool air brushes against her.

“Fuck me,” he groans, whispering into her heat like he’s pained, like the sight alone is torturing him—like it’s slowly but surely ending his fucking life.

Din breathes her in with a sigh, that summer fruit tang— the scent of her aching and pulsing for him— and he starts tracing up and down her inner thigh with his tongue and teeth, nibbling along the path there until he’s at her apex. He’s dimpling her pliant skin with his calloused fingertips, strong hands wrapped under her knees, keeping them splayed as he kisses along her outer lips, nipping at her hip bones, teasing everywhere but where she needs him most.

It’s devastating—debilitating—and she’s shaking now. Every muscle, every fiber of her, convulsing with anticipation—with the promise of being dissected, of being torn apart and stitched back together again. She’s already got a hand covering her mouth, muffling the sobs he’s drawing out as he toys with her— playing her like a fucking fiddle.

Din’s eyes flit up to find her like this, brow pinched tight and cries stifled, and he chuckles— he fucking laughs— heady and ambered into her legs.

“You doin’ alright up there, teach?”

“F-Fuck you,” she hisses out with a weak whine.

God, she’s fucking perfect.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He smirks— she can feel the shape of it against her thigh, the way his stubble grates along her skin— and she can only mewl, speechless. Pathetic.

“Yeah, I know what you need...” Din hums, before finally - finally - taking mercy on her.

With one single drag, he tongues a broad stripe up her slit.

The noise that rips through her sounds like she’s being strangled— it gets caught in her throat like a trapped animal in hot car— a desperate little thing clawing to get out. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving nicks in the chestnut lacquer. Immediately, she cants up to him, searching for his mouth hungrily and Din all but obliges as he clasps onto her hips, keeping her still while he fucks into her.

He’s carving her out— hollowing her; burying himself in her folds, nosing against her mound. He laps her up in kitten licks, delving the muscle of his tongue in and out of her, leaving her weak and gasping. Din laves up and down and side to side in clever little swivels, before he reaches her clit and sucks.

Her fist shoots from her mouth to grip his wavy locks, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“O-Oh my god, Din - fuck - Din. Oh fuck oh fuck-"

He loves it when she gets like this; that serene and tranquil exterior— the one that can quell a studio full of strangers into a haze with only the sound of her voice, that voice he can’t get out of his fucking head, the one that got them into this mess in the first place— shattered, mutilated beyond recognition and all she has left is her need— her wild, unbridled need.

Her need for his tongue, for his fingers, for his dick. Din Din Din, she only wants him— only needs him.

He slips a finger into her, easing past his knuckle in one movement, and her chin tips back, crown of her head digging into the table, hair mussing against the wood grain.

Her nipples have pebbled through her shirt, her pretty feet arched and contorted, and she’s heaving - writhing - like this above him.

He adds another digit, pumping in and out, the squelch of her pussy sounding lewd and obscene and fucking divine as he grazes her clit with his teeth, pulling at it.

“Fuck-” she rasps, legs quivering on their own accord— instinct and reflex demanding she tremble— and Din moans into her sex, feeling her walls constrict around his fingers, and he curls them up as he thrusts, hitting against that spongy patch insider her that makes her vision go white.

“Din, I- I’m—"

She can’t manage the rest. Instead of words, she cries— high pitched and wounded, as if she’s barely making it out alive. Her legs clamp around his head, bracing him there, and she cums— she loses it for him— her slick coating his nose, his lips, the hair speckled around his chin. She soaks him, and it leaves Din rocking his hips and humping the fucking air— as randy as a teenager, ravenous for anything, even if it’s just the friction of his pants drawn tight around his erection.

He takes her through her orgasm, lapping at her softly until she’s warbling—a slew of nonsense babbling out of her— and he leans back on his heels to admire his work, eyes singeing into her cunt made puffy and swollen pink, fluttering at the loss of him.

He plants one final kiss to the cleft of her pussy before shifting his weight back up to his feet, slotting himself between her.

Fuck, he isn’t as young as he once was— he feels his age in the ache of his knees. All the yoga in the world can’t erase his scar tissue, can’t undo time.

But he thinks maybe—if he’ll let himself—that she makes him feel younger. Lighter.

He squeezes her calf and begins to move away when she whimpers, bolting upright to palm greedily at the bulge pressing painfully against its constraint, her fingers fidgeting with his zipper and Din— in an uncharacteristic show of strength and self restraint— gingerly clasps onto her wrists, holding her still.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap up to meet his. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, but-”

“You don’t- we don’t have to-"

“Din,” she pants, grabbing onto the waist of his jeans and pressing her center into him, smearing herself along the denim there, her pearled clit catching on the rough fabric. Her eyes have gone jet-black with desire, obsidian lust burning through them. “Din, fuck me. Please fuck me, plea-“

Shit.

He’s never moved so fast in his goddamn life, unbuttoning his jeans in a flash, untucking himself— throbbing, leaking already—from his briefs. He gives himself two rough jerks, his blunt tip prodding at her entrance, before pushing into her with a gasp.

Fuck, she’s warm— not just warm, she’s hot. She’s molten, and she’s milking him for all he’s worth, gripping around him, fucking strangling his cock with how wet she is—how tight. God, she’s a fucking dream—a nightmare too, undoubtedly.

“Fuck baby - shit - you’re—hnng-” He groans—can’t even form a real sentence—all of his blood has rushed out of his brain and straight to the juncture where their bodies meet.

His eyes flutter deliriously at the feeling of her stretching around him like this and for a passing, fleeting moment, he considers the fact that he should be gentle with her— that she’s not feeling well, that she’s probably sore with body chills and God knows what else and that she should rest—

But once her knees are split apart and legs spread long— so fucking flexible, fuck she’s killing him— his well-met concern all but abandons him.

He fucks her hard— so hard she falls back, that unforgiving surface bruising into her spine. He probably hurts her a little—just how he likes, just how she loves.

Din plows into her, digging into the meat of her thighs, slamming into the pussy that takes him so fucking well, the pussy that feels like it’s made for him— like she’s made for him— and the table shudders with each roll of his hips, scraping it inch by inch along the tile, knocking against the chairs with loud, clattering bangs.

“W-Wait— wait wait wait-“ she pants, hands scampering up to his arms.

He slows his thrusts until he’s stilled inside of her, worry creasing around his eyes. “W-What? Are you okay—what’s wrong?”

“T-The table," she whines, “it’s from fucking IKEA. I built this piece of shit myself— there’s no way it’s gonna stay standing with you fucking me into it like this.”

Din barks out a laugh, throaty and genuine, and for the second time today, he comes to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

“Bedroom?” she nods down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he growls before scooping her up, lifting her off the table, her legs scrambling to hook around his waist, forearms bracing around the broad plain of his shoulders.

“Din!” she squeals in surprise, “I can walk, you know.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving her a bounce and a light slap to her ass. “You’re sick.”

///

“Onions,” he mutters, leaden eyelids nestled shut.

He didn’t mean to stay over this long—well past sunset, later than he’s ever allowed himself—but how could he be expected to leave? After she came on his cock - twice - and he had filled her up until his cum was gushing from her, extricating himself out of this exact position of woven, spent limbs and sweat stained sheets sounded criminal.

“What?” She cranes groggily up at him.

“The sub. She smelled like onions. And patchouli.”

“Hey,” she tuts in mock offense, “Brenda is nice.”

“Good for Brenda. Doesn’t make her smell any better.”

“God, you are so rude,” she laughs, shaking her head as she nuzzles into Din’s side, lips curving into a sleepy grin against his chest—right above the aching thump of his caged heart.

Taglist (I apologize if I missed anyone!):

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamers @greatcircle79 @iamskyereads @imnotinlove-thisisnotyoursong @fan-of-encouragement @read-and-rec @helmet-comes-off @keeper0fthestars @hellabaybee @ourmotherofyearning @krissology

#yoga!din #I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL #modern!din #modern au #din djarin smut #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #smut #mando x fem!reader #mando x you #mando x female oc #hurt/comfort #fanfic #one shot #star wars fanfic #pedro pascal #din djarin au

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knowlesian · 2 years ago

Note

OFMD Ask Game: 4, 9, 16?

favorite inanimate object (turning on hardmode for myself: no picking the most obvious and awesome plot related ones)

i’m gonna go with the teal earring! for a couple reasons, one of them not even plot related.

on the surface plot level, it’s just super adorable, and jim/oluwande kills me softly all the time forever. who knows if the show will circle back to this later, but i wouldn’t mind at all if they just leave it there— because no matter what chain of events anyone wants to decide they like best, it’s all perfection.

either jim met oluwande and went ‘hey, that very attractive man is wearing my favorite color’ and that sends me into the stratosphere, or when they met jim had a different favor color— or maybe no favorite color, because the revenge training life doesn’t lend itself to pondering favorite colors, and after spending day in and day out next to literally the best person on the face of this fictional earth ofmd has created, teal became their favorite color.

(or, hell: jim always loved teal, and jim bought the earring or encouraged oluwande to buy it because they wanted to see him in their favorite color! the possibilities are endless.)

but the thing that really makes it for me is the story vico told about how originally, jim was meant to clarify at the end of the episode that they lied, and that purple was actually their favorite color.

given the way jim and oluwande function as a bright mirror for stede and ed (and sometimes for ed and izzy) that makes a lot of sense. purple often stands for ed’s increasing willingness to be vulnerable and his slow movement to opening up, this is the episode with ed shedding the leather to just wear his purple top and jim is having their ‘if you want a glimpse into ed and stede’s future, look at jim and oluwande’s plot arcs because they are either doing the healthy version of whatever poor choices their narrative reflections are making/going to make and stand in as a signpost for where this show is going overall’ place in the narrative cemented.

but one of the cool things about tv (or any medium where a writer hands off their words to other human people) is that those people bring new life to something that hits different when it’s just those words, standing on their own without the nuance an actor can bring to said words.

jim’s favorite color actually being purple made perfect sense, in the version of the story that didn’t have vico and samson breathing new life into already amazing words— jim’s favorite color being teal is the only appropriate choice, now that those performances exist. the fact that they changed that original plan is a perfect example of how the best kind of tv writing needs to marry having an overall plan that doesn’t shift from day one so they can write towards it with oodles of flexibility and the knowledge that stories tend to shift and change as you tell them long-form.

knowing what cannot be changed and what is absolutely up for grabs is one of those fine writer lines that sort of can be summed up as ‘bones stay the same, but you should def fuck around with with you stretch over those bones as you go’ but blah blah, more complicated and i can’t start talking about that or i’ll never shut up.

(finding out that the almost-kiss was also vico and samson being like, fuck it we know this is heading to us ending up together and this feels right is yet another perfect example of how good actors who are dialed into their characters are one of the best assets a tv writer has.)

FAVORITE ANACHRONISM hmmm, what haven’t i mentioned yet.

on a serious turn, i’m going to go with the use of phrenology; as a data point towards this being a purposefully alternate history, leaning on metaphor and rolling its eyes at the idea it can’t just use whatever has the most narrative crunch/is the most fun, it’s great.

as a thematic statement, it’s a fucking killer. i need to actually finish the weird white jesus post (it got... like, maybe a multi-part deal and also i ended up needing to do a bunch of extra research to solidify the details on stories i know the broader strokes for, so. SOMEDAY!) and it’ll probably come up there, but the beat i’m most obsessed with is the way phrenology rises for a lot of reasons, but motivationally is essentially an excuse to continue with the brutality of empire, in all its many forms; because one of the lies we like to tell is that nobody knew how horrific this all was.

they knew! like, everybody knew. some people might have denied they knew, to themselves or others, yet more went ahead and convinced themselves anyone not already white and civilized like they were white and civilized deserved what they got, and the details admittedly were often obfuscated, and paperwork and first hand accounts buried/destroyed, but people fucking knew.

so what do you do, when your empire— your life, your comfort, your power and status— rests upon illogical (and genocidal!) bullshit, and ‘god wants us to do this’ is sort of losing its societal oomph as bougie intellectualism becomes the newest mode of empire.

you make up new and even dumber race science, baby. it’s okay to keep a boot on the neck of basically the entire global south when science says they fucking looooove boot leather and anyway they're all like children and prone to criminality so really this is the kindest and best thing to do for them, and that the shape of their head is how you can be sure of that.

ofmd using phrenology is a very pointed middle finger to the whole ugly process, and i want to buy everybody on the team flowers.

aaaaand favorite joke i haven't mentioned yet. i'm gonna go with the whole DO THE PUPPET VOICE scene, especially since it culminates in nathan doing hilarious fucking improv and now i can say 'AND ME LEGS ARE STICKS" to myself and laugh forever.

#this was not meant to be this long AND THEN #okay now coffee then more tldr

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chubbytummy · 3 years ago

Text

(first official post!!! pls enjoy and support!!! sorry in advance for any typos! T^T)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡✰ 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✰♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

synopsis:

(bts taehyung-seokjin centric)

taehyung has never had the best eating habits, indulging in junk food to his heart's content. what happens when it finally catches up with him, and his roommate/crush happens to notice?

tw: weight gain, mild feederism, eructo, mentions of past abusive relationships, mentions of insecurity, language, slight nsfw (barely)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡

☆

♡

it was no secret to anyone around him that taehyung, as sweet as he was, gave absolutely no fucks about his eating habits. that was one thing he would tell you straight off the bat, and he was completely shameless about them too. if it was yummy, it was yummy. and if it was yummy, he was going to eat it. life was short, and wasn't the point of life to enjoy yourself and be happy?

that's what taehyung believed, anyway.

taehyung wasn't shy by nature; a social butterfly, if you will. he loved making new friends, chatting, and bringing people out of their shell. he was naturally charismatic and funny, and with the added-luxury of movie star looks, a deep and sultry voice, and a great physique, he always had a group of buddies around him. that's just how he was. he loved making people smile and laugh, enjoying the warmth and love that radiated off of those close to him. so, as it seemed, taehyung's life was a blissful stream of joy. he didn't have a care in the world, especially about his food.

that was until he graduated highschool and went off to college. you see, taehyung was quite athletic in highschool. participating in track and field and being in dance with his best friend, jimin, gave him plenty of, if not excessive exercise to burn off all those calories he consumed throughout the day. perhaps he was able to get away with his atrocious eating habits back then. however, there was a teeny problem. now, taehyung wasn't pursuing athletics or dance in college-- he was majoring in fine arts. that meant he wasn't getting the amount of exercise his body was used to. turns out, he didn't have as fast of a metabolism like he'd falsely believed, he just did a lot of cardio. so, factoring together the absence of any exercise (minus walks to classes and to the fridge), no changes in his diet, and the constant late-night junk food binges, things quickly started to add up.

literally.

it started with his cheeks. taehyung had been thin, bordering underweight, most of his life, so of course the little bit of newfound plumpness to his face would be noticable. yet, despite his soulmate's comments over 2 am facetimes saying "jesus, taetae, you look so young! drop the skin care routine, bestie," taehyung didn't see the changes. his cheeks poofed out and softened like freshly baked bread, and they always seemed to be puffy, like he'd just woken up. well, he had been taking a lot of naps lately, maybe that's why? he didn't really care, anyways.

the next noticable change was his hips, thighs, and ass. not only was taehyung blessed with a face sculpted by the gods, he also had a body to die for. if there's any higher power, they CLEARLY pick favourites. with a slim, trim waist and a naturally curvy figure, the weight gain only accentuated his hourglass shape. his hips widened generously, thighs thickened like heavy cream, and ass plumped out lusciously, filling up any seat he sat on to the brim and earning him more whistles and lustful stares then he was already receiving. yet, despite the constant catcalling from other students on campus, and the snugness of his pants, taehyung remained oblivious to his altered form.

the final shift in taehyung's appearance settled itself softly on his midsection. although he'd never had chiseled, drool-worthy abs like his new friend jungkook, who practically lived at the campus fitness center, his stomach had always been completely flat. now, it had softened entirely; he had a bit of a tummy. it wasn't very noticeable, at first, due to his knack for wearing baggy clothes, but it began to show over time. it was chubby and pudgy, and spilled over the waistband of his pants when he sat down. his belly was fluffy like the stuffing of a teddy bear, the surface doughy, as if you could sink your hand into it and leave behind a handprint. it was even more noticeable after he'd eaten. taehyung always bloated terribly. whether he'd had a bellyache, gas, or had just eaten something rather filling, his tummy always swelled up and pushed over his pantline and into his shirt. as well, love handles began to form, curling around his middle and warmly hugging his sides.

he was by no means overweight, but he wasn't exactly skinny anymore. he was softer, warmer around the edges. it suited him.

strangely enough, taehyung hadn't really noticed. besides a passing comment from a loved one, or a short-lived "hmm, that's new," in front of the bathroom mirror before dashing off to an already-late-to lecture, taehyung was pretty ignorant.

but how long can you ignore such a growing issue?

♡

☆

♡

leaning back and gazing up at the tile ceiling, taehyung sighed. he was currently in his friend jungkook's tiny dorm, sitting on his bed and waiting for his roommate, hoseok, to return with pizza. he really hoped he'd hurry up already. his belly was growling like it was angry with him. it was getting kinda scary.

"i really don't know, jungkook-ah, he's just... ugh." he mopplingly prompted his chubby cheeks in his hands and huffed.

"what do you mean you don't know, hyung?" jungkook asked crossing his beefy arms and shooting his friend a skeptical look. "you're like... the hottest and most outgoing guy i know. how haven't you scored a date with him yet?"

the "him" in question was taehyung's new roommate, seokjin. well, he wasn't exactly new. he'd been his roommate for over 5 months now, since his last roommate dropped out. yet, honestly, taehyung didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing that worldwide-handsome face in the same vicinity as him everyday. that would always be a shocker, no matter how many times they saw one another.

having a crush was new for taehyung. to put it bluntly, he knew he was good-looking. he definitely wasn't conceited or snobbish about his natural attractiveness, he honestly didn't care about looks. however, he was used to having a secret admirer or two, and unfortunately had to let many people down with his unrequited feelings. he never had any romantic attraction for anyone, even if he knew he was bisexual. in fact, romance really didn't play a role in his life. taehyung liked to paint, watch cartoons, eat snacks and play videogames. he chose friends and food over chasing after boys and girls. he hadn't even watched porn before, that's how uninterested in sex and relationships he was. call him immature or weird, but romance just didn't do much for him. it seemed boring. why would people waste there time on a silly boyfriend or girlfriend when they could be having fun? it just didn't make sense to him.

that was until he met his roommate. now, that was all he could think about. well, besides school and food, that is.

"that's rich coming from you, mr. i have muscles and a six-pack and tattoos and a fucking eyebrow piercing but i'm still too shy to even talk to jisoo." taehyung shot back with a smirk.

at that, jungkook flushed completely. it was true, despite being a 5 course meal plus desert, jungkook was the shyest person taehyung had ever met. he didn't have many friends besides taehyung, his roommate, hoseok, and hoseok's boyfriend. and the latter was just a friend of circumstances. the younger man also couldn't even look a girl in the eyes without blushing profusely and damn near pissing himself from nervousness. jungkook had a slight lisp and an occasional stutter as well, but taehyung found it quite endearing and sweet.

"t-that's not the point, hyung, and you know it!" jungkook replied hastily, still blushing. "why don't you just tell him how you feel? you've been pining after this dude for months!"

taehyung sighed heavily, the sigh morphing into a deep groan.

"because i literally don't know how! jin-hyung isn't going to take my confession seriously if i just say it! he's already rejected half the campus! he needs a gesture! some bold statement," taehyung explained in an exasperated manner, not caring if he was kinda rambling. "he deserves more than some half-hearted bullshit. i have to find a way to catch his attention, something to show him i'm different than the others. that i'm not just another idiot underclassmen trying to win him over! i just don't know what-!"

taehyung took a deep breath, ending his rant. he was beginning to feel upset, having a tendency to work himself up easily. he took a moment to collect himself, or at least try, and looked at the younger expectantly.

"don't look at me like that, hyung." he said after a moment, watching warily as taehyung took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "you know what you gotta do, so do it." he shrugged, still observing his friend. "leth' talk about something else, okay?" jungkook suggested, not wanting his hyung to get anymore upset.

before taehyung could protest, there was a knock at the door.

"that must be hobi-hyung." jungkook spoke, getting up to let his dormmate in. taehyung stayed seated.

as the elder entered the room, the heavenly aroma of pizza followed, wafting around the dorm and into taehyung's nose. his mouth watered. pizza was the perfect comfort food. it always made him feel sated and happy. he could never get tired of it.

"hey tae-ah, i didn't know you would be here!" hoseok beamed, as he brought the pizza boxes over and placed them on the table. "how are you?"

"stressed and hungry."

hobi laughed loudly, his sunshine-like smile lighting up the room. taehyung always liked him. he was sweet, funny, and very handsome. he had a slim build, was a hip-hop dancer, and taehyung had seen his abs before. he'd be jealous if he cared about looks.

"aren't we all?" he joked, before he turned around and looked back at the still open door. "aish, yoongi-hyung, get your ass in here already!"

a low, "i'm coming, fuck off," emitted from beyond the threshold, before hoseok's boyfriend entered the room with a goofy grin and cases of beer and soda in his arms.

looking up at him, taehyung was taken aback.

the last time he'd seen yoongi, at least long enough to get a decent look at him, he'd been skinny. not just skinny, but nearly malnourished looking. his face had been gaunt and he was tiny in comparison to a healthy body. a good wind could have knocked him over. that was months ago. the yoongi he saw now looked quite different. he was filled out, his cheeks plumped and colored as apposed to pale and lifeless like before. his midsection as well, was that a belly? small, yes, but it was there. he looked so much... different. he wondered why.

taehyung had heard about relationship weight many times, and had seen it first-hand as well. when someone gets into a safe and loving relationship, they naturally gain weight. hoseok had opened up to jungkook and taehyung a few times, admitting that yoongi had been in an abusive relationship in the past. however, he was in a healthy one with hoseok now. honestly, it warmed taehyung's heart to see the once frail and sad-looking boy happy and healthy-looking.

it made him wonder if he would ever find a relationship like that. would he put on weight as well? probably not. his metabolism was way too fast, anyways.

"i brought some beer, jungkook don't drink it all this time." yoongi grunted, setting the packs by the desk and plopping down next to his boyfriend on his bed. "oh, taehyung's here. good thing we bought too much pizza."

the others chuckled. taehyung cocked a brow and frowned slightly. what was that supposed to mean?

"i'm starving." jungkook stated to no one in particular, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and a can of beer. taehyung wouldn't be having any alcohol, though, because it always made his cholinergic urticaria act up, and he wasn't in the mood for an itchy rash. besides, he liked soda much more.

"i thought you were on a diet, kookie-ah!" hoseok fake scolded. jungkook scoffed playfully.

"it's called bulking, hyung." he joked. everyone knew he rarely let himself eat like this. he was extremely disciplined. taehyung might've been jealous. "and what about you? thought you were on a diet!"

"i am." the elder replied. "this is all i'm eating. i've still got that dance competition next week- yah! yoongi, don't get sauce on my sheets, you pig!"

he swatted weakly at the mint-haired boy, who nudged him in return and rolled his eyes. it made taehyung smile.

"you can have some too, taehyung-ah." hoseok spoke after a bit. it was then taehyung realized he hadn't gotten any yet. "i know how much you like pizza."

once again, another comment.

"i mean, i don't like it that much." he mumbled, grabbing a slice and and taking a bite. he knew he was bluffing. pizza was the best.

jungkook snorted.

"bullshit tae, you almost always eat an entire pizza whenever we hang out!"

it was true. on an empty stomach, he could scarf down a whole pizza. more if he was especially hungry.

he decided not to reply, finishing his first slide and heading for a second. sinking his teeth into the slice, he all but moaned. it was supreme pizza, his favorite.

"honestly, i have no idea where he puts it all." the redhead commented, finishing up his slice. that was all he'd probably eat, seeing as he's on a diet and all.

"i-i do!" jungkook teased, stuttering slightly from the excitement. "he puth' it all right here."

suddenly, taehyung felt a finger poke his belly. he froze. he looked down to see jungkook's tattooed pointer finger sunk into his plush middle.

"wow, taehyung-hyung." the younger softly exclaimed. "i didn't know your tummy was this squishy."

taehyung felt himself blushing. not out of embarrassment, but something else. jungkook was still touching his belly.

"no way, let me feel!" hoseok reached over, but all too late. taehyung swatted them away and curled into himself, arms wrapped firmly around his middle.

"don't! i'm ticklish!" he lied. yes, he was ticklish, but that's not why he didn't want them to feel his stomach.

it was a strange sensation, really...

♡

☆

♡

a pizza and a 2L of soda later, taehyung felt warm and fuzzy and full.

hoseok and yoongi had left for yoongi's dorm. taehyung was assuming they wanted some alone time, and he knew yoongi had his own private dorm. he didn't want to think about what they'd do, though. ew, just... ew.

taehyung leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling sated. he gently patted his taut tummy and let out a deep burp, sighing afterwards. that was another thing he was shameless about. if he had to burp, he always just let it out. leaving the trapped gas in his belly only made it hurt, so he didn't hold back. besides, it felt good and it was only natural. he usually didn't even say "excuse me." he didn't understand why he had to. everyone burped; why excuse yourself for something completely normal? unlike jungkook, who'd probably die from humiliation, taehyung wasn't shy about it. the only person he'd be even remotely embarrassed in front of was seokjin, but that's a different story.

"mmm, that was yummy, kookie. i'm stuffed."

jungkook was drinking another beer, beyond drunk by now. he mumbled something incoherent, followed by a hiccup and a groan.

"aw kookie, are you drunk?" taehyung teased, ruffling the maknae's soft, black hair. the younger grumbled again. "tired, little guy? let's get you to sleep, bun."

gently, taehyung guided the nearly-passed-out jungkook's head to the pillow of his bed.

"sleep well, bun." he whispered sweetly, leaving a feather-light kiss on the younger's forehead. he'd probably have to stop by tomorrow morning to take care of him when he woke up with a hangover. he was bound to have a killer one with all the beer he guzzled down, and taehyung knew hoseok didn't do well with vomit. he didn't mind, however. taehyung loved to take care of his friends, anyways.

before he left, taehyung cleaned up, ate the last couple pieces the boys left, and did some of the dishes for them. he also really needed to pee, so he made a quick trip to the bathroom.

once he'd gone and washed his hands, he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror.

i looked really good today, taehyung thought, peering into the mirror and adjusting his gold-framed glasses. despite being quite handsome, he still felt insecure sometimes, especially as of lately. with some of the comments his friends had been making, he wasn't sure what to think. it was almost as if there was some kind of big joke, and he was the only one who wasn't in on it. he really didn't know.

before taehyung could turn away and exit the small bathroom, his eyes caught something in the corner, by the shower.

a scale.

he had forgotten that jungkook did weight training. it was probably his to keep track of that. or maybe it was hoseok's, since he was on a diet and all. it didn't matter. it shouldn't matter.

however, for some reason, he wanted to try it. knowing your weight couldn't hurt, right? it's just a number, anyways. besides, he was curious.

taehyung pulled the digital scale out and stepped on it, waiting patiently for the box to calculate his weight. it couldn't be too much. he was thin, after all.

looking down, his eyes widened.

78.1kg.

he blinked.

huh. so that's how much he weighed.

the last time taehyung had been properly weighed was his physical exam before freshman year. that was nearly a year ago. he was so thin, weighing in at 60.3 kg. since then, he'd gained roughly 17.8 kg.

wait a minute, that couldn't be right, could it? but he had a fast metabolism! not to mention, he's fairly active. well... sometimes. but he does do a lot of walking! something had to be wrong.

taehyung stepped off the scale, allowing it to level back to a clear screen. he then stepped back on.

78.1kg.

this didn't seem possible. maybe it's because of his clothes. maybe he needed to strip down to his underwear like when he had a checkup at the doctor's. quickly, taehyung peeled off his corduroy pants and baggy sweater, leaving him in his undies and tata-themed socks.

what? they were cute!

standing back on the digital scale, taehyung peered down at the number expectantly.

it was the same, the clothes only weighing a little.

maybe it was all the food he just ate, or maybe he had to use the toilet? but that doesn't explain all those kilos...

he placed himself back on the ground, dumbfounded. how did he manage to put on that much? that was like the freshman 15 (lbs) tripled!

taehyung sighed lowly, before turning to face the mirror.

in just his undies, and for the first time since freshman year, taehyung noticed his body.

his thighs were thick, clinging together like chunky glue. gentle stretch marks adorned the insides, which weren't new, seeing as he's always been a bit thicker than his peers growing up. however, they were more prominent. spinning around, he viewed his ass, which giggled almost lewdly with the slight movement. the plump, golden globes looked even plumper than they had. he had always had an ass, but now? he could probably play a pixar mom in a live-action film.

last, but certainly not least, his eyes settled on the most obvious change: his stomach. his tummy hung over the waistband of his underwear, extremely bloated and round from his big dinner and all the soda he drank. yet, despite being stuffed with pizza, it had softness to it. taehyung ran his hands over his belly, pinching the excess pudge. it wasn't too big, but it was noticable. more than noticable.

taehyung wasn't skinny anymore. he had gotten a bit chubby.

and, strangely enough, he didn't care. infact, he liked it.

taehyung knew he ate a lot of unhealthy foods, that was just who he was. why would he deny himself all the yummy things he liked to eat, just to maintain an "attractive" body? so what he wasn't slim like hoseok or muscular and shredded like jungkook? his body was perfectly fine. it did it's job, and that was the important thing.

above all things, taehyung was shameless. having gained weight didn't mean a thing to him. he was an artist, after all, not a model. his figure really didn't matter in the long run. he was still the same handsome guy, just with a little extra chub. and, honestly, he wondered what he'd look like with just a little bit more. just another layer of cream on his body. he's sure he'd like it, especially with how he reacted to having his tummy poked earlier by jungkook.

so, with the new information tucked in the back of his mind, taehyung dressed and left the small bathroom, making his way out of his sleeping friend's dorm. after double checking on jungkook and leaving the wastebasket beside his bed, just in case he woke up sick, the fluffy-haired boy exited the dorm and began his walk down the hallway, back to his own dorm.

after eating, taehyung usually felt sleepy, so it was no surprise to him that he found himself growing sluggish and drowsy as he strode back to his room. it was a pleasant feeling, really. he'd probably take a nice nap when he got back. maybe make some hot chocolate and catch up on some dramas. yeah, that sounded nice.

as he opened the door to his dorm, he was met with a flush of warmth and soft light. faint music played in the background, and a scent immediately met his nose as he stepped in. it smelled delightful. that could only mean one thing.

taehyung hadn't expected seokjin to be home so early. he wished he'd known; he'd like to have put more time into his appearance. welp, baggy sweater and messy-haired taehyung would have to do.

"ah, tae! you're home!" he heard seokjin call from the stove as he shucked off his loafers. he suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right as seokjin walked up to him, all broad-shouldered and stupidly handsome. "how was your day?"

taehyung smiled as seokjin went in for a gentle hug, sinking into his warm embrace and inhaling his calming scent. seokjin was a real hugger, which taehyung appreciated because he, himself, was an absolute cuddle monster and jumped for any physical affection. it didn't help the butterflies in his stomach, however. he'd hope to just digest them already and move on from this silly crush.

"my day was a happy one, thank you," taehyung replied, nearly pouting as seokjin pulled away from the embrace. "how was your's, hyung?"

"better now that you're here." the elder smiled warmly, and taehyung felt his face heat up. seokjin always knew the right things to say to get his heart racing like mad. "come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while i cook?"

the younger nodded timidly, feeling pleasantly small next to his hyung. he followed him like a puppy to the dorm kitchenette, taking a seat at the small bar table.

"so," seokjin began, as he stirred a pot of glass noodles, keeping an eye on the vegetables and pork strips in the frying pan. he was making japchae, one of taehyung's favorite dishes. "have you eaten dinner yet?"

"oh, i ate pizza at jungkook and hoseok-hyung's place," he answered, hand going instinctively to his still-bloated tum, giving it a fond pat. "truth be told, i probably overate." he let out an uneasy chuckle in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth growing in his lower belly. what was happening to him?

seokjin waved him off.

"there's no such thing as overeating if it tastes good," he countered, and before taehyung could understand what was going on, a steaming plate of japchae was placed in front of him. it was a heaping serving, the small plate only making it look bigger. "here, have some of this."

taehyung flushed, gingerly sliding the plate away.

"um, i-i shouldn't, hyung," he stammered, hand still on his middle, almost defensively, as if he were guarding it. "thank you, but i'm still pretty stuffed."

seokjin chuckled deeply, full lips curled into a smirk. he pushed the dish back in front of him. taehyung gulped.

"taehyung-ah, i've seen you demolish three times this and more in one sitting. i'm not exactly convinced that 'stuffed' is in your vocabulary."

there it was. another comment about his eating habits. however, this time, instead of irritation, he felt something... else.

"jin-hyung, i-"

"you wouldn't let all my hard work go to waste, would you?" seokjin questioned, pouting. taehyung felt his heart jump. "i made this all just for you."

"well... alright. i'll have a bite or... two." taehyung finally spoke, unable to look his hyung in the eye. picking up the pair of chopsticks, he hesitantly began to eat.

it was delicious. of course it would be.

in all his time, taehyung had never met as good a cook as seokjin. not even his own mother --who could whip up a mean bibimbap like nobody's business-- could compare to his skills. the younger male couldn't even count on two hands how many times he's had his belly nearly bursting out of his pants from seokjin's cooking. whatever it was he was making, taehyung was sure to gorge himself to new heights every time; now was only proof of that. seokjin didn't seem to mind. infact, he encouraged it.

"taste good?" the elder quizzed, taking a seat in front of the eating boy and gazing at him fondly, if not a bit intently.

taehyung took a moment to finish chewing his mouthful and swallow. he grinned.

"amazing," he answered, licking his lips. "your cooking always is the best, hyung. it's, like, ethereal."

seokjin let out his iconic windshield wiper laugh, which only made his dongsaeng giggle.

"well, if it's good enough to pull out the 50 cent words for," be mused, leaning a tad closer. "then it's good enough to finish, yeah?"

taehyung's smile faded, as he peered up at the taller man wordlessly.

"you know i don't like leftovers, taehyung-ah. scrape your plate. clean."

he didn't have to tell taehyung twice. something about the subtle command in his tone --the sprinkle of dominance within the seemingly innocent words-- sparked a flame that licked into taehyung's belly.

he continued to eat, and before he could really process anything, his chopsticks clinked against an empty plate. instantly, a crimson heat spread over his face. it was as if he were a different person for a moment.

"all done?" seokjin questioned, taking the plate from the boy as he nodded sheepishly. "good job, tae-ah! you did so well!"

taehyung felt his pants become tighter at his elder's words of encouragement.

"feeling full?"

taehyung's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"i-" a burp interrupted him. he stayed quiet for a moment, hand covering his mouth, before he spoke up again. "excuse me, sorry."

he was blushing like mad. shameless taehyung who?

seokjin snorted. "guess that answers my question."

the slight teasing only increased the tightness of his pants, though he remained oblivious.

to say taehyung was full was a gross understatement. he'd passed the limitations for being full. he felt like if he moved even an inch he'd explode, literally. he looked 7 months pregnant.

"jin-hyung," he began with a taut hiccup, a slight whine to his voice. "i think... i think i ate too much."

and there it was, the rarer side of shameless taehyung. the one who needed affection after overdoing it, and wasn't afraid to beg for it.

"aw, you poor thing," his hyung cooed, helping the younger stand. his belly felt heavy and stuffed to the brim. "let's get you to the couch yeah? how's some hot chocolate sound? sound nice?"

taehyung nodded and hummed, blissed out from the tight fullness. he'd never felt this way from just eating before.

he took a seat on the couch as seokjin scurried off to make hot chocolate, and he used the opportunity to unbutton his pants. although he wasn't exactly too keen on being so unkempt in front of his love interest, his pants were digging into his bloated stomach something fierce. slowly, he undid the buttons and pulled down the zipper, freeing and allowing his tummy to rest atop. he sighed in relief, though it was short-lived when he noticed the slight bulge in his pants. well, that's new?

wait a minute--

oh fuck.

he frantically attempted to pull his sweater down to cover his lower region, but it was too snug around his plush middle to budge much. thankfully, it wasn't entirely noticable.

"here you go, taebear," seokjin said as he walked back into the small living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hand. one of them had tata all over it: you can guess whose it is. "careful, it's hot. let it cool before you drink it."

taehyung nodded bashfully in reply as the older of the two turned the tv on, switching the channel to some random drama taehyung had seen bits of but couldn't remember the name of. when jin sat down next to him, he immediately snuggled up to his side, head on his broad shoulder.

this. this was heaven right here.

seokjin smiled sweetly, arm wrapping around the younger. his fingers carded through taehyung's fluffy brown hair, earning a quiet sigh and pleased noises from the latter. taehyung's eyes fluttered shut as his scalp was scratched lightly.

soon enough, after finishing his hot chocolate, he felt himself grow drowsy. his belly felt warm and heavy, rising with every deep breath he took.

just as he had nearly dosed off, he felt something warm slip under his sweater and dance against his stomach. it felt like a hand.

he sighed. he must have been dreaming.

slowly, the palm of the hand traced over his swollen tummy, fingers ghosting over his navel. he all but purred at the feeling.

it began to rub circular motions onto the bloated skin with a gentle pressure, releasing a few soft burps from taehyung, who mewled at the lovely sensation. he began to fall deeper into slumber, the warm feeling being the last thing he could remember before he completely fell sound asleep.

when taehyung awoke, he was in his own room, in his own bed. he was under the blankets, glasses neatly placed on the bedside table. yawning, he looked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

had he been dreaming this whole time?

placing a hand on his middle, he was shocked to feel how bloated and round it was.

nope. it was all real.

and it felt completely, utterly, shamelessly good.

♡

☆

♡

"hey hobi-hyung, what's up?" taehyung spoke into the receiver of his phone after answering hoseok's call. he was currently working on an oil painting while munching on the oreos he'd bought at the campus snack venue on his way home.

"hey tae," he heard a strained voice answer. someone was in the background coughing. "could-" hoseok was cut off by what sounded like a particularly loud heave "ugh. could you do me a solid, tae. i'll pay you back, i promise."

and just like that, taehyung was on his way over to jungkook and hoseok's dorm. he'd debated bringing his painting with him, but eventually decided against the idea. he didn't want to make sick jungkook even sicker, nor did he want hoseok to complain about him stinking up the dorm with his paint.

the second he opened the door, hoseok rushed out.

"thanks a million, taehyung," he spoke frantically, clearly frazzled but trying to stay calm, though it was evident he was hanging on by a thread. "i hate to do this to you but you know how i am."

taehyung gave him a reassuring smile.

"hobi-hyung don't worry, it's alright! i don't mind!" he explained, placing a hand on his hyung's shoulder. "how's he doing?"

hoseok closed his eyes.

"ugh, he's just... ugh."

taehyung laughed and shook his head.

"aish, i told that dummy not to drink so much," he playfully face-palmed, giggling. "alright hyungie, head over to yoongi-hyung's. i'll take it from here."

hoseok sighed a breath of relief.

"you're a little saint, you know that, taetae?"

he pinched taehyung's full cheeks, kissing his forehead before rushing off. taehyung blushed and giggled to himself softly.

hoseok was really something else.

upon entering his friend's shared dorm and turning on the light, his eyes instantly landed on jungkook, who looked like he'd seen better days.

"taehyung?" he heard the younger croak from his bed, eyes squinted nearly shut. "shit, kill the lights will you, please?"

taehyung quickly flicked the switch off.

"oh, sorry kookie-ah," taehyung apologized, making his way in the dim room to the bed, where he sat.

"it's alright hyung, my head is just absolutely murdering me right now."

"feeling pretty bad, aren't we, bun?" taehyung murmured softly, rubbing the younger's back tenderly.

"god, 'm never fucking drinking again."

taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. he knew that was a lie; he'd probably be in the same position next weekend taking care of the hungover boy.

"okay, bun," he replied, fondly. "can i get you anything? painkillers, perhaps?"

jungkook shook his head, instantly wincing at the movement.

"no i already took some before you came." he answered. "could you just hold me for a bit, please?" his doe eyes found taehyung's gaze in the dark.

the elder boy swallowed back an 'awwww' as he laid down on the bed, taking the sick boy into his arms. he ran his fingers through the younger's silky, black hair. jungkook sighed.

"thanks, hyungie." jungkook mumbled into taehyung's warm chest. "you're the best."

a soft smile melted onto taehyung's lips. the two boys sat in a quiet trance for a while, the only sound being breathing and the hum of the ac. after some time had passed, jungkook broke the silence.

"um, hyungie?"

"what is it, bun?" taehyung replied, looking down at the boy.

"i-i um..." he began, stuttering from what taehyung assumed was nervousness. his stutter always worsened when he was nervous, the elder noticed. "i'm s-s-sorry about what i said yesterday."

taehyung haulted his movements, cocking a brow in confusion.

"what are you talking about, jungkook?"

"yes'therday," he paused to grimace at his lisp, before going on, "with hobi-hyung and yoongi-hyung." jungkook responded anxiously. "i-i shouldn't have c-commented on your body or how much you eat like that. if someone had made a comment about m-m-my stutter or lisp, i'd have been sad. it wasn't cool of me to point out an insecurity like that. i'm- i'm sorry." his voice broke a tad at the last part, though taehyung nearly didn't catch it.

taehyung blinked, taking a moment to process his dongsaeng's confession.

"okay, kookie, three things," taehyung replied after some thought, returning to stroking the boy's hair. "one: it's alright, don't worry about it. i'm definitely not upset with you, honey. two: your stutter and lisp are perfectly fine. they make you unique, make you you, so don't be embarrassed about how you talk, and don't take shit from absolutely anyone about it. got it?"

jungkook nodded, eyes still glassy.

taehyung smiled and continued.

"and three: what makes you think i'm insecure about my body?"

jungkook froze for a moment, clearly trying to conjure up an answer that wouldn't hurt his hyung's feelings.

"um..."

"is it because i'm chubby?"

jungkook didn't say anything, causing taehyung to sigh audibly.

"i have no reason to be insecure about my body, you know, jungkook?" taehyung calmly retorted, not in a mean or scolding manner, but in a blunt one. "i love my body. my tummy's job is to digest the food i eat and convert it to energy. that's it, and he's doing a pretty good job at it. so, therefore, i have no real reason to be insecure, and i'm not. a little tummy fat never hurt anyone."

jungkook looked up to gaze at his hyung.

"so, it didn't hurt your feelings when i t-touched your belly, then?" he asked, voice still slightly broken. taehyung wiped the stray tears from his dongsaeng's cheeks.

"of course not, kookie-ah," the older boy reassured, lips spreading into a grin. "in fact... i liked it."

jungkook went stiff.

"u-um... i-i'm flattered, hyung, i really am... b-but i like girls..."

taehyung let out a deep, rumbly laugh.

"don't be silly, bun!" he teased, still chuckling. "i wasn't talking about you! i wouldn't date your lame ass anyways, even if you did like guys!"

this earned him a playful slap.

"but you did... like it?" jungkook questioned after a comfortable silence.

taehyung nodded a bit stiffly.

"yeah, i... i guess i did." he admitted. "to be honest... i wouldn't mind if seokjin touched m- woah! sorry about the tmi! literally forget i said that, please. like, erase it from your memory."

taehyung flushed in embarrassment as jungkook burst out laughing.

"yah, don't make fun of me! i'll kick your ass you little shit!"

despite the teasing, taehyung definitely wouldn't mind if seokjin touched his belly. infact, he'd fucking love it.

and, well... this all was... new. he'd like to explore this more in the future.

however, little did taehyung know, he wasn't the only one with a bit of experimentation in mind.

♡

☆

♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

hi!! hope you enjoyed this!! maybe a part 2?? please let me know what you think!! love you!!

~ jelly ૮ᴖﻌᴖა

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

#bts feederism #feeder kink #eructo #bts emeto #fantasy feeder #feedist #bts sickfic #feeder series #feederisn

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paisley-print · 3 years ago

Text

Near The Water’s Edge: Chapter One

After fleeing your abusive husband, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you 're forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

Inspired by the novel “Safe Haven” written by Nicolas Sparks.

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ / Heavy adult themes eventual smut.

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Drowning, Dark Water.

Word Count: 1744

Note: I tagged everyone who liked the original posts. To stay on the permanent list please either send me a message or write it on the post. Enjoy <3

Series Master List

Chapter One

Aggressively American, that was the only fitting description of the place you found yourself in. July was a coastal town located in the southern part of North Carolina. It was pronounced like ‘Julie’ but nobody ever called it that. It had been the farthest place your two hundred dollars in cash could take you; and as the greyhound pulled away, you wondered if you should have chosen Nebraska instead.

It wasn’t that the town was dirty, quite the opposite actually...it just felt manufactured. Too perfect to be real. The streets were named things like Liberty and Independence. The shop fronts were brick and all along the main street there were American flags and flower pots holding red, white and blue geraniums.

The name Norman Rockwell came to mind.

As you walked along the main street, you surveyed the many shopfronts. To a passerby it seemed as though you were looking to buy something - in your mind, however, your thoughts were racing.

‘I made a mistake, I know I did.’ You analyzed the last few hours, replaying the memories over and over again as if on VHS; scrutinizing every last detail. ‘He would track me down, find me - by morning. Should I go back? No- it was too late for that.’

It was still early in the afternoon, but finding a place to sleep tonight was paramount. The trip had taken eleven hours straight through. Only ever stopping to change buses and refuel - you were exhausted and your muscles ached.

‘Food,’ you thought ‘I should eat…’

But did you have enough? Depending on how much a motel cost around here, you figured you would only have enough to cover a room for one night. So food would have to wait.

As you rounded a corner, you were met with the sight of the bay. It wasn’t anything like the brown water in New Jersey, the water here was a deep green. The boats created little swells along the surface, and the sun’s glint off the peaks made it look like the water was filled with emeralds.

On the left side of the street stood a marina and dockside restaurant. The smell of food made your stomach grumble. On the right side was a series of Victorian style houses, stone pillars and large porches dominated the structures.

A sign in front of one had caught your attention: American Dreams B&B.

‘Jesus’ you thought ‘they’re really leaning into this whole aesthetic aren’t they?’

A bell on the front door chimed as you entered. The decor of the place looked dated; as if it hadn’t been touched since the 80s. Lots of wood tones and floral patterns. You didn’t mind it though…. it made you feel at home.

An older woman was sitting at the front desk watching a soap opera on a little TV perched on the counter. She looked up and smiled as you approached.

“Hello there. How can I help you today?”

“Do you have any rooms open?”

“Sure do, we have three vacancies right now.”

Relief washed over you, “what’s the nightly rate for the smallest?”

“That would be the pink room at $175 a night.”

More than you had anticipated…. “All take it, thank you.”

The woman turned to the computer. The monitor was old and heavy- it looked bigger than the TV. “Driver’s license?”

You hadn’t even thought of that… “I don’t have one, would a birth certificate work?”

You cringed at the sound of it. Who carries around a birth certificate as identification? It was all you had, so you gave it to her, however you knew that the odd request made you stick out in the woman’s mind. Surely she would remember you if someone came asking…

The woman hesitated but took the certificate, reading it out loud “Summer Emma Sparks.”

You swallowed hard and shifted on your feet, feeling sick. The circumstances surrounding how you secured the certificate flooding your mind...

‘I needed it,’ you remind yourself.

The woman, whose name you found out to be Mae, handed you a key and sent you on your way. Now the plan would be to look for a job, something that worked off of tips. Having as much cash available to take with you at a moment’s notice was important. First, though, you would sleep.

And as the tide lapped against the boat dock across the street, you slipped into the darkest, soundest slumber you had in years. You were safe for the time being.

There was something to be said about the little joys surrounding small town life. In New Jersey neighbors barely knew each other, and would even go so far as to avert their eyes or turn their backs when passing them on the street. Here though, people were kind.

Too kind sometimes, always pressing you with questions...you couldn’t fault them for it though. If you were here under normal circumstances, you would have welcomed such friendly chatter. It almost pained you to be so dismissive, but you needed to be, for your safety and theirs. The less anybody knows about you, the better.

You set down a tray of empty cups and looked at the clock on the wall, debating whether to take another table. Even though your shift technically didn’t end for another twenty minutes, most of the night servers were already here and the day had been long.

You managed to get a job at the restaurant next to the marina on your second day in town. The owner suggested you start the following weekend, but you persuaded him to let you train that day just so you could get the free meal that they provided with every shift. The tips weren’t enough to buy a hotel room though, and so you had to sleep on the beach that night.

Thankfully, the tips for the last few days had been good, allowing you to buy a week in the bed-and-breakfast. Most of the servers at the restaurant were teenagers who could only work the evenings, allowing you to take as many morning and afternoon shifts as you wanted. Sometimes there would be another server with you, but most days you were alone. You didn’t mind one bit, the dining room was small and easy for you to handle by yourself.

You had your eye on a few rental properties on the far side of town. A mobile home community offering one bedroom complexes for dirt cheap prices. You were suspicious at first, but after taking a walk through the neighborhood you realized most of the people who lived there were snowbirds or weekend warriors.

Those residents who did live their full time seemed like you, friendly people who had fallen on bad times. They weren’t the confederate flag wielding, dip spitting, rednecks you first thought they would be; and for that you were thankful.

“Summer….. Summer.”

You turned suddenly, remembering that was your name. “Yeah?”

Your boss was holding two containers of soup “do me a favor and put these in the fridge before you go?”

“Of course,” you said, allowing him to pass the containers off to you.

The fridge was a separate unit out back; it looked like a little shed. From where you were, you could see a full view of the marina. It was set a little farther back than the restaurant. To the left, lines of boats bobbed up and down with the tide. There was a parking lot next to that, then at the very end was a house... or what you assumed was a house.

Elevated about six feet on stilts and spanning two stories high. It wasn’t anything like the grand Victorians that stood opposite of it. It was unassuming, modern and clean. Your eyes fixed on movement off to the side. Below the house to the right, you noticed a little girl. She had to be no more than three years of age, reaching for something over the bulkhead. A feeling of dread clutched at your stomach.

‘She’s going to fall’ you thought suddenly.

Both containers of soup hit the ground and exploded - painting the side of the building. You didn’t even notice as you sprinted down the shelled driveway towards the house. The splash came as soon as you threw open the gate and without even a moment of hesitation; you jumped into the water.

It was freezing, like little needles pricking your skin from all sides. The salt water stung your eyes like something wicked, but you forced yourself to keep them open. You scanned what was around you, murky green darkness and foliage that reached up from the sand like the tendrils of a kraken. Threatening to grab you and pull you down into its watery depths.

Your eyes landed on a flash of pink below. With all of your strength you pushed yourself forward, hooking an arm around the girl and bringing you both to the surface. Just as you broke through the world above, you saw a man skid to a stop and reach for the girl in your arms.

You gasped, and the little girl coughed and hiccuped... then started to cry. It was music to your ears; it meant that she was breathing. You held the girl up as far as possible; the man took her and moved away from the bulkhead.

“Make sure she’s okay,” you choked, the water assaulting your senses. You tread for a moment longer before the man reappeared and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you from the water easily.

Bracing yourself on the bulkhead you brought your weight over the rest of the way. The man immediately turned his attention back to the little girl, bringing her to his chest and clutching her as she wailed.

You blinked, hands coming up to rub the salt from your eyes, the world coming back into focus. The man was older, wearing a navy blue baseball cap and a grey flannel.

His brown eyes still held a spark of panic in them as he looked at you. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough….she was right there, then I turned around and….” He held onto her a little tighter and sighed, closing his eyes. The little girl was settling into a mess of sniffles and whimpers. “Don’t ever do that again, baby,” he breathed.

Tag List For This Chapter Only:

@heythere-mel @aquilacorvinal @krystlebee @pedro-pascal1503 @giizhkens-cedar @luckystrikesalterego @rayofhalsey @almost-golden-again @myheart-pedro @the-cosmic-ghost-18 @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @wwwbackslashcreedthoughts @anabundanceofmeg @petermj213

Permanent Tag List:

@hnt-escape

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #triple frontier #Frankie fanfiction #frankie morales #Frankie Morales fanfic #Frankie Morales fanfiction #pedro fanfic #pedro fanfiction #nearthewater'sedge #frankie has a daughter #its basically canon at this point #so I stuck with it

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chickenmcstucky · 4 years ago

Text

meet me in the hallway

Bucky Barnes x reader

Light angst, fluff || 5.1k

Your bad day gets worse when your less-than-friendly teammate catches you having a breakdown over your shitty morning.

A/N: So this is the second work I’m posting, but actually the first I wrote. Inspired by my own bad morning, lol. Nothing like a little cathartic writing. I’d love feedback!

You had to physically stop your whole body from tapping along with your impatient foot. If you didn’t get out of here and back to your sunny balcony soon, you might actually die of frustration. Sure, the whole sunny day stretched out in front of you, waiting, but it was the principle of the thing. Wasting sun is sacrilege to you. Still, the young woman behind the counter was only doing her job as she gathered your prescription and searched for the coupon you asked for. Why was healthcare so expensive?

As your body cooled from the workout you’d finished just before hopping over to the pharmacy, your thoughts wandered to the lazy hours of writing, tanning, and listening to music you had planned for the day. The team was between missions and somehow the stars aligned and your time off brought gorgeous weather and some much-needed you time. The thought relaxed you as the woman finally rang up your total; as you swiped your card you put your Starbucks order into the app and prepared to finally get home and enjoy your day.

That is, until the card machine gave a deep chirp and the cashier informed you your card wasn’t covering the entire purchase. You balked - how could this happen? The insurance debit was loaded up for the year, ready for any medical purchases. It rarely ran out so early in the year, and it was just April! Your brain scrambled to make sense of it. Had the account rules changed and some of your purchase didn’t qualify? No, that couldn’t be it, you’d done this same process just a few weeks ago.

Your cheeks bloomed with heat as you realized the declined card was the only one you’d brought with you, convinced it would be a quick errand and seeing no reason to bring your whole wallet for the short trip down the street from the Tower. Fuck. And there were people behind you; you shuddered to imagine what they might be thinking of you in your sweaty workout clothes as you stammered to the cashier you’d have to come back. Just fucking great. You felt your good mood at the prospect of a sunny day slipping as you left the store as quickly as you could, trying to save a little face.

***

Making your way around the construction - why did they need to close the entire sidewalk? - you hastily headed back to the Tower to grab your wallet from your personal quarters, wondering all the way how this could happen. Why do the simple things always have to go wrong? Rationally, you knew this wasn’t a big deal. You would just pay the balance out of pocket and deal with the insurance later. But it was embarrassing and annoying and just plain inconvenient. Sure, you had the time and the money to spare, but why couldn’t things just work how they’re meant to? Your swirling thoughts brought you through the private lobby of the Tower and to the elevators that led to the personal floors; angrily jamming the button for your floor, you whipped out your phone to check the balance on the insurance card.

Your jaw literally dropped as your eyes caught sight of the balance. There was more than enough to cover the charge at the store! Now you were really upset. Jesus, why was this happening to you? Stupid, simple nature of the occurrence aside, you felt tears of frustration welling to the surface as you berated yourself internally. Why did you have to be lazy and only take the one card? If you’d just taken your whole wallet and been prepared, you could’ve saved yourself so much humiliation and frustration. And time. You’d brought it on yourself, you always did. Your frustration with the pharmacy and your anger at the insurance company quickly turned to annoyance at yourself and your lackadaisical ways. Why were you like this?

You shoved yourself further into the corner of the elevator, letting your head fall back against the wall as it ascended to the personal floors. You could feel your face was still ripe with embarrassment, your throat thick with unshed tears. God, why did everything have to make you cry? Embarrassment, anger, and frustration brought tears to your eyes more often than not, while sadness rarely wet your eyes. Of course, no one else knew that and you felt like a dramatic cry-baby every time you got teary-eyed in front of your teammates and friends. You were an Avenger, dammit! As the elevator signaled your floor and the doors whooshed open, you could only hope the walk to your room would be deserted. You wanted to make a quick exit before anyone saw your despair.

***

The hope was short-lived. You walked out of the elevator with your gaze on the floor, and smack into a well-muscled chest.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, trying to scoot around the body without making eye contact.

“Walk much?” and if that wasn’t the last voice you wanted to hear. Of course, your card gets declined and you get humiliated to tears, and not only could the universe not provide you a painless return to your apartment, it also brought you face to face with Bucky Barnes. You were hardly in the mood to deal with him on a good day, let alone today. He rarely acknowledged your existence except to quip mockery at you, it seemed. At first you thought he was just like that, but you soon realized he was perfectly funny and friendly with the others, if quiet. So it was something about you; what, you didn’t know. And you’d accepted it. You didn’t need him to like you, honestly. His attitude towards you might have brought you to tearful rages sometimes, but only in the quiet solace of your room where you could freely wonder why he despised you so. His devilish good looks and killer smile didn’t help. Avoiding him was the best strategy.

“Can you just not?” you snapped at him as he blocked your way down the hallway, apparently hellbent on making sure you knew he was making fun of you. As if you weren’t painfully aware of how he felt about you. It didn’t help your girlish crush, the little voice in the back of your head always telling you maybe he was mean because he liked you. Bullshit.

“Whoa there, no need to get in a twist doll. Was just havin’ a little fun is all. What’s got you so worked up?” you heard the teasing lilt to his voice but the question forced your eyes to his anyways. God, the asshole was smirking, those gorgeous blue eyes glinting with mirth. Horrified, you felt tears welling up in your eyes again because the universe liked laughing at you, apparently.

“God Bucky do you ever fuck off? Honestly,” your voice broke on the last word as tears threatened their way out of your glassy eyes. “Just leave me alone, why do you always have to be so mean? What did I ever do to you?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, your anger and hurt getting the better of you.

Realizing your outburst, you floundered in the hallway as Bucky looked at you with a confusing mixture of shock and hurt on his face. Did he really have the audacity to be upset with you? After the way he’s treated you, so often making jokes at your expense? In the back of your head, you knew the jokes weren’t that bad, nothing more than you’d say in a harmless rib against your other teammates. But they were your friends; Bucky was a menace. Not knowing what else to say as the shocked silence stretched on, you averted your eyes from his now stony face and tried to will your tears - and your anger - away so you could get what you came for, finish your errand, and try to salvage the rest of your day. How did things go so wrong so fast?

You didn’t notice as Bucky’s expression morphed from hurt to cocky as he prepared to deliver his next blow.

“Oh, woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning I see, sweetheart.” His smiling tone grated on your nerves - of course he was still making fun of you even after you yelled at him for just that. He couldn’t just be nice, could he?

“At least I sleep in a bed,” you spat, meeting his eyes once more. You knew it was a low blow, immediately regretting it as a pained expression flitted across his face. You sighed - only you could end up feeling guilty for dishing his own mockery back at him after months of his unanswered jibes. “Sorry,” you muttered, your eyes falling closed in shame and frustration at your inability to contain your emotions.

“Yea, okay, I probably deserved that,” you stopped yourself from mocking his ‘probably,’ refusing to dig a deeper hole for yourself, though the eye-roll was unavoidable. “I guess I’ll get out of your way then,” Bucky acquiesced, his voice quieter now.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his flesh arm reach out as if to pat your shoulder, but he jerked it away as if he hadn’t meant it to move. He hesitated as he half-turned away; why wasn’t he leaving, and since when did Bucky get so unsure of himself? Usually he moved with a sure swagger that riled you right up knowing he thought so highly of himself. Of course, you knew he probably didn’t do it on purpose; your inner feelings about someone had always colored your observations of them and Bucky was no exception - sometimes you manufactured your dislike, but it was inescapable. He infuriated you.

Your head swirled with anger, leftover humiliation, shame at your words to Bucky, and confusion at why he was still in the fucking hallway. You stuttered, mouth moving without your permission but no words forming.

Bucky glanced back at you, and your downturned yet clearly turmoiled face brought an unseen soft, caring look to his chiseled face. It hurt him to see you upset, though you were unaware. He didn’t know why his words to you always came out so biting. He knew how to act around the rest of the team but for some reason you brought out his inner turmoil and apparently his coping mechanism was to just make fun of you. Was he protecting himself? But what did his feelings matter when he had so clearly hurt you? His heart broke realizing that your lack of response to his mocking over the weeks wasn’t good-natured but instead was silent hurt. Fuck, he’d fucked up.

“Honey, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” the softness in his voice was so foreign and surprising to you that you jerked your head up, meeting his eyes in shock. “Maybe…I can help,” he gestured awkwardly.

You must’ve pulled a face at that, because his head immediately rolled back as he quipped out, “what, is it so surprising I can be nice?”

“Well…yeah,” you half-whispered, your mouth once more speaking without your mind’s permission. Suddenly you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, your gaze falling anywhere but his soft blues. Once again you felt shame flood through you, even though you had told the truth - it was shocking to see Bucky offer kindness, at least to you. Had you somehow misread him so horribly? Fuck, there were the tears of frustration again. As if you weren’t embarrassed enough, this time a few actually fell, carving their way down your burning cheeks as your breath hitched.

“Shit. Okay, please don’t cry sweet girl, I’m sorry. I know I’m an asshole. I - I don’t -,” he cut off, not knowing how to explain. At his saccharine tone and the pet name - this time caressed with gentleness rather than thrown with cocky disdain - you broke as tears fell down in rivulets, your body wracking with silent sobs. Why were you such a mess today? Sure, you wore your emotions on your sleeve, but even you could control yourself more than this. Bucky’s sudden softness had caught you off guard. Where on earth was it coming from?

Unsure what to do as you exposed your raw nerves to him like this, you wrapped your arms around yourself as Bucky twitched in front of you, hesitating before once more reaching out to you, with purpose this time. He tugged at your shoulders until you were pressed into his chest, hiding your face in his faded blue henley. You felt the tension bleed out of you as he slowly brought his arms around you, his flesh hand running up and down your back in comfort.

“Hey there, it’s alright,” he cooed quietly, “it’s okay. We can figure it out. I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry.” It was tearing him apart, seeing you cry. You’d never reacted to his jokes like that, at least not to his face. He wondered how often you held your tears in until you escaped to your room, and his heart fractured. He hated who he turned into around you. He’d fix it, he had to. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t cry over a stupid guy like him.

You finally hiccuped to a stop, the tears no longer falling as his sweet ministrations calmed you down. Before more embarrassment over your breakdown could set in, Bucky grasped your shoulders and set you away from him so he could look you in your eyes.

“Now, you tell me what’s going on. I’ll fix it,” his hands gripped you tighter with his last words, assuring you. His sudden change of heart, while shocking, was strangely believable. You trusted his conviction that he wanted to help you.

Sighing shakily, you sniffled and began to explain. “It’s stupid really, Bucky. You don’t gotta worry,” you deflected, walls going back up even though you longed for his comfort, his friendship that you hadn’t allowed yourself to crave.

“Little darlin, it ain’t nothing if it makes you this upset. Please talk to me,” his soft eyes pleaded with you, the kindness floating in their depths piercing straight to your heart. Your resolve - built less from stubbornness now and more from niggling shame at letting him see to your core - crumbled.

“It was just gonna be a quick run to the pharmacy - I needed a refill - and then I was gonna come back here and sit in the sun and try to just enjoy my time off alone but my fucking card got fucking declined even though it has enough money and God, Buck, it was humiliating. And then I came back to get my wallet and -,” you cut yourself off, unsure, not wanting to accuse Bucky of making you cry. He had, but it was the whole situation that had really gotten you going. You didn’t want to point the finger at him when he was being nice for once.

Your sudden silence clued Bucky in to the rest of the story quickly enough, though he took sweet pause at the nickname that had slipped from your pretty mouth. He had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but continued on. “Okay, that’s not so bad then, huh? You can just go back and finish up, it’s still early in the day, plenty of time to relax,” Bucky assured you, thinking he’d figured this out pretty easily.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled. “You weren’t the one humiliated in front of multiple people thinking you couldn’t pay. I mean I basically ran out of there, Bucky. Why am I so - UGHHH.”

He very nearly laughed, covering himself by clearing his throat - now that you were talking to him and his dumb brain was letting him be nice to you, he wasn’t about to ruin things by upsetting you again. He wasn’t going to push you away. He found it endearing how open you were with your emotions, wishing he could be more like you some days when his melancholy got the best of him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to suffer alone.

“I see…well I’m real sorry you had to face that. I’ve been there a time or two, it’s no fun. But it ain’t bad as all that - they weren’t paying you that much attention. It’s New York City, everyone is so self-absorbed I bet they didn’t even notice. That’s not to say you don’t deserve attention ‘cause you do - I mean - that’s not - …yea,” he trailed off, cutting his rambling before he really embarrassed himself. He met your eyes sheepishly, surprised to see a small smile there. His heart soared knowing he was the one to put it there, even at the cost of some embarrassment himself.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, I need the prescription today. And - fuck! Whyyyyyyy,” you groaned, your face scrunching as you whined. And damn if that wasn’t just the cutest thing, Bucky couldn’t help but think.

The lilting, light tone returned to his voice as he gently laughed at your groaning. “What is it now, then?”

You moaned, blood rushing to your face as you admitted the silly annoyance, “I forgot my drink at Starbucks. I ordered it while I was in line at the pharmacy, I was gonna grab it on my way back. God, it’ll be warm now - or gone. Icing on the cake, just what I needed,” you sighed, resigned to the wasted money.

Bucky smiled genially as he reached over to ruffle your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear with surprising softness. You weren’t sure you’d ever gotten this close to his metal appendage. Something deep inside you fluttered at the prospect of more gentle touches, exploring each other and - now where the hell did that come from? You were beginning to think this morning’s commotion had somehow addled your brain. You shook your head at yourself, emptying those thoughts and Bucky chuckled. This time, though, it felt like he was laughing with you rather than at you. That was….refreshing. Nice, even. You yearned to make him laugh more.

“Alright. It’s no big deal,” Bucky calmly spoke, again determined to bring that smile back to your face and maybe, just maybe, get to know you as a friend. Something about how you’d opened up to him gave him hope he hadn’t ruined things beyond repair with his boyish taunting. He’d treat you like you deserved, be a good man to you, if he could take this chance.

“How about this - you go back, get that paid for, and I’ll go get your drink. If it’s warm or gone, I’ll make them make you a new one. Then you can get on with your day, and I’ll, uh…get out of your hair, I guess,” Bucky trailed off, suddenly unsure. Would this truce be short lived, lasting only until you resolved your dilemma? He guessed he’d deserve it if so, but he couldn’t help but hope you’d stick around him. He’d just have to give it his best shot.

“That’s - wow Buck, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. It’s nothing, silly really, I told you,” you scuffed your feet along the floor, suddenly feeling burdensome. A fearful voice in the back of your head wondered if you were just giving him more ammunition for future joking.

“It’s no trouble darlin’. It’s…it’s the least I can do for ya. I guess I know it’s a miracle you even talk to me. I don’t know why I’m so..” he cut off again, still not sure how to explain without exposing his inner thoughts. “Now, what’s the order?”

“Oh, uhm…,” you balked, disbelieving at what you were about to have to say to Bucky. “It’s, uh, called a Pink Drink?” you let the name escape your lips uncertainly, waiting for the inevitable mocking. But to your surprise, the sweetest smile graced Bucky’s face, lighting up his eyes.

“Well, if that ain’t just adorable,” he gently joked to you as you gave a grudging smile. “One Pink Drink it is, honey.”

And wow, these sudden sweet names were getting to you. You felt your heart flutter as he winked at you before sending you on your way down the hall to your room, finally about to clean up the mess you’d made this morning. He even waited for you to get your wallet, escorting you back to the elevator and riding down to street level with you.

“Go on then,” he encouraged, seeing you hesitate again. “I’ll meet you back up there,” he nodded back towards the Tower.

You smiled softly, half at him and half at the ground you were once more staring at, before making your way back to the pharmacy.

***

You supposed the second trip was actually rather painless. Not a big deal at all, just as Bucky had assured you. Perhaps you could salvage your afternoon indeed, let the sun burn the frustration and embarrassment out of you. Though something told you your newfound confusion at Bucky’s kindness would soon take hold. You still couldn’t believe the gentleness with which he handled you, the kind softness of his words as he comforted you - was this really the same man who spared few words for you but for jokes and laughter at your expense? Something had…shifted. You pushed the uneasy, yet warm feeling away. No time to dissect that right now, you scolded yourself as you headed up the elevator once more, this time for good. You were determined to put this morning behind you and enjoy your rare sunny day off.

As you stepped off the elevator to head to your room, you absently wondered where Bucky was. Surely he had made it back before you - the Starbucks was much closer than the pharmacy. Yet he was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure if you were bothered or relieved about that. Bothered that he might have abandoned his mission to help you, relieved you might not have to face him again. At least before, his unkindness was certain. You had learned to deal with it. Now, this new kind, gentle Bucky? Just what in the hell were you supposed to do with that? You didn’t know what to think.

***

These swirling thoughts stuck with you as you walked into your room; you were so distracted by your own internal monologue that the open door didn’t phase you, nor did the breeze coming in from the now ajar balcony door catch your eye. Absentmindedly you flitted around the room, putting away your wallet and goods. When the breeze coming in from the balcony caught a lock of your hair, blowing it across your face, you froze. Why was the balcony door open? You certainly hadn’t left it that way.

Peering out to investigate, you stopped right in your tracks at the sight that met your eyes. Your lounge chair was covered in one of your beach towels, bluetooth speaker already gently playing your sunshine playlist. And there on the table was your Pink Drink. You were flabbergasted - had Bucky come in and done this? For…you? The mere thought of him taking the time to set this up sent your heart soaring. But where was he? Perhaps your earlier thoughts were right - his sudden kindness had run out, and he was tired of being your friend already. Somehow, you couldn’t quite believe that to be the truth.

Determined not to let this chance go, because now that you’d had a taste of Bucky’s sweet side you would be damned if you couldn’t sink your teeth in, you set off in search of the brooding man. Wandering down the hallway, you steeled your resolve - you were going to thank him, and you weren’t going to get flustered this time. Maybe this could be a new start for both of you. Maybe he was more than you thought.

The door to Bucky’s room was open, and you heard the soft notes of Billie Holiday float into the corridor. You pushed your hesitation aside and walked in, not seeing him anywhere until your gaze fell upon a brunette head just peaking over the top of a chair on his balcony. Walking towards the glinting sunlight outside, you lightly knocked on the doorjamb to alert him to your presence, knowing he had probably heard you come in anyways.

“Hey,” he exclaimed softly, rolling his head to the side to glance at you. He seemed less…pompous than earlier, at least, but less energetic too. Like something had popped his bubble.

You stepped gingerly out onto the balcony, as if you were wary of startling him. As if you even could. Suddenly you were lost for words, the atmosphere awkward in a soft way. Unspoken words flitted between the two of you, both lost as to how to approach the new dynamic that crash landed in your laps earlier.

“Uh,” you started, lapsing into a giggle. “Thanks for the uh, for my drink. And stuff,” you finished uneasily, letting out a sharp laugh at your inability to articulate your appreciation for his earlier kindness. You still weren’t sure if there would be more where that came from, or if you had simply taken him aback with your tears and his sudden gentility was a stress reaction. You steeled yourself to be laughed out of his room, just in case.

“My pleasure, sweet girl,” he sighed, gazing out over the city. “Least I could do, really.”

“I - Bucky,” you heaved a deep breath and continued, “thank you, you really didn’t have to be so….sweet.”

He didn’t respond immediately and you wondered if you’d taken it too far, but before you could get too worried he spoke again.

“Darlin,” he started, the term of endearment dripping from his lips sweet like honey, “I owe ya a real apology. I never wanted to be unkind to you, but it felt like I couldn’t stop it. Whenever I see you I just…forget myself. It’s like I don’t know how to act, you scare the decency right outta me.”

Was this really happening? You gaped, “wha - Bucky, what?”

He held up a hand to stop you as he kept speaking, his words further shocking you yet sending a warm buzz up your spine at the same time. “I’m sorry I’ve treated you the way I have. I like joking with people but it’s not right that it hurt you and I kept on. I’m sorry I made ya cry. It ain’t an excuse but girl, you really terrify me. In a good way, I think, but I didn’t let myself see that. I hope it ain’t too late, you know…to be friendly?”

You were sure he could see the astonishment clear as day on your face, and you watched as his own expression contorted with unease. It wasn’t hard to see this admission was uncomfortable for him. But why? Because it pained him to admit he was wrong, or because…he was as afraid of rejection as you were?

“It’s not!” you blurted before you realized you had even spoken. ‘“It’s not too late.”

Bucky looked at you with a small smile, hope blooming in his eyes. You couldn’t believe your shit day had turned into this - who would have ever thought Bucky Barnes, the asshole next door, could be nice. Could apologize, even.

An idea struck you and before you could lose your confidence, you spoke, “Do you wanna come sit out with me?”

You left the invitation hanging desperately in the air as you shifted from one foot to the other, hoping he would accept.

“Only if you let me have some of that drink,” he laughed as he got up and ushered you back inside, through to your own room and balcony. You smiled to yourself but stayed quiet as you sat down on your chair; Bucky got comfortable in the chair next to you as the tune of a love song permeated the thick, warm air around you.

Silently grasping your drink, you handed it to him. It felt like a peace offering.

His rosy lips wrapping around the edge of the cup mesmerized you, a rivulet of condensation dripping from the cup down his arm as he swallowed.

His low laugh snapped you out of your reverie. “Well?” you inquired.

His lips stretched into a smile, “sweet drink. Perfect for a sweet girl,” a husky tone to his voice as he handed the drink back to you, your mouth agape once more.

A laugh ripped its way out of your throat, loud and boisterous and before you knew it you gasped out, “who are you and what have you done with Bucky? So charming, jesus.”

“Guess I have my moments. Gonna try harder to have them around you,” he let out a breathy laugh, still unsure how to act around you. But this felt better, lighter. For the first time in a while, he felt at ease within himself.

“I think I’d like that,” you spoke surely. Then a streak of courage hit you and you went on, “maybe next time, I could go with you? I mean, you could go with me - together, uh..”

Bucky smiled then, wide, “you askin�� me on a date there honey?” he cooed, joking but in kindness.

This time, you were ready to dish it back. “If you think one drink and some sweet talking is enough to get a date with me you got another thing coming, Barnes!” you jibed. “I was merely offering to return the favor,” you turned your face up with false haughtiness, but your laughter and the way you averted your eyes told him the truth. Turning over a new leaf and all that, he guessed.

“Well, I suppose that’s a start,” he laughed, hope bubbling in his chest. “That’s a start.”

As you watched the sun reach its midday summit, your mind wandered. What a day it had been already. You never thought you’d share such emotion with Bucky, that he’d be capable of handling it, or even sharing some in return. Maybe there was some truth to his words - you wouldn’t let the pain of his mocking slide so easily, but you felt he deserved the second chance he was craving. You deserved it, too.

You stole a quiet glance at him, your cheeks warming as you realize he’d been staring at you. He looked away quickly, but not before you caught a blush spreading across his cheeks. Perhaps, you thought, bad mornings weren’t so awful if they ended with afternoons like this.

***

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chernayawidow · 1 year ago

Text

The way I ran to tumblr when I remembered it’s Sunday and this would be getting posted today, HELL YEAH HERE WE GO!!! Last chapter, meaning no more cliff hangers WOOHOO!! 🤙 Had a very long and busy week so this feels like a fantastic end to it 🤣 SO LETS DO THIS!!

“And yes, you used the word roommate, because he hadn’t seen fit to give it any other label.” — I would be so fricken petty about that too

“You had to nag him about cabinets left open, dirty boots left right in front of the door to your shared apartment, and hell, actually going to his therapy sessions.” — Oh god he really is the worst roommate ever 💀

“And the therapist was apparently getting an earful of Ben’s celebrity encounters, with all the explicit, gushy details.” — That therapist deserves a whole ass pay raise for putting up with that shit oh god 🤣

“However, even with all of this, it also sometimes felt like you were an in-house maid rather than a partner.” — I had a feeling this would happen. Now that their dynamic is different from when she was living with him as a uhh… y’know, his captive 😅, Ben would revert to this kind of behaviour.

“She thought you needed therapy for an egregious case of Stockholm Syndrome.” — To be fair to baby sis, it honestly makes sense for her to think that.

“It was the way he always started his morning, like the old man he was.” — He is such an old man! I love it when you insert tidbits like this that really reflect him and is age!

““Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.” — He needs to learn that if he just stayed on top of these things in the first place and didn’t leave his boots there, for example, then she wouldn’t have to nag him about it.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.” — YOU GET HIM POOKIE!! I’m actually really excited to see how this plays out omg, because there’s nothing worse to me than the behaviour that Ben is exhibiting. He needs a wake up call! You’d think that this old ass man would actually be the type to call her his girlfriend. 🤣

“First, an exclusive relationship meant exclusive. Meaning no fucking around. (He’d raised a brow at you.)” — Very smart of her to lay down these rules! This first one especially, I don’t blame her for it being the first rule!

“And now, looking at him, you still had no idea if he was trying, or if he was just tired of being alone…and if you were just a convenient bedwarmer.” — I would 1000% be feeling this way too, because if he’s not living up to ground rules that he agreed to, then she’s definitely going to question what he thinks of her. We know he cares about her, but she doesn’t have the knowledge that we have.

““Do you even love me?” you asked.” — Oh shit…

“He couldn’t seem to answer you though…and that broke your heart.” — My heart is aching for her, this would absolutely sting. She’s gone to bat for him so many times and stood by him even knowing the backlash that would bring.

““You know what? You’re right. Smooth and creamy is how I’ll eat out your mother’s sweet and savory vajine,” Frenchie teased.” — I LITERALLY WHEEZED AT THIS!! Holy shit I love Frenchie 🤣

“You nodded at her question. You couldn’t help the tears burgeoning in your eyes. Annie scooched her chair over so she could rub your back in comfort.” — I really do love Annie, I mean sure she can be annoying but at the end of the day, she always has pure intentions.

“Apparently the whole I saved you with my super blood thing was awkward for both of them.” — LMAOOO of course they’d find a way to make it awkward 🤣

“You’re out of practice,” he told you. “You really think you’re ready for this?” — Oh Jesus he’s being such a man 💀 I would struggle to keep cool if a guy I was seeing publicly undermined me like this.

“Sapphire’s here somewhere. I can smell a massive cunt already.” — I have major appreciation for this line right here, it’s very Butcher!! 🤣

““What the hell’s going on?” you heard Ben’s voice on the line.” — Oh god this little princess is going to make a big deal about this isn’t he?

“At the center of it all was a tall woman, rich tan skin, long black hair, wearing a deep blue pantsuit and killer heels. She looked like a boss ass bitch.” — Oh naur… Pookie I’m pretty damn sure that you’ve accidentally found the target…

“You landed painfully on your side, with the wind knocked out of you.” — Ben is not gonna be happy about this 😅

“Sapphire grabbed the end of the line like a fucking moron. Her blue eyes widened in outrage and pain when it shocked 50,000 volts of electricity through her body.” — BRUHHHHHH how stupid do you have to be to make that mistake? 😂 What a dumbass!

“You landed on the middle platform between the first and second floor. This time, you knew you twisted your ankle badly on the way down. You whimpered, holding your ankle and shin, but you knew you didn’t have time to waste.” — Oh yeah Ben is definitely going to get cranky about this, he’ll probably try using this as a reason for why she shouldn’t be out in the field.

“To your relief, M.M. picked you up by your arms.” — FUCK YEAH!!! The cavalry is here!!

“The door behind you swung open, and before Sapphire could fire off a vaporizing blow, Ben raised his new titanium shield in front of you and M.M.” — Fucken oath!! Sapphire is soooo fucked now!

“The blue energy bounced right off, and Ben used his shield to bat the supe right in the face—like swatting a fly. With a shriek, she was thrown hard against the wall.” — This made me wheeze omg, she’s been demoted to a simple fly 💀

“I wanna know what goddamn moron cleared that fucking room,” he barked, but he didn’t slow down.” — I understand his anger but he needs to mellow out, everybody makes mistakes Benjamin!

“Hughie went to help you, grabbing your arm gently with a supportive hand on your back.” — Awh Hughie is so sweet, he and Annie are honestly amazing 😩🫶

“You didn’t see it, but that was when Ben stopped short. His jaw ticked. And he turned on his booted heel. When he saw you struggling to support yourself against the wall, he reluctantly went back. He knocked Hughie’s scrawny hands off you and wrapped an arm around your waist.” — This is so cute omg, I mean poor Hughie, but I adore the way that Ben always comes to her aid. Also “Hughie’s scrawny hands” made me WHEEZE 💀

““Don’t tell me to shut up!” you raised your voice.” — You tell him Pookie!

“You rolled your eyes as anger burned hot in your veins. “What-fucking-ever, grandpa.”” — SHE PULLED THE GRANDPA CARD AND I LOVE HER FOR IT OMG!!!

“Ben’s teeth clicked and grinded together. It took everything he had within him not to toss you.” — THIS MADE ME SPIT WHEN I WHEEZED OMFGGG, I startled my dog and everything 🤣 Benjamin, it’s not nice to toss the love of your life just because she called you grandpa 🫣

““Suck my dick. How about that?” you sassed back, unfazed by his warning.” — She’s acting just like me and I’m so proud of her 🫶

““You’re the fucking grouch,” you shot back. In times like these, you liked to fantasize. Sometimes you wished you could rip out his spine and play Jenga with the vertebrae.” — THIS IS SO VIOLENT AND FUNNY AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT OMG I’M MAKING SO MANY STUPID ASS SOUNDS AS I HOLD MY LAUGHTER IN 🤣 she’s just like me fr!! I had to re-read this just to make sure I was seeing it right! 😂

“He sighed and started to peel off his gloves and untie his boots…but instead of leaving them by the door, like he usually would, he kept walking until he made it to the bedroom he shared with you.” — Thank god! Now who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

“Except you were packing a suitcase—the same one he’d brought to the safe house he’d shared with you for a month.” — Oh snap this really ended up taking quite the angsty turn 👁️👄👁️ and I’m eating it UP!

“Well, you made yourself very clear this morning that we’re just roommates. So I’m going to the guest room.” — The level of pettiness is just beautiful 🤌 it’s like you were in my head when you wrote this!

““Because I fucking love you,” he said.” — AND THERE IT IS!! IT’S HAPPENING OMG OMG OMG ITS REALLY, TRULY HAPPENING!!! ✨🥹

“You knew that wasn’t true…but you couldn’t help it.” — I honestly understand her thought process and I fully support her saying these things, it’s necessary. He needs to hear what’s going on in her head and what’s eating at her mind in order to fix the tension. Now Ben will see why he needs to be vocal and honest about how he feels. He probably thinks that his gestures are doing the talking for him, that what he’s done for her is enough of a testament to how much he loves her. But he can’t just expect her to know the intention behind these actions, especially considering the type of person he used to be.

“But Crimson Countess…Tess…he’d been willing to settle down with her. He’d actually told her he loved her and hadn’t been totally lying through his teeth.” — I love that you’ve brought it back to this, because this betrayal would 1000% impact the way he behaves when he falls in love!

“But one day, I’m still going to fucking lose you,” he said, looking down on you. “Then I’ll be right back where I started.” — I’m so glad that you brought this up!

“Okay, we’ll have that conversation. I promise.” — Ooooo this is an interesting turn of events 👀 I’m definitely going to need to see this conversation unfold…

“Ben chuckled. He rested his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget it.”” — Heheheheheheh 😮‍💨🤙

“Now, you watched in amusement at the way his lips curved into a pleased grin. “No, don’t you even think about it,” you warned. Though you almost laughed at how excited he looked. “We’re not ready for that.”” — This bastard 1000000% has a breeding kink omfg 😂

“We have time, baby,” you promised, stroking his chin. “We’ll have a family…just give us some time.” — Fuck yeah!! WOOHOO!!!!! Surely there will be an expansion on this 👀

“What’re the chances that I’m ovulating anyway? you thought.” — Pookie, you’ve probably gone and jinxed it 😅

“You could’ve never known it then, but you’d stared straight into the face of your future.” — That’s so funny to think about that they never knew how important they would become to each other 🥹🫶

“Soon,” you agreed. And you reminded him, even as your throat constricted once more with emotion. “Ben, I love you…God, I love you. And I’ve never wanted this with anyone but you.” — THIS IS SO FRICKING CUTE OMGGGG!!! I’m so curious now about what type of parents they’d be, and about the type of kids they would have!

AND THERE WE HAVE IT!! This is such a satisfying ending to this series and I couldn’t have imagined a better one! I’m speechless honestly, and I’m so relieved that we won’t be saying goodbye to them or their story just yet! They’ve come so far together, and I love that you added this tension and these issues and insecurities into this chapter, because it’s such a realistic and necessary step! It feels more satisfying having them go through conflict only to come out stronger together, as opposed to them immediately having a “perfect relationship” and knowing how to live with each other. So so excited to see what comes next for these two!! 💖💖💖

Break Me Down - The Epilogue

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: This chapter is set about a month before "Love Actually." So...are you ready?

Song Inspo: For this last chapter, it’s “The Book of Love” by Peter Gabriel. (It’s just lovely. I listened to it while writing the second half of the epilogue!)

Word Count: 7,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Violence and peril, angst, familiar bickering, smutty smut, bit of breeding kink, tender fluff, hurt/comfort, and an ending…

Epilogue: All My Living Time

“I’m not fucking around,” he said. “I want you to live with me.”

Your smile was soft and bright when you took his hand. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but something in his chest stuttered to life then.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Six months later…

You were frustrated with your roommate.

And yes, you used the word roommate, because he hadn’t seen fit to give it any other label.

You stewed in your irritation as you also stirred the beginnings of chicken tortilla soup. It was early in the morning before work, and Yvette had been teaching you how to master the crockpot. Hopefully, by the time you and Ben got home tonight, it would be ready and waiting for dinner.

Six months. You had to nag him about cabinets left open, dirty boots left right in front of the door to your shared apartment, and hell, actually going to his therapy sessions.

While that last one had taken months of convincing and cajoling, he’d caved when you suggested that acknowledging and dealing with what happened to him in Russia might help him control the nuclear power inside him. And maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have to patch another hole in the ceiling.

Mind you, he wouldn’t actually talk to said therapist about anything related to his PTSD. But at least he was going. And the therapist was apparently getting an earful of Ben’s celebrity encounters, with all the explicit, gushy details.

However, even with all of this, it also sometimes felt like you were an in-house maid rather than a partner.

The latest reason for your frustration returned to you when Ben strolled into the kitchen in search of coffee. He wasn’t yet dressed for work in his supe suit; instead, still in the plain shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in.

He glanced at you, and seeming to sense your mood, he kept to himself as he found his usual mug and poured a cup of steaming French press in silence.

You took in a breath, trying to calm yourself. Maybe he’d had time to sleep on it. You closed the crockpot and went over to him. Your hand on his arm made him pause.

“Hey,” you said, “have you thought about what I asked you last night?”

Ben’s expression remained flat. “I think I already said my piece on that.”

You sighed.

“Why is dinner with my family such a hard thing for you?” you asked. Your brows furrowed. “My sister’s starting to warm up to you! And Mom just wants to get to know you. What’s the problem?”

Ben scoffed. “Your sister fucking hates me.”

You bit your lip. He wasn’t totally wrong, but in fairness, Louisa wasn’t happy to learn about why you’d nearly died in the hospital, when Vought Tower collapsed.

She thought you needed therapy for an egregious case of Stockholm Syndrome. But the more Ben worked with Supe Affairs, helping to clear the streets of out-of-control supes and cleaning up the remains of Vought, you were slowly getting Louisa to come around.

“She just needs time to get to know you too,” you said.

Ben wasn’t having it though. He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away from you with his coffee and a newspaper—aiming to get to his favorite lounge chair in the living room. It was the way he always started his morning, like the old man he was.

You followed him.

“Come on, one dinner won’t kill you,” you said. “And by the way, neither would moving your dirty-ass boots out of the doorway.”

You went over to grab said boots, and in your annoyance, you all but tossed them into the hall. Ben frowned at you, throwing down the newspaper onto the coffee table.

“Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.”

But God forbid another man even smile in your direction. Ben was possessive, protective, and claimed with all but words that you were his. And yet, he wouldn’t say it.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was afraid of commitment, but you’d been living together for six damn months. Almost seven, if you counted the safe house.

When you found this nice, but cozy apartment in Scarsdale, you’d sat him down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, like the two of you used to in that house in Medellin.

And you established the ground rules before you two officially moved in together:

First, an exclusive relationship meant exclusive. Meaning no fucking around. (He’d raised a brow at you.)

Second, you were his partner, not his slave. You expected him to carry his hefty weight, not only in the relationship, but around the house. (He’d most definitely rolled his eyes at that.)

And finally, don’t be an asshole, you’d decreed. “Be honest when you’re not feeling right about something. But don’t be a dick about it.”

That cut both ways, of course, just like the other two rules. He’d agreed to all of these, albeit begrudgingly. You hadn’t really known then if he meant it.

And now, looking at him, you still had no idea if he was trying, or if he was just tired of being alone…and if you were just a convenient bedwarmer. You bit your lip once again, this time with a growing fear blooming anxiety in your chest.

“Do you even love me?” you asked.

Ben blinked down at you, and his lips pulled into a deep frown.

“Stop fucking around,” he said.

“I’m serious,” you insisted. Your crossed arms tightened, as if to protect yourself from what he might say. “You’ve never said it once.”

“And the fact that I agreed to live in this mediocre fucking apartment doesn’t mean anything?” he said, gesturing around him with a hand. “I take you out, I buy you shit. Matter of fact, I fucking spoil you.”

“And you take off whenever you feel like it, especially after missions,” you shot back. “Sometimes I don’t know where the hell you’ve gone for hours. For all I know, you’re out there doing blow with a caravan of strippers!”

While that did sound like a damn good time, that hadn’t been Ben’s M.O. in recent months. And in his mind, you should’ve known better.

“I haven’t fucked anyone but you since we moved in here,” he snapped.

Even longer than that, if he was honest.

Meanwhile, you wanted to trust his words, desperately, but you just didn’t know if you could.

“Even if I believe you, what’s the problem here?” you asked. Your gaze fell from his as you worried your bottom lip. “Am I doing something wrong?”

You didn’t see the way Ben’s brows knitted together, his eyes softening a bit.

“Other than annoying the hell out of me right now, no,” he replied.

“Okay,” you nodded with a sigh. You looked up at him again. “Then just tell me the truth. What are we doing here?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Ben’s hands went to his waist, and once again, he frowned in irritation. “I’m here. What more do you want from me?”

“Do you love me?” you asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

He knew very well that you would be able to detect if he was lying. Which was why, you suspected, he hadn’t tried to.

He couldn’t seem to answer you though…and that broke your heart.

Shaking your head, you walked away from him to get ready for work.

Your attitude at work was snappish at best. Annie had pulled you from the Surveillance department on your lunch break to join her and your friends in the breakroom, but you couldn’t enjoy yourself like you usually would.

“Smooth and creamy, all the motherfuckin’ way,” M.M. said. Sitting across from him in the breakroom was Frenchie, pelting him with a roasted peanut.

“This is why you are an unsophisticated, bourgeois, fucking fuddy-duddy,” Frenchie remarked. He was also vaping, as Annie was trying to get him to stop smoking indoors. “Extra crunchy peanut butter is the only way to do business.”

“What’s the point? Just eat peanuts if you want it that crunchy,” M.M. countered. He blocked each roasted nut thrown at him and organized them in a perfect pile on the table.

“You know what? You’re right. Smooth and creamy is how I’ll eat out your mother’s sweet and savory vajine,” Frenchie teased.

M.M.’s deadpan face was priceless. But when a peanut projectile strayed and hit you in the cheek, you leveled Frenchie with a glare.

“Can you guys not act like children for five goddamn minutes?” you snapped.

His brows raised, along with his hands in surrender. M.M. and Annie looked at you in mild surprise, and the latter with concern after the guys eventually left.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve looked tense as hell all day,” she asked. You sighed, holding a hand to your brow.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you replied. She gave you a knowing look.

“Is…something going on?” she asked. “Is it Ben?”

Most of the S.A. was still wary of Ben, while M.M. tolerated him at best. (You understood how hard he was trying.)

You appreciated Annie though. She was a good friend, and along with Hughie, she’d been another who started to come around to the idea of Ben. Not only as he occasionally worked with the S.A., but to the man himself, after she’d seen the way he did his best to save you, Yvette, and her son Devon.

You nodded at her question. You couldn’t help the tears burgeoning in your eyes. Annie scooched her chair over so she could rub your back in comfort. You sniffed and tried not to break down here in the middle of the breakroom, over your sad ham sandwich.

“We had a fight,” you admitted. Annie’s gaze was tight with concern.

“Did he…hurt you?” she asked. Her brown eyes were as direct as her words, promising her protection as well as retribution, depending on how you answered.

Your glassy eyes widened. “No. He’s not like that, he…believe it or not, but he’s never hurt me, Annie. Not once.”

After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, good. Well, tell me what happened.”

You wanted to. But before you could, both of you got an incoming text in the team group chat. It was from Grace Mallory.

She had a new mission.

Grace asked you to join the team on your first field mission since you’d returned to work three months ago. She also called in Ben, as in her words, it was another “all hands on fucking deck” situation.

Ben and Butcher eyed one another with similar stoic frowns, before they proceeded to ignore each other. Despite how you felt about Ben right now, the brief exchange almost made you smirk.

Apparently the whole I saved you with my super blood thing was awkward for both of them. You knew Ben had seen it as a means to an end. You still didn’t know how Butcher felt about it, but it seemed as if a begrudging respect had formed between the two men.

Or at least, they were civil, anyway.

“All right,” Grace said, once she saw that everyone was in attendance. “Let’s begin.”

A supe named Sapphire had been giving the CIA trouble for years now. She was moving drugs from South America to the States, to the Middle East, whoever would deal with her. And she was smart. She had a network of spies that transcended continents, and so she had evaded every attempt at arrest.

She was also a powerful supe, with the ability to channel vaporizing energy not unlike Crimson Countess had. However, this supe could spear blue shards of light through her enemies as well. With her damn eyes.

Grace turned to you after she finished explaining the details of the mission.

“Sapphire’s internal security is advanced. Our system can’t penetrate her firewalls. You’ll need to get a hand on the mainframe from there, shut down her system. Then our Surveillance team can back you up here.”

You nodded, but in the corner of your eye, you noticed Ben frowning as he crossed his arms.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re out of practice,” he told you. “You really think you’re ready for this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I train every day,” you snapped back.

Ben’s expression fell into irritation. “Not the same, and you fucking know it.”

Butcher, Annie, and the others watched the exchange with mixed wariness and discomfort. Grace looked between you and Ben with curious, narrowed eyes.

“Is this going to be a problem, you two working together on this?” she asked.

You turned from Ben’s annoyed face and met Grace’s gaze directly.

“Not at all,” you said.

Sapphire had been spotted doing business in the Meat Packing District. By day, the building was a beef butchering factory. By night, it was apparently one of the most massive drug running operations in the city.

As such, her security team was extensive—at the front, the back, and the roof. So while Butcher, Kimiko, and Ben broke through the front, making a lot of noise and distraction, the rest of you went under.

Unfortunately, that meant the sewer. Annie lit the way through, while M.M. followed a set of schematics to find the right spot.

“It’s not my first time in the bowels of New York City, but please God, let it be the last,” Hughie quipped. You tried not to breathe the foul smell through your nose.

“Watch the fucking rat,” M.M. said with a grimace, before he set up the double-sided ladder he brought. He and Frenchie climbed either side of it up to the metal ceiling which, according to the building’s schematics, led directly beneath the factory basement.

They took up welding guns and masks to carve a large hole into the metal and cement above. And soon enough, they pushed up and slid over a large portion, creating a gap you could all crawl through.

M.M. helped Annie up first, and she shot a few star bolts at the three men inside, who had been smoking and eating deli sandwiches. Each of them went down, alive, but groaning in pain. That allowed the rest of you to climb up and into the basement.

“We’re in,” M.M. said into the Bluetooth communicator in his ear.

“We’re cutting through her goon squad,” Butcher said. “Sapphire’s here somewhere. I can smell a massive cunt already.”

“Gross. Thanks for that visual,” Annie remarked.

From there, you all took off toward the stairwell. It was your task to find the operation’s security control room. So Hughie and Frenchie went with you as backup, while M.M. and Annie went to join the fight and find Sapphire.

It took you a few tries to find the right room. Most of them were offices. One contained wagons of discarded meat parts (disgusting). But eventually, you found a large room filled with computer equipment and a huge wall monitor with several panels of camera feeds. You and Frenchie raised your guns and took out the team inside.

Then you and Hughie went to the controls. Frenchie watched the door while you worked to disable the firewall first. You instructed Hughie on how to knock out their communications as well. And within a few minutes, your work was done. You were able to make a call to the S.A. Surveillance team.

“Hey, friend!” a cheerful voice greeted you. You smiled; it was your coworker Jess, who you’d worked with for the past two years.

“Jess?”

“Yep! I’m helping out on this one. What do you need?”

“I shut down the firewall. I’m giving you the I.P. address now so you can connect.”

“…Okay, got it. I’m in. I can see all twenty cameras, and you! Hey, there.”

“All right, where’s Sapphire?” you asked.

“Looks like they haven’t found her yet,” Hughie said, pointing at the camera feed in the main room, filled with rows of conveyor belts, and a massive fight as Ben, Butcher, and the others made their way through the building.

“We’ll just have to help them clear each room,” you said. “Let’s go. Jess, keep an eye on us, but look out for Sapphire.”

“Will do. I’m patched into your comm now too,” she said. So you hung up your cell, and you left with Hughie and Frenchie.

You ran into more security when you left the room, more than the three of you could realistically handle as a fire fight began. You guys ran in the opposite direction, but while you veered right around the corner, Frenchie and Hughie ran left. Bullets tore in between, making sure that none of you could cross the hall to join back up.

“You guys keep going. I’ll find my own way out,” you called out to them. Neither of them liked that idea, but Frenchie nodded and pulled Hughie away when Sapphire’s security team closed in.

You kept running down the hall. You knew you were being chased. Several heavy footsteps thundered behind you.

“Jess, I need a way out of here,” you commed in.

“You’re on the second floor,” she said. “The closest stairwell is the one you’re running away from.”

“What’s the second closest?” You panted as you ran.

“Hmm, you can cut through room 234. The exit stairwell is right on the other side.”

“Is the room clear?” you asked.

After a moment, Jess answered. “Yep, it should be.”

"Should be?”you said dubiously.

“What the hell’s going on?” you heard Ben’s voice on the line. You heard the edge of his annoyance (and underlying worry), but you didn’t have time to talk to him right now.

“Looks clear on my end,” said Jess,“but this connection is a bit wonky.”

Damn it, Jess, you thought. When you reached room 234, the door was solid gray. There was no window to peek into, and you didn’t have time for caution, as a stray bullet nearly caught you in the head.

You ripped the door open and ran in, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it for good measure.

You turned around and stopped short. A gasp caught in your throat.

The room was huge, and it was filled wall-to-wall with white packages, of what you could only assume was cocaine. A few men were continuing to stack them. At the center of it all was a tall woman, rich tan skin, long black hair, wearing a deep blue pantsuit and killer heels. She looked like a boss ass bitch.

But unfortunately, she was also looking straight at you, raising a brow.

“Ah,” she said. A smile curved her lips, painted with a dark plum lipstick. “You’re one of the little bitches making a mess in my office.”

Her eyes glowed blue, and yours widened. You dove for the nearest shelter—a wall of cocaine parcels. White powder exploded and wafted in the air as you ducked and ran across the room (and tried not to inhale). You drew your gun and shot out the legs of her men underneath the long stretch of table, but you yelped as bullets continued to follow you.

“I found Sapphire! Need backup in 234!” you shouted into the comm.

But when a blast of blue energy rocked into the wall directly behind you, you screamed as you were thrown forward. You landed painfully on your side, with the wind knocked out of you.

After a moment, you drew breath into your lungs and were able to pick yourself up. The exit door was close, a mere few feet away, but the second you reached for it, you had to pull back as narrow blue shards of light pierced the door.

Sapphire was quickly approaching, just a yard or so away from grabbing you.

Instead of shooting your gun, you went for the taser at your belt and shot fast. Sapphire grabbed the end of the line like a fucking moron. Her blue eyes widened in outrage and pain when it shocked 50,000 volts of electricity through her body.

You took your chance, and you ripped the door open and fled. You just didn’t expect the bolt of energy that shot after you when you reached the stairs.

It didn’t hit you, but trying to dodge it made you lose your balance. You uttered a short scream as you were forced to jump the first flight of stairs.

You landed on the middle platform between the first and second floor. This time, you knew you twisted your ankle badly on the way down. You whimpered, holding your ankle and shin, but you knew you didn’t have time to waste.

It was a struggle to claw your way up to the guard rail. You could barely put pressure on your right foot, but you had no choice as you scrambled down the rest of the stairs. Already the door to the stairwell was blown open, and a pissed supe was on her way down behind you.

After shoving the door open on the first floor, you stumbled out and took another painful spill across the concrete floor. To your relief, M.M. picked you up by your arms.

The door behind you swung open, and before Sapphire could fire off a vaporizing blow, Ben raised his new titanium shield in front of you and M.M.

The blue energy bounced right off, and Ben used his shield to bat the supe right in the face—like swatting a fly. With a shriek, she was thrown hard against the wall.

Sapphire sunk to her knees, then the electric blue flickered out of her eyes as she fell unconscious to the floor.

When you all returned to Supe Affairs, Ben thundered down the hall towards the Surveillance department.

“Ben!” You hurried after him the best you could with a sprained ankle, bare-footed and wrapped, while M.M. and Hughie trailed behind. The others were busy getting Sapphire into custody.

Hughie was concerned for you though, while M.M. also wanted to know how you were going to try and reign in Soldier Boy.

“What the hell are you doing?” you called after Ben.

“I wanna know what goddamn moron cleared that fucking room,” he barked, but he didn’t slow down.

M.M. called your name from behind.

“Get your boyfriend in check,” he warned.

You sighed in irritation. At this point, you didn’t even know if he was your boyfriend.

But you struggled to reach him. You were practically hopping on one foot. The moment you tried to put any pressure on your right one, you faltered with a cry as you all but crashed against the wall to catch yourself. Hughie went to help you, grabbing your arm gently with a supportive hand on your back.

You didn’t see it, but that was when Ben stopped short. His jaw ticked. And he turned on his booted heel. When he saw you struggling to support yourself against the wall, he reluctantly went back. He knocked Hughie’s scrawny hands off you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

When he tried to just gather you into his arms to get the weight off your injured foot, you snapped at him.

“I can walk!” you said. “Let’s just go home please.”

His nostrils flared in irritation, but he helped you try to walk back toward the exit instead. You winced in pain with every small step.

Ben growled in annoyance. Fuck this.

He hefted you effortlessly into his arms. You gasped and clung to his shoulders, and afterwards, you glared at him.

“I said I can walk!” you insisted.

“Shut up,” he grated out, swiftly heading for the exit doors down the hall. M.M. and Hughie watched with wide eyes while you and Ben devolved into what you did best.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” you raised your voice.

He glared at you. “You’re in rare fucking form right now.”

“You’re the one being an asshole!”

“And you’re being a disrespectful brat!”

You rolled your eyes as anger burned hot in your veins. “What-fucking-ever, grandpa.”

Ben’s teeth clicked and grinded together. It took everything he had within him not to toss you.

“You really wanna fucking get it, don’t you?”

“Suck my dick. How about that?” you sassed back, unfazed by his warning.

Ben bulldozed through the double doors with a swift kick that shook them on their hinges. The bickering continued long after you two exited the building.

Hughie just stared, mouth gaping, while M.M. crossed his arms.

“That is some volatile shit,” Hughie remarked.

M.M. scoffed, with a subtle shake of his head.

“Nah, man,” he said ruefully. “That’s true motherfuckin’ love.”

Meanwhile, in the car, Ben drove home to Scarsdale. You simmered in the passenger seat. He glanced at you.

“Are you gonna be a hissy bitch all night?” he asked. You glowered at him.

“You’re the fucking grouch,” you shot back. In times like these, you liked to fantasize. Sometimes you wished you could rip out his spine and play Jenga with the vertebrae.

“And you’re the one who nearly got yourself killed,” he retorted.

You took issue with this, your brows raising high.

“Excuse me? You’re really blaming me for what happened with Sapphire? You were ready to take out my friend for making an honest mistake.”

His gaze briefly left the road, turning to you in frustration. He didn't understand how you couldn't get it through your thick skull. You had been one shaky step shy of being fucking vaporized today.

No blood. No body. Just...nothing.

“Case in point, you’re the best in Surveillance," he said gruffly. "You don’t need to be in the field."

His compliment stopped you, warming you a little, but he was missing the point.

“I go where I’m needed, just like you,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me how, when, or where to do my job.”

Needless to say, it was tense for the rest of the way home.

Ben helped you inside, after which, you were determined to get to the bedroom by yourself. He watched you hop away from him with a frustrated shake of his head.

He sighed and started to peel off his gloves and untie his boots…but instead of leaving them by the door, like he usually would, he kept walking until he made it to the bedroom he shared with you. He sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off there.

He watched you ignore him as you closed yourself into the bathroom.

You came out of the shower a little while later. Your hair was damp, but unwashed as you hadn’t been able to stand there for very long. The wrap on your ankle had gotten wet, so you grabbed the spare one that the paramedic had given you.

Ben didn’t look at you as he took his turn heading into the bathroom. After the door shut, your shoulders slumped with a sigh.

You tried to put on some shorts, but you quickly gave up and instead put on an overlarge shirt over your underwear. You remembered then that this shirt was an old one of Ben’s, and now a favorite of yours, because it still smelled like that earthy mix of his cologne and aftershave.

Frowning, you sucked in a deep breath. And you made a decision.

By the time Ben came back out with a towel wrapped around his hips, he found you still in the bedroom. Except you were packing a suitcase—the same one he’d brought to the safe house he’d shared with you for a month.

You were stuffing clothes into it from your side of the dresser. Something churned uncomfortably in his stomach, and he approached you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded to know.

You glanced up at him, but continued packing.

“Well, you made yourself very clear this morning that we’re just roommates. So I’m going to the guest room.”

“All right, don’t get all fucking hormonal,” he said, reaching out with a hand to stop you. You snatched your hand away from him. His brows raised in disbelief.

When you tried to get past him on the way to your closet, he held fast to your arm. With an angry frown, he then grabbed your suitcase and spilled it over onto the bed. You didn’t need a fucking suitcase to move one room over. Not that he planned to let you go any-damn-where.

“Enough,” he said sharply.

You met his intense stare with your own, but your eyes were shining and red. In that moment, you both stilled. The silence was palpable. For you, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t do this anymore, Ben,” you confessed. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall just yet. “I put my all into this, and I just…I can’t be with someone who won’t be honest with me.”

You started to grab your suitcase again, along with your discarded clothes. Ben stopped you.

“I said enough,” he snapped.

You then threw the heap of clothes to the floor, suitcase and all.

“Why?” you tearfully retorted. “Why should I listen to you?”

His deep green eyes searched yours. For what, you didn’t know.

Eventually, you started to see through the cracks of his anger.

“Because I fucking love you,” he said.

You blinked up at him, with hope stuck in your throat. But you were stubborn in your denial.

“You’re just saying that to get me off your back,” you argued. “Either you’ve just gotten used to having me around, or you just don’t feel like being alone. But you don’t really care about me.”

You knew you were saying words you didn’t mean.

You knew that wasn’t true…but you couldn’t help it.

You were more upset than angry now, seconds away from dissolving into pitiful tears. You were just stubborn enough to hold them at bay.

“Just shut up for one goddamn second,” Ben said. He held you by your shoulders, though his hands soon moved down to grip your arms. It wasn’t a painful hold, but it was firm, and quite possibly pleading.

Despite your better judgment, you gave him time to speak.

“You really think I’d stay here in this shithole if I didn’t want you?” he asked. “If I didn’t care about you?”

You unconsciously held your breath. For a long moment, he hesitated to continue.

Again, you waited for him.

Meanwhile, Ben knew he was being a coward. He’d been holding back. Not because he wasn’t serious about you, but because he’d been burned before.

He knew he’d spent his life being a fucking bastard, in most ways. He knew he’d been wrong, and hadn’t given two shits about it. But Crimson Countess…Tess…he’d been willing to settle down with her. He’d actually told her he loved her and hadn’t been totally lying through his teeth.

Yeah, he’d fucked around. Flirted with other women in front of her. He knew he was a hypocrite. Still, in whatever way he could at the time, he thought he’d loved her.

And she’d lied to him. She’d gone through the motions of being with him. For fame or fear or whatever her reasons had been, she went along with it. And then she’d sold him out, along with the rest of their team.

For nothing. Just to get him the fuck out of her life—out of the world.

So what was he supposed to do with you? Just let you walk the fuck in, give you the deepest parts of him? A dark fucking space that he’d never given to anyone.

Well, he knew now if he didn’t, you were going to leave. But he wasn’t willing to let go either.

So…he relented. For once in his life, he told the truth.

“I love you,” Ben admitted. “In my whole damn life…I think you’re the only one who’s made me feel it for real.”

Tears finally slipped down your cheeks. You reached out and grasped his wrist, mostly for stability as you took in his words. He took that hand, held it to his warm chest. Always warm.

“But one day, I’m still going to fucking lose you,” he said, looking down on you. “Then I’ll be right back where I started.”

Alone.

You looked up at him with a sad, rueful smile.

“Not exactly where you started,” you replied. He wasn’t the same man you met last year. You pressed your free hand to his cheek.

“Taking Compound V doesn’t guarantee I’ll come out like you, with a longer lifespan.”

“It’s something the CIA can work on,” Ben said.

“You want Dr. Baker to experiment on me?” you asked, quirking a brow. The CIA had recruited her, ironically enough.

Ben closed his eyes for a second, letting out a slight huff. “That’s not what I’m fucking saying.”

You nodded and soothed your fingers through his hair.

“Okay, we’ll have that conversation. I promise.” Then you smiled. “But let me just have this moment…my boyfriend loves me.”

You looked into his eyes and you knew he meant it. His hands moved to your waist, around to the small of your back. You clung to his shoulders and shifted off your aching ankle with a wince. Ben noticed, and he raised you up to him. It had the added benefit of letting you reach his face easier.

He guided you into a searing kiss. You responded in kind, delving into his hair again and opening your mouth to his demanding tongue. With the tips of your toes, you pushed up from the ground and he helped you wrap your legs around his waist.

The towel he wore was starting to slip, and you shoved it the rest of the way off with your foot, until he stood in the center of the bedroom in all his glory.

He smirked into your lips and walked you to the bed. But before he could lay you down, you broke the kiss and held his face.

“You really love me?” you asked, just to make sure. It was the part of you, perhaps still scarred deep down, that had to ask.

Ben chuckled. He rested his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You grinned, and you kissed him this time, only breaking when he lowered down to the bed. Once your back met the plush mattress, all bets were off. He wrenched your shirt up over your head, and you reached for him again.

Your lips drew a hot, wet path from his jawline to his neck, biting and sucking all along the way to that sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder. His hand clenched in your hair, a deep sound caught in his throat when he felt the sharp sting of your teeth, playfully biting, then soothing with your tongue.

Your nails bit into his skin, but merely felt like teasing down his back, making a shiver trill along his spine. He all but pressed you into the mattress as he made his own descent.

Your fingers trailed up and into his hair while his mouth worked its way down between your breasts, stopping to lavish attention on each one. You made sounds of pleasure when he took a hardened nipple between his lips, between his teeth, dragging deliciously over your skin.

Your thighs wrapped around his hips again, He bucked teasingly into your clothed core, making you moan when you felt his wet tip dampening your panties.

“Ben…”

His lips curved, but he didn’t answer you. His fingers were pressing into the flesh of your thigh as he continued to tease your breasts. You’d felt how hard he was already and frankly, you were surprised he was taking his time.

“Listen,” you panted in his ear. “You’ve gotta wrap it up this time. Do we even have condoms?”

You knew for a fact that Ben didn’t buy them.

But his brows furrowed. His mouth left your breast as he looked up at you.

“What?”

“I haven’t replaced my IUD yet,” you confessed. Its five-year lifespan had been up, and so you’d gotten the birth control device removed a few days ago.

Now, you watched in amusement at the way his lips curved into a pleased grin.

“No, don’t you even think about it,” you warned. Though you almost laughed at how excited he looked. “We’re not ready for that.”

“Why fucking not?” Ben asked. His pressed his length against your core more insistently. The idea of fucking you raw, spilling into you, putting his seed deep inside you without resistance, had his cock throbbing with anticipation.

“Ben!” You had to laugh. You two hadn’t even been living together that long, and you had just gotten on the same page after six months of trying to figure out what you were together.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want kids,” he said. And he began to ply you with tantalizing kisses along the column of your throat, down your neck, the scraping of teeth making you shudder in delight.

“I do,” you could admit. “But is right now really the best ti—”

He choked a moan out of you as his fingers pushed your underwear aside and spread your folds, then delved right in. Your core pulsed, hot and wet as his thick digits sunk deep inside you.

“God,” you uttered, gripping his hair tight. He stretched and explored your inner channel with two fingers, while his thumb found your clit with ease.

“When then?” he asked. But his hand was unrelenting, working you over until your toes curled and the coil in your lower belly began to tighten. You looked up at him helplessly.

“Can we talk about this later?” you keened. Ben smirked and suddenly withdrew his fingers from your dripping pussy. He snatched your underwear, ripping them down the middle and making you gasp.

“No time like the fucking present,” he insisted. He lined himself up to your entrance, but you stopped him with a warning look. You knew if you let him inside you now, he was going to try and get his way.

“Ben,” you warned.

He sighed and let you stop him, but then his teasing edge faded.

Ben pressed a hand to your cheek. When he leaned down to kiss you, you felt the need and wanting behind it.

He pulled away to meet your eyes. You softened looking up into his, because you understood what he wanted.

“We have time, baby,” you promised, stroking his chin. “We’ll have a family…just give us some time.”

He was disappointed…but he nodded. Sighing again through his nose, he clenched a hand into the now tangled mess of your hair.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you’re fucking mine.”

Your eyes widened. In all of this, you’d forgotten to be honest yourself.

“Of course I’m yours,” you said. “I love you, Ben. So much, I can hardly take it.”

He closed his eyes with furrowed brows. It had been a very long time since he’d heard those words. Maybe the first time someone had said them with any real sincerity, besides his mother.

You encouraged him to look at you, both with your voice and your hand gently touching his face. And when he opened his eyes, you marveled at the depths there.

Smiling, you guided him back to your lips. It was slow and sweet…until it wasn’t, deepening in passion and urgency again. Need burned inside you, so deep and strong that you couldn't take it anymore.

You slipped a hand between you to grasp his still hard cock. You caressed him a few times, letting your thumb circle around the sensitive head. Ben couldn’t help thrusting into your hand, releasing a grunt. His eyes briefly closed again as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his neck, down his chest.

“I need you,” you whispered against his skin. Ben nodded while you held his length poised at your entrance. He raised your hips, tucking your ankles over shoulders. For your injured one, he rubbed your calf.

“What a fuckin’ trooper,” he said with a smirk.

You smiled, but it soon fell into a moan as he began to push inside you. Every time, he stretched and filled you completely. Your inner walls wrapped around him and already fluttered with heat.

“Fuck, baby doll. Got me tight as a damn glove,” Ben remarked. You had to giggle, but that just squeezed him harder. When he began to move, it was all you could do to cling to his shoulders.

As basic as the position was, you liked being able to see his face. You knew when to spur him on, and when to just hold on for dear fucking life. But above all, he was a skilled man, and you enjoyed watching him work.

You were so consumed by it that when he came, it took both of you by surprise. He spilled into you hot and deep, but he still filled you with ragged thrusts, which hit that special place inside that made your entire body shudder with pleasure. You couldn’t help but come apart with him.

Your nails bit fruitlessly into his skin as your voice rose on a high moan. The two of you panted for breath, and he pulled out and let down your legs back to the bed. Once you felt the telltale dripping of his release slipping down from between your legs, your eyes widened.

Oh shit, you thought. “We forgot the condom.”

Ben stared down at you, first in confusion, then in surprise. And finally, with a broad, Cheshire-like grin.

You laid a hand over your eyes as you relaxed into the pillow behind your head, trying not to laugh.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said.

“We? I was following your lead,” Ben said. He moved to lay beside you in full satisfaction, folding his hands over his chest. He looked like the cat that caught the horny-ass canary.

"Haven't you heard of, oh, I don't know, pulling out?" you quipped. Ben rose a brow at you, still with that smug look on his face.

"Not my philosophy, sweetheart," he said.

Your mouth dropped open incredulously. Your gaze narrowed, but looking into his gleaming eyes, you really just had to laugh. His smile grew.

Ugh. Whatever, you thought. For now, you closed your legs and moved over to rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

What’re the chances that I’m ovulating anyway? you thought.

After a beat, you huffed another laugh. With your luck, you’d definitely have to stop at a drugstore for a pregnancy test.

And yet, in times like these, you were happy that you caved when Ben insisted on installing a TV in the bedroom. After you both got cleaned up, it was nice to fall into bed like you used to and find something new to watch together.

There were so many things you wanted him to catch up on, and he was generally game for whatever you thought he might like.

Three episodes of The Office later though, you stopped laughing so much and fell into your thoughts. Ben noticed, tugging on a loose strand of your hair.

“What’s the matter?”

“You really think our apartment is a shithole?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I might’ve embellished.”

“Seriously. If you’re not comfortable here—”

“I’m comfortable,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “Why’re you asking me that now?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I just want you to be happy here. I want this to feel like home for both of us, but not like, boring either.”

He smirked. “Hence the caravan of whores and blow.”

You shook your head with a laugh. But he still saw you trying to stem off that worry. That all this wasn’t enough for him.

Well, Ben could complain about being cramped in this three-bedroom apartment…but he knew that when he came home, he wouldn’t be alone.

He’d be able to see your stuff on the nightstand, by your side of the bed, your half of the closet, your sweet-smelling soaps and lotions in the bathroom. All of that was familiar to him now.

It was home, he supposed. And so were you.

The beginnings of a softer smile curved his lips, but he edged it into a smirk.

“You’ve got something they don’t,” he said.

“What’s that?” you asked, raising a brow.

“You try the ever-living fuck out of my patience,” he said, “unlike anyone on the planet.”

With a giggle, you rolled over onto his arm and chest, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Buuut…?”

He conceded with a nod, if also a roll of his eyes. His arm lifted to once again slip around your waist.

“But no matter how fucked up it got, you stayed.”

With me, his tone implied.

“That’s more than anyone else in my goddamn life,” he said.

And that made you tear up all over again.

“So you’re staying,” you clarified, only half-teasing.

It reminded you of when you’d sat tied to a chair, wondering why the hell Soldier Boy would want to let you live. You could’ve never known it then, but you’d stared straight into the face of your future.

You didn’t know if Ben was remembering the same thing, but he smiled a little, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

“I’m staying,” he replied. Your smile brightened, and you leaned up for a kiss.

“Then we’re square,” you whispered against his lips.

He chuckled and deepened the kiss. He turned off the TV, chucking the remote further down the bed and turned to trap you beneath him again.

“Nope.” You finished wiping your eyes and pushed against his chest. “You’re not finessing me twice. Go find a damn condom.”

He gave you a grumpy look. “Fucking killjoy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed. You reached up and took his face in your hands.

“I promised, didn’t I?” you reminded. “We’ll get there.”

His gaze searched yours.

“Soon, not someday,” he said. You nodded, soothing your thumb across his cheek.

“Soon,” you agreed. And you reminded him, even as your throat constricted once more with emotion. “Ben, I love you…God, I love you. And I’ve never wanted this with anyone but you.”

Ben paused, but after a moment, he nodded in acceptance. You were grateful for it. Even though you weren’t quite ready yet, he wasn’t the only one who wanted a family.

While your fractured past and upbringing made it hard for you to move past your fears, your insecurities, you knew that this man made you feel safe.

For the first time in your life, you also felt whole.

Soon enough, you’d be brave too.

AN: That's all, folks. Been a great ride...

Ha! Just kidding. I'm nowhere near done with these two, even with this long-ass epilogue lol.

But honestly, no matter what part of the journey you jumped into with this story, thank you so much for sticking with me until the end. It's truly been one of my favorite stories ever to write. And I'm so glad I got the chance to share it with you. 🥹💚🥹

Next Time:

Ready for Part 2 (of 3) of "Love Actually"?

(AKA: Ben is forced to attend Christmas dinner to meet his girlfriend's whole family.)

Here's a sneak peek:

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—”

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze.

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke...

😂 Until then, let me know what you thought of the BMD finale! 💚💚

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@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

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#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

Text

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song."

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention.

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard."

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night."

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked.

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking."

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band."

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right."

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid.

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!"

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!"

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation.

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover.

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?"

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me."

"What does it look like?" You asked.

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one."

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told."

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it."

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned?

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back.

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner.

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table.

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this."

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care."

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-"

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor.

"It was a gift." He finished anyway.

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head.

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much."

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered.

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering."

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me."

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.”

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage.

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help?

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition.

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly.

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack.

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile.

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you.

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?"

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy."

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music.

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush.

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone."

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans."

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?"

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side.

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

#doctor strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x you #what if #what if marvel #doctor strange supreme #tw guns #tw abusive parent

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 304: The Council of OFA

Previously on BnHA: Hawks and Best Jeanist were all, “what up Todofam, we are here to apply for the positions of ‘son #4’ and ‘weird uncle’, respectively,” and then proceeded to insert themselves into the family drama without waiting for an answer. Hawks briefed Endeavor on the nation’s current status of “totally fucked”, promised to help him sort that out, and then asked him about OFA. Endeavor was all, “oh do you mean One For All, the mysterious thing that my intern Deku was apparently being targeted for?” and then we cut away, presumably before Endeavor could clarify that it never occurred to him to follow up on that, and Hawks was all “no of course not, why would it occur to anyone other than me to follow up on any of this super weird and ominously important shit.” Anyway so meanwhile Bakugou was all “LET ME SCREAM AT DEKU UNTIL HE WAKES UP” and the other kids were all “NO”, and then the chapter ended with All Might being all “I wonder what the vestige!me is currently chatting with Deku about.”

Today on BnHA: Deku drops in on the Vestiges, who are all “sup Deku, how do you like our fancy chairs.” OFA II and III are all “if you need us we’ll just be standing here silently in the corner pretending to be invisible and sparking endless discourse with our mere existence.” OFA IV is all “and now I will explain to you in a very convoluted way that you being quirkless was actually a good thing, since it means that you are probably not going to suddenly drop dead at the age of twenty. But also you’re probably going to be the last user of OFA for that very same reason.” Deku is all “that is wild. I’m just gonna stand here and stare at my hand.” Nana is all “so now that that’s settled could you please do me a small favor and kill my grandson for me”, because having just one topic to discourse about this week WASN’T ENOUGH, apparently. Thanks so much Horikoshi.

(ETA: okay so just a note before I start, this week’s RHA translation was a huge mess, so I followed up this chapter by reading a couple of other translations. the main one I’m using for reference is the one by @hanashimas, whose weekly posts I highly recommend. anyway so you’ll see a couple of ETAs in this post in places where the initial translation was off.)

how many layers of bandages did they wrap this poor kid’s fucking hand in omg

jesus Deku. are you holding onto a bouquet of flowers under that thing?? or a tennis racket??

omg yes, finally

is he reading these names off a teleprompter lol. and if so, what has Jeanist ever done to slight you, Deku? “god bless Kacchan and Aizawa-sensei and Todoroki-kun and everyone else in the whole wide world... except for Best Jeanist. fuck that guy.” actually this joke would be funnier if half of tumblr didn’t legit feel that way lol but anyway

OH MY GOD

I NEED TO HAVE A TALK TOO. ABOUT, OH, EVERYTHING

I got immediate KHR vibes from ALL OF THIS. this is seriously such a Vongola aesthetic. “let’s use the luxuriously cushioned chairs with the seat backs that are ten feet high, and arrange all of the handsome ghost people in a big circle” like come on

that said there are also some slight LoTR vibes as well. “bring forth the ring, Deku”

I like how Six is sitting there with his feet drawn up all casual, but with his arms inexplicably sticking STRAIGHT OUT IN FRONT OF HIM and dangling over his knees like he’s doing some sort of zombie walk

apparently the Fourth wasn’t a big fan of shoes huh

interesting that All Might is the only one who’s still faint/indistinct, and and that Two and Three are fully visible

(ETA: the rest of my speculation about Two and Three has been moved into a separate post, the better to focus on the shit that’s actually happening in this chapter lol.)

and lastly, interesting that all of them are talking now, except for All Might (and I guess the Second and Third as well). to the best of my knowledge Deku hasn’t unlocked the Sixth’s quirk yet, so I guess the quirks don’t really have anything to do with it

oh and it looks like Deku’s mouth is still covered. I guess that’s convenient for the vestiges since we all know it’s hard to stop Deku once he gets going. but on the other hand it’s very inconvenient for people like me who wanted to see some interaction. alas

so First says that OFA’s power has grown a lot in the last four months (i.e. since Deku unlocked Blackwhip), and now the vestiges can communicate with each other as well as Deku

so even when Deku’s not around they can all just chill with each other. this is such a weird thing to me lol. like it’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also strange as hell to know that you’ve got eight other people hanging out in your head spying on everything you do and having conversations with each other about it. it would be like if Dark Shadow had someone to hang out with other than Tokoyami. good thing you weren’t triplets, Tokoyami

First says that it’s become easier for the vestiges to interact with Deku ever since TomurAFO barged into the OFA Domain back at Jakku. huh

(ETA: apparently this is because AFO forcibly pulled out OFA’s power when he was trying to steal the quirk, so I guess that makes sense.)

okay thank you Banjou for addressing this concern which I initially brought up as a joke, but which was apparently real enough for you to reassure Deku about

“don’t worry, even though we’re awake and hanging out inside of you at all times, we’re definitely not secretly watching and making fun of every single thing you do” hmmmmm

(ETA: “not that you could do anything about it even if we were, since you’re probably going to be the last OFA holder ever!” I don’t trust anything this asshole says lmao.)

OH SHIT??

YESSS DEKU now you can hold them accountable for all of their bullshit! because I do not doubt that there will be bullshit lol but let’s see how that goes

oh damn

well okay then. you didn’t have to stand up and walk over to him and loom all threateningly like that but okay sir

this guy has kind of a Kimimaro vibe to him. remember? that bone-growing guy from Naruto? except I’m pretty sure he had eyebrows. and wasn’t twenty feet tall. speaking of which, that explains the chairs

why are you wearing only 3/5ths of a shirt

lol what

someone’s gonna have to explain this to me. is he just redundant or something lol, or is he strangely poetical or what

(ETA: apparently HE’S MAKING A PUN omg. I immediately gained +10 love for him lol. also it flows a lot better in Japanese. this is one of the things Caleb is usually good at, so we’ll see what he does with the wordplay.)

omg the hermit theory is true!!

“I’M NOT WEIRD, IT’S SOCIETY WHICH IS WEIRD.” lol whatever you say buddy. also love how Banjou tried to give him a big hearty slap on the back but Hermit Boy was not having it lmao

IS HE TRYING TO CAPTURE HIM WITH BLACKWHIP

AND ACTUALLY, NO, SIR, AS A MATTER OF FACT, WE ARE NOT AWARE. SO SPILL!!

?!!?

okay my first response was LOL ARE YOU SERIOUS, THAT’S THE BIG SECRET!? -- and then it hit me what the significance of “died from old age... AT AGE FORTY” meant. at which point it was like “!!!!!” and then “OH, SHIT”

(ETA: there’s also an Iida joke here somewhere but I’m just too tired to make it.)

oh my god oh my god

did he somehow get a copy of the coroner’s report or something? like how does he even know that he died from “old age” as opposed to any number of other natural causes? ??

but anyway. so this is the quirk singularity coming into play then I guess. but then how come All Might is still alive and ticking?

(ETA: so this is one example of where this week’s translation is a mess lol. apparently the Fourth explains here that he didn’t know what the fuck he died from until All Might researched it. and it turns out there actually was an autopsy lol so there you go.)

so Fourth says he held OFA for eighteen years, and since he knew he would never be strong enough to defeat AFO on his own he basically just spent all his time punching rocks in the woods and training to power the quirk up

oh shit

is he implying that his body literally fell apart?? like that’s how he got the scars on his face? -- IS THAT WHAT KEEPS HAPPENING TO TOMURA, THEN. oh shit

DUDE

so you’re telling me that this quirk actively shortens the lifespan of anyone who uses it?? and my little boy here has had it now for a year already?? fuck me, I have immediately have a TON of thoughts about all this but let me save it until he’s done with his explanation

THANK YOU, DEKU

right?? how come All Might didn’t die then. even after he got injured. please don’t tell me he actually is dying still and is just being slow about it because I SWEAR TO GOD

what does this mean??

so what you’re trying to say is you all have NO FUCKING IDEA how long Deku’s gonna be able to hold this quirk before he SUDDENLY DROPS DEAD?! five generations ago this dude was able to hold it for eighteen years, and then four generations later All Might was able to hold it for thirty-odd years or so, and now Deku has it and you all have no clue which way it’s gonna go? actually this makes it sound like it really wasn’t OFA that killed the Fourth at all and you guys are just really bad at forming hypotheses. but since you’re making a big plot point out of it I guess it must be true

and don’t think I didn’t notice the part where you said you didn’t have OFA very long and then “died while fighting”, Firsto. I want to hear more about that. specifically who you passed the quirk onto before your death

and yes, if we are agreeing that OFA was the cause of the Fourth’s death, then the conclusion on this next page is the natural one to draw

so that’s a bit of a relief then, because Deku is quirkless too. so it means he won’t be able to hold OFA forever (and will probably have to find another quirkless person to pass it on to), but at least he won’t be randomly dying out of the blue next Tuesday or something

oh my god now he’s talking about OFA and AFO and user consciousnesses and all sorts of good theory stuff but it’s so much exposition. you’re really gonna make me read all this lol

wait what. why would All Might being quirkless have anything to do with the presence of his vestige in OFA Outer Space Party Land

but Deku is also quirkless and he’s clearly visible and chatting with you guys. so what gives. like how much of this is verified fact and how much of it is you guys just shrugging and making stuff up lol

SERIOUSLY, GUYS

BUT DEKU IS ALSO -- you know what, never mind sob. none of this shit makes any sense but whatever

(ETA: seriously, this all seems like an awful lot of speculation on their part. for Deku’s sake I sure hope they’re right.)

FSSKDJFLSKLKJLKJL ALL MIGHT IS FIFTY-FIVE?!

lol that’s a full ten years past my closest estimate, wow. but this pretty much confirms his age now at last! or at least confirms it within a couple of years, because we know All Might and Nana met when he was in middle school, and he presumably had the quirk by the time he took the U.A. entrance exam. so yeah. gonna go with fifty-five

so they think that because All Might was quirkless, OFA was better able to adapt to his body and became his true quirk, as opposed to being an extra quirk that stacked on top of the one he already had and overwhelmed him. ties in back to the whole “AFO used to bend people to his will by forcing quirks on them” thing, as well as the “Noumus are all mindless because of the strain of having multiple quirks”

Two and Three are really ruining the serious vibe of this scene here lol

they look like they’re doing the counting for hide and seek

and is this Deku talking now? I was about to get mad at First for implying that quirkless people are somehow freaks, as opposed to “normal” people jdslk

so in other words, don’t go giving it to your best friend all casually for shits and giggles, Deku. even if it would make a really cool climax for a movie. well shit. maybe that’s why they were so quick to nope back into Deku’s body afterward

so First says that because quirkless people are becoming rarer and rarer, the fact that All Might just happened to stumble upon Deku is “nothing short of a miracle.” which, yeah, that was definitely a stroke of luck there. being quirkless saved his life. but being quirkless is also part of why he was chosen in the first place, and we’ve always known that much

“in other words, kiddo...”

looks like there was some hurried clone stamp usage going on here lol. but props to RHA as always for putting this scan out so fast, especially given how exposition-heavy this week’s chapter has been

“anyways, that was the main topic” ARE YOU SERIOUS. there are like ten other topics imma need you all to get to here, people

(ETA: seems like this is a mistranslation; the line should actually read something more along the lines of “and now for the main topic.”)

FFFFFFFFF

“ENJOY YOUR CLIFFHANGER THIS WEEK.” dskfalkjlkjwlgkjl you really went and dumped this discourse on us yet again. fucking...

(ETA: forgot to mention, but as several people mentioned, this seems to be another mistranslation -- rather than asking Deku to kill Tomura as though it’s doing her a personal favor, Nana is asking “will you be able to do it.” in other words more of an “are you capable of doing it” type of thing. which is a very reasonable question to ask given that Deku is, well, Deku.)

anyways, and the answer is obviously going to be “no” of course. this isn’t going to end any differently than when the previous Avatars all told Aang to kill Ozai. but I guess it means we’re in for a fun conversation next week

so Nana looks pretty grim here though (nothing at all like the person who once taught All Might the importance of saving people with a smile), and I’m wondering if this means she believes that her grandson is already beyond saving. as in killing him would be a mercy, as opposed to him continuing to live with AFO bending his mind and body to his will. except if that is the case, I think she’s underestimating Tomura’s own will. and definitely underestimating Deku’s will to save

and also, just... I’m so fucking sick of AFO screwing the Shimura family over, honestly. this is exactly what he wanted. well fuck you, guy. you don’t get to have what you want. go out there and save Tomura, Deku. for his sake and for Nana’s. give them some hope. do your thing, boy. can’t wait for your big speech all about it next chapter lol

#bnha 304 #midoriya izuku #all might #ofa prime #ofa iv #idk what his name is I forgot it already lol #the actual forty-year-old man #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #ofa the first

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