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lewkwoodnco · 1 year ago

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Falling For You - Lockwood x Reader

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

a/n: tfw you almost die in the arms of your future employer :) rip lockwood and co, never an agents first choice be it in canon or fanon ok ill stop now also just to be clear we’re all ignoring how much the title sucks ass okay god only gave out a limited number of brain cells and we can’t ALL be as creative as @bella-rose29 (will make a separate post on this a little later, not enough space here) (but also she was SICKKK for coming up w the title deck the halls (and not your partner) ok didn’t mean to turn this into a belle appreciation post but 👍)

warnings/tropes: fluff fluff FLUFF, this is about as fluffy as it gets from me ashdkd, cringy pick up lines overload, also I declare plagiarism (?) of some rlly popular incorrect quotes, you'll know it when you read them

word count: 2.6k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She and Lucy were in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and waiting for the boys to reach home. The four of them had split up to get some errands done that morning before breakfast - she and Lucy went to collect the payment for a few jobs, while Lockwood and George dropped off some paperwork at DEPRAC headquarters. Lucy put the kettle on while she refilled their teabag jar, and a minute later the boys walked in.

George was telling Lockwood off for something, who wasn't looking too sorry for whatever it was that he had done, though he clearly cared enough to try to suppress his giggles.

"Those forms took me hours, Lockwood. I wasn't about to let you drop them into some slush."

"I keep telling you, I wasn't going to drop them."

"How would you know when you were too busy making an ass of yourself?"

"I haven't seen a good pickup line in a while, George. You found it funny too."

"Yes, and the threat of you chucking our forms was downright hilarious."

She handed out the mugs of tea.

"What pickup line?"

"It was just a DEPRAC ad. Something like 'Are you a wraith? Because you have me love-locked.' Just a reminder of some quick signs of a visitor presence for Valentine's Day."

She meandered over to where Lockwood was standing at the kitchen counter, a little too casual. He immediately snapped up whatever he was scribbling. She looked mildly (read: exaggeratedly) injured, but he just gave her one of his winning smiles. Really, she was well within her rights to be suspicious.

"S'that?"

"A bill."

"What bill?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

"Show me the bill."

"You're adorable."

It was a poor excuse of an attempt at a distraction, as she immediately started trying to snatch it away. Lockwood just held the folded paper above his head, trying to pry his jacket out of her yanking hands. After a minute or so of vehement struggling, the scuffle ended the way all of their scuffles ended - her playing at sour grapes.

"Oh! Go boil-yer-head. I don't even want to see that bill anyway."

He slotted the letter into an envelope smoothly as George cut in.

"Speaking of bills, hopefully, we'll be able to pay more of them off soon. Couples like to go away for Valentine's, so it's the perfect time to get any lingering visitors taken care of. We should put an ad in the paper, like DEPRAC."

That set Lockwood off again, and George groaned. As he got up to get another biscuit, she conspiratorially turned to Lockwood.

"Y'know, for someone who's so tickled by pickup lines, I bet you'd be terrible at them."

"Not more terrible than you."

"I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

Their bet had taken a back burner in her mind while she was preparing for their case that night, but she was still immediately suspicious when she walked into the kitchen to see Lockwood innocently snacking on a bowl of raisins.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing! Can't a guy eat his raisins?" He silently proferred the bowl to her. She narrowed her eyes.

"No thanks."

"How about a date?"

"When did we get - oh. Ha ha." There was a mischievous crinkle in Lockwood's eye. "Sneaky. I was busy preparing for our case, like a proper agent."

"Hmm, excuses, excuses."

"Fine. If George finds out you haven't read tonight's case file, you're on your own."

"NO no no no please please please -"

She prepped a few pickup lines before they left, just enough to stop Lockwood from becoming completely unbearable.

"Are you a visitor? Because you've been haunting my dreams."

She scrunched up her nose. "Boo. That's terrible."

"You try coming up with a visitor-themed one. They're all so horrible."

She paused for a minute.

"Are you a Lurker? 'Cause you're making my heart race."

"...no one likes a show-off," he grumbled, and she smiled to herself as they continued rooting through boxes, looking for a potential Source.

"Your hand looks heavy. Could I hold it for you?"

"What's it like to be the most gorgeous person in this room?" That one got a good laugh out of him.

"Might be more flattering if my competition wasn't a Raw Bones. You’re pretty and I’m cute. Wanna be pretty cute together?"

"If you and I were socks, we'd make a great pair."

She revelled in the huge smile that lit up his face. She knew he'd get a kick out of that one.

She hadn't expected to have as much fun with their game as she did. They recounted their highlights to Lucy and George on the way home, which made for an entertaining end to the case. As Lucy and George put away their coats, Lockwood lingered behind, looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite find the words. She became even more alarmed when he placed a hand on her shoulder, because of how serious he looked.

"Is everything okay?"

He took a shaky breath and tightened his grip on her shoulder ever so slightly.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I'll give it right back."

The line itself wasn't particularly outrageous, but in the darkness by the door, with their faces in the shadows and him holding her close, she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"Good one," she whispered.

He gave her a sloping smile and retreated into the kitchen. She stood there for a moment, thinking about the warmth on her shoulder, as if his hand was still there.

"Did it hurt?"

"When I fell from heaven?"

"When you fell down the stairs. Right in front of us. It's been ten minutes and you haven't even gotten up yet."

With a strangled wheeze, he righted himself, looking more than a little stupid with his affronted expression and hair sticking up in all directions. They were on a case, and Lockwood had been a bit too close to the stairs whilst investigating the death glow on the landing. It had been quite a painful-looking rollercoaster of a fall with many bumps as he flailed for the railings, ending with a muffled scream.

"I was checking for broken bones."

"For ten minutes? Do you even have that many bones?"

He had an oily smirk on his face, though it was mostly nullified by his slightly crossed eyes.

"I've got...so many bones, I could give you a...wait. No. Hey lady, do you want a...bone? If you were a bone, you'd be in my...body...my body has all the bones...hang on. Okay, got it. Bones....fuck."

"...concussion?"

"Nuh-uh."

That was the moment his knees chose to buckle under him, and the three of them hurried to hold him upright. Even though he kept insisting he was fine, he was looking far too pale and woozy, so they flagged down a cab and pushed Lockwood into it. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, she joined him in the cab while George and Lucy got to stay to finish the job.

It had been a bit of a challenge to fumble for the key to the front door with the dead weight that was Lockwood compressing her spine, but she somehow managed. She tried her best to keep track of all of his long limbs after he knocked his head on the side of the door frame, groaning again. She dumped him onto their living room sofa, going down with him in the process, and with some difficulty peeled herself out of his grip. The bump had clearly taken quite a bit out of him, for by the time she returned with a blanket, he had completely passed out.

With some difficulty, she wrestled his rapier off of him and draped the blanket over him. She put away her own gear and rapier and curled up with a book on the armchair opposite the sofa. It was odd to see Lockwood sleeping. And even more odd to see him doing it so peacefully, like all thoughts and worries had been knocked clean out of his head. Much like her thoughts, the first time they met.

It hadn’t even been her goddamn fault. She had been lugging around her uncle’s rapiers since hers had been sent for cleaning and it was starting to make her arm ache. She deserved a little lean, no doubt. Only, what she thought was the door frame had been the door itself, so when her then-future employer had opened the door, she stumbled right into his arms.

And then promptly fell out of them when he let her go by surprise. To his credit, he was superfluously apologetic and sympathetic, and kept asking if her head was alright throughout the interview. It was a little annoying, if she were entirely honest, but she was grateful when that sympathy translated into a job, because all coherent thoughts in her head were lying somewhere on their front door runner.

As much as she tried not to think about the incident since Lockwood showed no sign of doing so himself, it kept her up at night more than she'd like to admit. But it had also been rather liberating, as there was little else she could do that would be any worse.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lockwood began to stir after an hour or so, opening his eyes blearily. She instinctively put her book down and crouched next to the sofa, where she immediately felt awkward. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand on his forehead, and they blinked at each other in confusion.

"How're you feeling?"

"Great." He cleared his throat, which barely helped his hoarse voice. "Chipper."

"Are you sure? Feeling chilly?"

"No, I'm fine. Are you a construction worker?"

"...huh?"

"Because you are building."

"What."

"I win."

He turned to his side and buried his face into his cushion with a satisfied look on his face.

"Oh, Lockwood. I don't think..."

He pulled his head out of the cushion alarmingly fast. That couldn't have been good for his neck. "Ohhh, too good for my pickup lines now, eh?"

"I...what?"

"I get a bump on my head and you don't like my pickup lines no more?"

"Why do you have a Brooklyn accent?"

"You's got a Brooklyn accent."

"Okay, now you're just throwing a tantrum."

He fussed for a few more minutes, muttering out of the corner of his mouth or into the cushion, but eventually calmed down. As his eyes fluttered close, his breathing becoming long and even, she quietly got up to leave.

"Just so you know...I do think you're building."

The Brooklyn accent was gone, and though his low murmur was comfortably familiar, something in it sent a spark running through her brain.

"I think you're building too."

She could have sworn he had a small smile before his mouth relaxed as he drifted off again.

She didn't see much of him after that, given how much rest he needed, and the reprieve from their game was a welcome relief. The pickup lines didn't slide off her tongue as easily when she meant them as much as she did now. Still, she couldn't hide from him forever, and ran into him in the kitchen a few nights later.

"Oh. Hey."

He held up the biscuit tin. "Hello. Catching up on my biscuit rations."

She smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Definitely. A little sick of lying about, but I think I've finally got my head on straight."

He smiled, and the tension between them melted. She smiled back.

"Must have been scary, having your brain go wonky like that."

"It was...wild. I don't even know how I had the presence of mind to put my rapier away."

Her cheeks burned as she pointedly rummaged through their pantry for a snack while Lockwood brewed tea for the both of them. They sat at the kitchen table in silence, slowly sipping their tea as they ignored the elephant in the room. That is, until Lockwood broached the subject.

“Did it hurt?”

She put her mug down. “Lockwood.”

“Did it hurt?” He pressed, firmly.

“I’ve already heard this one.”

“Just - humour me for a minute, won’t you?”

She looked at the little she could see of his face, given how close they were sitting, and gave a small sigh.

“So. Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

“When you fell into my life.”

He lightly squeezed her hand, it was only then that she realised that they were holding hands. She choked on her breath in a mildly undignified manner, but with the proximity and the unexpected answer, she was well and truly taken aback. She waited for the embarrassment to kick in. There were a lot of things to be embarrassed about at that moment - how he could probably see every imperfection on her face, how he could probably tell how nervous she was getting from how clammy her palm must be, and of course that he remembered their dreadfully embarrassing first encounter.

But the shame never came. If anything, she felt oddly…touched. There wasn’t anything embarrassing about the memory anymore. It was…as much as it pained her to admit it…slightly romantic. She looked away from his face, shaking her head slightly, staring at their gripping hands. So easy it was to hold onto each other in the shadows, but terrifying in the daylight. Scratch that, it was terrifying to see herself holding his hand just as tightly as he held hers. Maybe he did compel…something in her.

His hand disappeared into his pocket, and a moment later he was pulling out a familiar, weathered envelope.

"I've never...I've never asked anyone to be my Valentine. Never knew how it worked. Still don't really know how it works. So I tried writing it all down, and..." Lockwood frowned at the loopy yet measured scrawls in front of him. He sighed in defeat, crumpling the letter. "...and I still don't know how it works."

She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "Me neither. But..." she tore her eyes away from the table, looking at his face with his emotions stacked plain as day. "I think we know enough."

She curled her fingers into his. Years ago, she hadn't thought knowing if she was in love would ever be an issue, but for so many years she struggled to find the love they wrote books, songs and poetry about. But sitting here now, in the dim light of the kitchen, with a person whose face she could trace in her sleep, she realised Little Her had had it right all along.

“I always thought you were very nice to me in that interview. A little too nice.”

“You didn’t hear the way you screamed. I thought you were going down with a heart attack.”

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #fanfiction #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #valentines day #fluff

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avonne-writes · 8 months ago

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Confess

(Elaborating on my au idea that Bucky would submit anon confessions about Gale to their university's confessions page)

#Confess82664

To the gorgeous blond camping his cute ass on the library 3rd floor every Sat. You are so hot, i am so in love, please like this there is nobody as attractive in the world PLS give me a chance

- B

#Confess82706

Saw you at the library again tonight baby, you helped the blind old man down the stairs you are so sweet 🥹 are you single? Xx

- B to Blondie

#Confess82735

Blondie, are you into guys? Because wow!!!😻🤩😍🥵 your eyes are bluer than the brightest blue skies

- B

#Confess82761

RE: #Confess82735

U gotta work on ur poetry dude

#Confess82778

Is it possible to fall in love with someone you’ve only spoken to once?

- B

#Confess82794

Blondie you are unbelievably fine like straight up insanely beautiful and so smart Ive seen those tomes you're lugging around do you need a hand? Ill give you both of my hands or my mouth ass anything if you need on my knees for you doll

- B

#Confess82798

RE: #Confess82794

Loverboy needs a cold shower asap

#Confess82842

Blondie I'm sitting right across from you in the library, I see you eating that muffin behind your book, you’re so cute when you’re sneaky, I wanna kiss the chocolate off your fingers

- B

#Confess82888

I love your laugh Blondie. Wanna do more mischief with you

- B

#Confess82910

Hungover as fuck but seeing Blondie nerd out to his friends is worth staying alive

- B

#Confess82967

To Blondie who's always in the library Im thinking about you 😍

- B

#Confess82972

RE: #Confess82867

we all know loverboy 🙄 ever thought of actually asking him out???

#Confess82973

RE: #Confess82867

B, at what point do you snap from the sexual tension and do something about it?

#Confess83956

RE: #Confess82867

loverboy and blondie just hook up already and stop making everyone suffer through ur love story

#Confess84085

RE: #Confess82867

been a while since we heard from loverboy b, he dead? blondie blew him off i bet

#Confess84115

sex was so good with you doll i nearly said i love you after a week but gonna hold out for two

- B

#Confess84022

Mods can we get B banned somehow? Never felt so fucking single in my life

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #my writing #confessions page au

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pucktoxicity · 5 months ago

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i had a whole message ready to go and dropped my phone, so this might end up being shorter. first, as context, i went to a massive hockey school and was with my boyfriend who was on the team throughout our time there and after. still talk with him, but i’ll be honest and say that all the sh*t that comes with having a relationship with someone that’s high profile was just too much.

1. the reading stuff is hilarious. obviously they can read—they just don’t HAVE to read. even in college. was at a party at one of his teammate’s places and opened the fridge to grab something and there were textbooks, still in the plastic, sitting on the top shelf. it was a class i was also taking. when I confronted the guy about it as I held said textbooks in hand laughing (it was near midterms) he said “it doesn’t matter. i’ll pass.” he passed and it definitely wasn’t because he understood a damn thing in that course.

2. cliques exist on teams. ill break that down further. my boyfriend hung with like five of his teammates and a handful of athletes from another big sport at my school. those were who we were around on any given day. on weekends after games, or if there was a stretch with a break from some games, the entire team would go out. your ass better be at those team events or if not you better have a good reason why you’re not there. there was an issue off the ice involving the team and there was definitely a rift afterwards because a few of the guys were not there. it made for a really bad season with a team that should have done well.

3. they’re not tagging pics in real-time. they’ll post stuff a few days later with the tags on the locations so people think they know where they are if they post anything at all. that’s equally true for public and private accounts where tracking can be controlled. im sure most people recognize this, but i’ve never seen it stated outright. i was even asked to hold off on posting things until we were somewhere else even though my accounts are private. if they want you to know where they are, you’ll know where they are.

4. for the love of god do not send them nudes. not unless you want that entire team and possibly more to have them. getting nudes was a game to them.

5. which brings me to—they are ALWAYS involved in some sort of game or challenge with one another. the nudes was one, i can’t give anything more specific because i’d likely dox myself. not really feeling up for that blowback. just—they’re always betting each other over something and keeping tabs/score with something likely unrelated to hockey. sometimes it’s funny and sometimes “ew.” but there’s always something.

6. the sh*t they do off ice is hilarious and often unexpected. one of my best friends is the biggest a-hole on the ice, led the team in penalties, etc. off ice he’s the nicest human you will ever meet. he doesn’t read for fun, but he’s a nerd over a specific genre of movies that you wouldn’t expect. video games are pretty constant. they’re psychotically competitive even with those. watching giant man children rage quit video games is hilarious. oh and some of them have the weirdest habits. can’t really elaborate on that one. if anything i’d send it another time.

7. as someone that had a whole school watching my every move and then a whole city watching my every move, i can tell you it gets old fast—for everyone involved. i had people (guys and girls) show up where i lived. 95% of the sh*t i read online that was supposedly about me, him, me and him, etc was not even close to true. take what you see about any of the players or the people involved with them with a grain of salt.

8. sadly some of the worst guys are the ones in the longest relationships, or had families, etc. that was really horrifying to me. strictly anecdotal to my experience with two teams and their circles, but yeah. it was bad.

9. because the question comes up a lot—where? i met my boyfriend at mandatory study hall freshman year because im also an athlete. we never talk hockey. i talk hockey with my other friends and family, never with him or his teammates. he’s in it all day everyday, it’s his job, just like when im done with work i know i don’t want to talk about it, they’re the same way. if he brings it up, sure, but i’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to do that.

and for those keeping score: tall and natural blonde. many of his teammates over the years dated brunettes but they almost always ended up dying their hair blonde. so I don’t know if it’s blondes initially all the time. if anything i would just add that WAGs are their own beast with all the peer pressure and competitiveness of a team. the going blonde thing might be due to the pressures within that group.

way longer message than i intended but hopefully some valuable insight for those who have asked. as you’ve said, they’re humans like anyone else, their job is just different. oh, and summers were mostly working with skills coaches and rehabbing injuries/getting surgeries that are overdue that weren’t publicized. the public doesn’t know half the sh*t these guys are playing through.

everyone thank this anon for her service because this is absolutely perfect, no notes.

the ones i can most agree with / corroborate from my own experiences: she is 100% correct. do not send these guys nudes (i never have & never will, but know that they get them spread around quickly!!), and the same goes for competing over things. good lord, it’ll be the stupidest shit sometimes too but somehow it becomes a competition 😭 it’s crazy! and the same goes for schoolwork. it’s not just hockey. i have a friend who went to an SEC school with a historic football team (and sorority rush, cough cough), and she said the same thing about football players. they’ll pass. no matter what. doesn’t mean they’ll have a 4.0, but they’ll pass enough. i’m sure it’s the same with big hockey schools up here and the midwest as it is in the south with football. that doesn’t surprise me at all, unfortunately.

also, that last line. the public doesn’t know half the shit these guys are playing through. YUP. the things their bodies go through in not just a season, but in one game, are absolutely insane. and she’s very correct about privately-handled, unannounced offseason surgeries. 🙂‍↕️

i think the most interesting thing for you guys to see is her insight that most brunette WAGs end up going blonde & that whole explanation of the blonde WAG stereotype in every level of hockey.

whoever you are, i adore you, this was an amazing read, and if you ever want to talk privately in dms and stuff, i’d love to! if not, no worries, and thank you for stopping by & talking to me 🥰💋❤️

#hockey gossip #team information

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starrgaziinggg · 1 year ago

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DONT LET ME LOVE YOU | hwang hyunjin

royal au | prince hyunjin x princess reader

PART TWO -> the plan (6k words) (smut warning!)

directory

Jeongin's house was practically your second home. His parents had left him a small fortune when they died, allowing him to keep and maintain the house they'd left in his name. It had served you well over the years, especially when you needed some time away from your overbearing duties.

The cottage lay encapsulated by greenery; shrubs and tall oak trees leaving it hidden to the naked eye. It was one of those places you would only be able to find if you knew were to look. Jeongin had told you it was his great grandmas, and she had handed ownership down the family. That was evident from how old the building was, the walls covered in years worth of vines and wisteria.

After informing your brother of what your whereabouts were going to be for the next week, you'd had to beg him not to say anything to your father. "He'll just get on at me for not being at the palace," you'd said, not wanting to explain to your potentially traitorous brother the real reason you were leaving the palace for just short of a week.

Chan had, peculiarly, dismissed you quite simply. He'd appeared busy at the time, working in your fathers office, and you'd returned to Jeongin in your bedroom relatively easily. An hour was all it took for you to pack a bag of essentials, grab your horses and start your journey to Jeongin's house.

He sits in front of you, now, holding an array of playing cards in his hands. He was bluffing - you were almost certain of it. You could read all his tells - the way his eyebrows raised slightly whenever he lied, his confidence growing.

"I win," you say simply when the time comes, laying your cards flat onto the table after Jeongin reveals his hand. He scoffs, double takes, and then sits back on his heels and rolls his eyes.

"It's unfair," he whines, collecting his hand of playing cards and shuffling them. "I bet you were literally trained on how to play cards well."

You don't bother arguing with him, because he's kind of right.

"Another round?" Jeongin asks, but you shake your head in response. You'd only been at the cottage for an hour or so, but you were already getting antsy. After making sure the horses were safe in the stable behind the house, you and Jeongin had brought out the cards whilst you waited for Minho to arrive. You'd had word from Felix that he'd managed to get a pardon from his duties under the pretence that he'd come down with an illness and needed to set the next couple of days out.

Minho was supposed to already be here, though. You'd told Felix to tell him two sharp, reinforcing that you meant two in the afternoon and not two in the middle of night. Yet, here you were at just past three with no sign of him.

You needed his intel to even start putting together the basis of a plan. Three heads worked better than two, especially when the third head was a Royal Guard of your rival court and could bring information that would be impossible for you to ever get your hands on.

"Why don't I make us some lunch?" Jeongin says suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts and putting the deck of cards back into their case. He stands up from the floor of the cosy living area, smiling down at you. "I brought some food with me."

"You mean you stole some from the larder," you point out, tilting your head and pulling yourself up from the floor. "They do daily stock checks, so it's your ass if they find out, by the way."

Jeongin waves a hand in front of his face as though he doesn't care, which you assume he probably doesn't. He could talk circles round anyone, that boy. He walks past the sofa from the front of the downstairs area and into the kitchen in the back corner, pulling out a load of bread from the cupboard and laying it onto the countertop.

"Why don't you put your stuff in your room?" He proposes, turning around to talk to you face on from where you remained behind the couch. "I thought Minho could use the room straight on from the stairs, and you could use the one to the left? I'll be in the one on the right."

You nod, giving him a half smile. "Who thought we'd ever see the day Minho is sleeping in the same quarters as us?" You ask, picking up the bag you had packed which you'd dumped onto the floor upon arrival.

"If he ever shows up, that is," Jeongin points out, looking towards the old grandfather clock that sat against the wall to his left. You shrug, unable to say much else, as you wander up the stairs and into the bedroom you usually stayed in whilst you crashed here.

Jeongin had seemingly gone to great lengths to try and make his home as inviting as possible. He'd changed all the bed sheets and cleaned up tremendously since the last time you'd stayed, which may or may not have involved a bottle of your dads best champagne and the two of you getting way drunker than you should have.

You open your bag onto the bed, pulling out your clothes and placing them in a dresser. You'd be here for the next week, after all, and as silly as it seemed you thought it would ease your nerves to try and make yourself seem at home here. This whole situation was completely unknown territory, and you honestly felt as though you were in over your head.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind, you finish unpacking, taking a minute to look out the window and watch the setting sun. Now that the warmer weather was well and truly gone, darkness surrounded you quicker than it used to. There was some sort of commotion going on downstairs, and your best bet was that Jeongin had some how fucked up making sandwiches, though that wasn't so hard to believe.

You have to blink a couple times after you walk downstairs and see Minho sitting at the counter, practically hoovering up a sandwich as Jeongin stands at the other side of the counter filling up a glass of water.

"When did you get here?" You ask, taking the sandwich Jeongin had handed to you and taking a bite.

"Two minutes ago," Minho responds before chugging the rest of his water and placing the glass back onto the counter. "It was a mission."

"How come?" You take a seat beside him, giving Jeongin a look. He shrugs in response, leaning against the counter to listen to Minho talk.

"Do you know how hard it is to get out my duties and escape palace grounds and steal classified information all in the span of a day?" He states the obvious, raising an eyebrow at you. "This isn't going to be an easy feat, princess. We're wasting time just sitting here."

You nod, trying to hide the roll of your eyes. It was obvious Minho ran a very militant ship, which was not what you nor Jeongin were used to. But, if it meant saving both of your courts from whatever shit storm was about to brew, you'd be more than happy to get on board.

Minho bends down to pick his bag up from the floor, unzipping it to bring out a folder. He pulls out some documents as Jeongin clears space on the table, spreading out the sheets of paper.

"Correspondence from the logs of people who have entered in and out of the palace," he states, pointing at a few pieces of paper. "Dated back to a month ago. There's not much information, just your brothers initials a couple times, but it proves I wasn't lying about your brother being involved in all of this. The logs are kept hidden, but even though your brother has been coming secretly, they still keep note. Probably incase he tries to deny it."

It's true; your brothers thick handwriting is scrawled on these pages, his initials in multiple places on the sheets. You lean back in your seat as you read them, feeling Jeongin's intense gaze on you.

"So Chan really is double crossing us?" He thinks aloud. "His own family?"

"Don't jump to that conclusion too quickly," Minho offers, his tone surprisingly gentle. "I know what it looks like, but we don't want to paint him the bad guy so quickly. We still don't know why he was meeting with Hyunjin's dad."

"And you don't think Hyunjin knew anything about this?" You ask, turning to look at Minho directly. He shakes his head.

"I mean, I can never speak for certain, but I was with him almost every hour of every day before he left for training. The only times I wasn't we were either sleeping or he was with you, so I don't see how he could be involved in this," he answers, which reassures you, but also pains you. To know he was out training with no knowledge of the schemes taking place behind his back was terrifying.

"I'm sure your prince isn't in on anything," Jeongin adds, giving you a genuine smile. Minho turns to him, giving him one of those downturned smiles as if he's proud. Jeongin doesn't notice it, but you do. "I think right now we need to focus on Chan. He's your brother, after all, and I know you two don't see eye to eye sometimes, but I'm sure he would never intend to put you or your family in harms way."

That was an understatement. Your brother was a good few years older than you, and whilst you got on well for the most part, your brother was always much closer with your father, opting to spend most of his time learning the ways of running a kingdom whilst you were gallivanting with Jeongin. Despite that, you did agree with Jeongin. Surely your elder brother would never plan something behind your back in a malicious way.

"I don't know," you groan, leaning forward to rub your temples. "This is all pretty insane."

"It's a lot to wrap your heads around," Minho agrees, nodding with his brow furrowed. "First things first, I think you guys need to do some digging. Go back to your palace, find any information you might deem useful. Tomorrow I'm gonna meet with Felix, whilst I'm here, and talk to him. If anyone knows about messages between your brother and Hyunjin's father, it will be him. He oversees all communication between the courts."

"He does?" You ask, shocked that you didn't already know that. You realise now that there was a lot about your court that you had absolutely no idea about.

Minho nods. "Felix knew Chan from school, apparently, so he got him the job."

Jeongin seems to remember this. "I did see them together often," he relays, clearly deep in thought. "I knew I recognised him from something important."

"Yeah, well, I'll see what he knows," Minho confirms, and you nod your head at him in thanks. "He might have picked up on something suspicious. And, I can ask him to make sure he looks out for anything else."

"That would be a great help," you say genuinely. "So while you meet with Felix, Jeongin and I will head back to the palace and snoop around for anything we think might help. Then, we can reconvene afterwards and discuss what we find and try and make a plan from that?"

"That sounds good to me," Jeongin says, giving you a half smile. "Minho?"

"Yeah, fine by me, too," he agrees, and you all look at each other for a second in understanding. There's a moment of peaceful quiet, as you ponder over your plan and the only noise is the birds, until there's a sharp knock on the front door.

Jeongin turns to you with wide eyes, and you're thankful you closed all the curtains. If anyone saw the three of you here...you dread to think what would happen. As you're about to grab the small pocket knife you keep with you at all times to answer the door, Minho saunters up to it without a second thought.

You're first instinct is that he's double crossed you, and somehow you're about to be sent to your deaths. Jeongin seems to be thinking along the same lines, moving forward instantly, until Minho unlocks the door and someone's on the other side.

Hyunjin.

"What the actual fuck?" Jeongin almost shouts, doing a double take as Minho turns and gives him a 'shh!' whilst Hyunjin quickly walks into the house, dumping a back on the ground as he breaths heavily. You make eye contact then, him giving you a half grin, you with your jaw hanging open, dumbfound.

Nobody moves for a good minute, until Jeongin punches Minho lightly on the arm. "You knew he was coming?"

"First of all, ow," Minho responds, rubbing his arm. You and Hyunjin continue to stare at each other as though the other two aren't there, your open jaw becoming a smile. "Second of all, yes."

"How did you? What did you?" Jeongin says, looking between the two men and failing to finish any of his sentences, before turning his gaze to you. "Did you know he was coming?"

You screw your face up. "Do I look as though I knew?"

"It's nice to formally meet you," Hyunjin says to Jeongin, sticking his hand out. Jeongin shakes it cautiously, his face stoic. "I'm Hyunjin."

"He knows who you are you idiot," you say, rolling your eyes and walking over to greet him. He pulls you into a hug absentmindedly, his hand going straight to your hair to hold you in place. You stay like that for a second, until Minho clears his throat and ruins the moment.

"If you two are done canoodling?" He says, crossing his arms over his chest as you pull away from Hyunjin, feeling your cheeks redden.

"How the hell are you here?" Jeongin says to Hyunjin, taking the words from your tongue.

"You should be asking Minho that," he says, finally catching his breath and resting on the arm of the sofa. "I don't even know why I'm here. I take it there's no family emergency?"

"There actually kind of is a family emergency," Minho says with a knowing smirk. "We've got a lot to catch you up on."

"That's for certain," Hyunjin says with a raised eyebrow. His black hair is short, and you reckon he had to cut it for his training. He has a bruise forming near his eye and a split in the middle of his lip, but besides that he looks incredible, as always. "How come you three are in the same room without strangling each other? I though you were still mad at him for punching you?"

He directs the question to Minho, who scoffs. Jeongin butts in before Minho gets a chance to reply.

"If anyone should be mad, it's me! He punched me with a knife!" He groans exasperatedly, rolling his eyes before composing himself. "However, we have put our difference aside us for the greater good. Or the greater evil, whichever."

"How did you get him out of training?" You say to Minho, trying to deter the conversation, and still not really understanding how Hyunjin is sitting in front of you.

"Forged a letter from his father demanding he come to this address in lieu of training, due to a family emergency. I take it my grand escape worked?" He asks Hyunjin, who chuckles and shakes his head.

"It was my grand escape, but it wasn't actually very grand. I showed the general the letter and he believed it without a second glance. Honestly, that man needs fired - he's off with his consort more than he's conducting army training, and he doesn't seem to care much for the whereabouts of his cadets," Hyunjin explains with a shrug. Minho grins, happy his plan worked. "You're lucky, cause if I get found out it's your ass."

You smile inwardly at Hyunjin using a phrase he picked up from you. Before you met him, he talked impossibly proper, so hearing him say thinks like, 'your ass' makes you smirk.

"But it did work though? You're excused until after the ball?" Minho asks, and Hyunjin nods.

"Unless I get caught out, yeah. And I can always say that I had the letter sent to get myself out of army duties, so don't actually worry," he says to Minho, as if Minho was every actually worried. It honestly warmed your heart how much he cared. "But will one of you please explain what's actually going on?"

Jeongin, Minho and you share an uneasy look, and you decide to take the brunt and explain the situation.

"Your dad wants to overthrow my dad. Or, he did until my brother went to see him the other day. Basically, there's a load of shady shit going on and we think Chan is involved but we don't really know anything," you explain as simply as possible. Hyunjin blinks a couple times, turning to Minho for confirmation.

"That pretty much sums it up," Minho says with a shrug. "Did you know about any of it?"

"None," Hyunjin replies, and you can tell he's more than deflated from having no clue about the ongoings of his court, just as you were. "I knew that my dad was getting impatient about how many problems there were in our court, like the overpopulation - but I had no idea he was planning on doing something."

"There's more to it," Jeongin reminds you, and Hyunjin turns to face him. You realise he's going to tell him the part you didn't really want to mention. "Your dad wanted an alliance with hers, and proposed you two get married to solidify it."

Hyunjin blinks again, looking at you with soft eyes. You smile bashfully, trying to avoid his eyes. "Yep."

"I take it your dad didn't agree?" He asks, and you nod.

"Minho knows more about it than I do," you say, looking towards Minho who sighs as he takes a seat on the sofa.

"It seems as though her father denied the grand wedding request and your father didn't appreciate that. However, I suspect her brother has had some sort of involvement to stop your father from declaring war," Minho explains nonchalantly, as if this all wasn't the craziest thing ever. Jeongin scoffs with a smirk.

"That pretty much sums it up," he says, joining Minho on the sofa.

"That's...a lot to take in," Hyunjin raises his eyebrows, looking towards you and you nod at him. "So what are we going to do about it?"

You love the way he doesn't question anything before becoming on board with your elaborate plan to go behind both of your Courts backs. You realise then how much you'd missed being able to talk to him face to face rather than through your letters. Seeing him in the flesh almost didn't feel real.

"That's what we're still trying to figure out," you answer. "Jeongin and I are going to our palace tomorrow to try and find anything of use, and Minho's going to talk to Felix. We don't have enough insight in whatever's going on to come up with a proper plan yet."

"If I know my father, and reluctantly I do," Hyunjin says begrudgingly. "He won't have abandoned the idea of war so easily. He's been looking for an excuse to declare war for years, and now that he has one, I'll be damned if there's not a proper reason as to why he doesn't see it through."

"My thoughts exactly," Minho agrees. There's a moment of silence as the four of you look between each other, agreeing without words that something bad was happening.

"I knew something was off the minute my father was so adamant we attend your ball on Saturday," Hyunjin looks towards you, tilting his head in a way that makes the now cropped black pieces of hair fall onto his forehead. "If it wasn't a sacred tradition, my father would stop the balls altogether, yet this time he was forcing even my cousins to go, and they always seem to weasel their way out of them."

Hyunjin's cousins, Seungmin and Jisung, were two of the strangest boys you'd ever met. The brothers were constantly at odds, yet spent all their time together. Although, they did have a habit of pulling the most elaborate pranks at your balls, which always made you and Jeongin appreciative. At the last winter ball, they'd somehow managed to switch the Winter Court King's chair with a faulty one, sending him topping to the ground, without ever being caught. But by the snicker and low key high five you caught them sharing, the perpetrators were obvious.

"Why don't we get a night of rest," Minho suggests, looking at you for confirmation. "We have a lot to do, and we can start trying to come up with a proper plan once we have more information tomorrow?"

"That sounds good to me," Jeongin says as he stretches. "Now that we know Chan's involved, we know more about what we're looking for. Correspondence is kept in storage in the castle cellar, and there's a locked off area for confidential pieces."

"My fathers kind of insistent on correspondence being kept private," you say, not revealing that it's due to the fact he has a million consorts on the go and receives an influx of letters from them daily. "We each have a safe to keep anything we want private, since the staff deep clean our rooms every other day."

Hyunjin nods, clearly deep in thought. "That's your best bet," he agrees. "How trustworthy are your maids?"

You and Jeongin both look to each other, puzzled looks plaguing your faces. "I mean, I'd like to think pretty trustworthy, why?"

"You didn't hear this from me," Minho smirks towards Hyunjin. "But it's interesting how much maids overhear and don't say anything about because of their oath of loyalty. It's quite easy to get information out of them."

It's obvious Minho has used some pretty unsubtle methods of finding out information when Jeongin starts mimicking kissing noises and he only laughs. You roll your eyes, shocked at how well these sworn enemies are seemingly getting along.

"Well, I'm not going to be using your methods on my maids," you grimace. "But...Daliyah might be of help."

Jeongin snickers, shaking his head. "You're not wrong."

When Minho and Hyunjin give each other a look, you decide to explain yourself. "Daliyah and Chan had a bit of a...secret love affair. My father still doesn't know about it, since Chan cut it off before it became anything serious, but poor Dal has been more than unhappy about the whole thing. She spends a lot of time trying to be in his company. If anyone's overheard anything, it's her."

"Well I never," Minho raises his eyebrows. "Chan with a maid consort?"

You roll your eyes. "We can talk to her when we visit the palace tomorrow. Then, we should really start putting together a plan for the ball."

All three men nod in agreement, leaving the four of you in a peaceful silence. Although nothing substantial had been achieved yet, and time was ticking, having Hyunjin here lifted a weight off of your shoulders. His presence alone calmed you.

"I'm going to do some perimeter checks on the area. I'll take first watch, too," Minho says, stealth mode switched back on. Jeongin rolls his eyes.

"You don't need to take a watch. Nobody knows this place exists. I'll come with you on your checks since I need to make sure the horses will be okay for the night anyway, but don't bother staying up," he mutters to Minho, following him when he ignores the younger boys jeers and leaves mid sentence. Once Jeongin has locked the front door behind them, there's a calmness as you turn to Hyunjin.

"Hi," is all you say sheepishly, unable to quite believe that he was standing in front of you.

"Hi, beautiful," he replies easily, taking a step towards you and engulfing your hands with his own. You lean into his embrace, sighing contentedly as you do so. For a man that just basically escaped the military, he looked and smelled as divine as ever. "I'm sorry about all of this."

You look up at him as he says that. "As long as you're not double crossing me, there's nothing to apologise for. It's not your doing. Plus, if anything, I should be thanking you and Minho. There was no way Jeongin and I could have done anything to stop whatever's happening together if we caught wind of it."

"You doubt yourself," he tuts, smiling down at you. "Shall we go upstairs? My back is killing me. I had to jump over a dozen walls to get here, you know."

"My hero," you fake swoon, leading him up the stairs and into your allocated bedroom. He shuts the door behind him, shrugging off his thick winter coat and placing it neatly on the dresser beside the door. After lighting the logs on the fireplace to provide some warmth for the chilly bedroom, you sit down on the bed, patting the space next to you. "Why don't you tell me all about your time away from me?"

"Well," Hyunjin chuckles, lowering himself onto the bed beside you. "It was torture. The only thing that brought me any joy was reading your letters."

"Really?" You reply, unable to contain your smile as you stare into the eyes of the handsome man beside you. He nods.

"Mhm. I especially enjoyed reading about Jeongin falling off of his horse on one of your outings. I actually laughed out loud," he shakes his head with a smile. "It's a lot to wrap my head around, all of this, but it doesn't shock me in the slightest."

"I understand," you agree, giving him a sad smile. "I feel the same. Let's just forget about all of that while you're here. I take it you won't be staying long?"

He shakes his head, and you feel your shoulders drool subconsciously. "I'm afraid not. I need to return to training before my father finds out I'm gone, which means I'll have to leave as soon as I can tomorrow. But, I'll be back for the ball. You should be used to only seeing me in small doses by now, darling."

His nickname sends a shiver down your spine, but his words cause an ache in your chest. "I miss you terribly regardless."

"As do I," he takes one of your hands in his, beginning to rub small circles in the palm of your hand. "Is it too crazy to believe that one day, our courts will be civil and we can be together in peace?"

"Yes," you can't help but say, which thankfully makes him chuckle. "But I have hope."

"All I want is you," Hyunjin says sincerely, looking between your eyes. The stillness of the air and the white shining light from the moon adds a heaviness to the moment, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "Always. You've consumed my every thought."

You can't find the words to reply, instead letting him move closer towards you and instinctively brush some stray hairs from your face.

"I wish things could be different for us," he sighs, looking between your eyes. You can't help but play with the short dark strands at the nape of his neck, missing the long locks you were used to.

"Me too, Hyunjin," you respond, closing your eyes momentarily and breathing the moment in. When you feel Hyunjin's soft, plush lips push against yours your response is instantaneous, kissing him back with all the want and desire you'd kept captive while he was away.

It takes no time at all for him to deepen the kiss, and you can't help but think about how this was the first time you were kissing him within the safety of four walls and not outside in the warm summer air. He gently pushes you so your back is leaning against the plush bed, embracing it as he moves his body so that it's caging yours.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, pulling away momentarily. You shake your head, smiling up at the handsome boy in your vision.

"I don't want you to ever stop," you say, because truthfully you would never be able to get enough of him. It felt as though you were on cloud nine, having him all to yourself without worrying about being caught. The reasons you were in the confinements of Jeongin's home were forgotten as you stared dreamily into Hyunjin's eyes.

His mouth turns into a small smile. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, my love," he cautions, but his efforts are futile when you pull him back down towards you and place your lips against his again. He chuckles into the kiss, knowing you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

You didn't know if you'd ever get the opportunity to be intimate with Hyunjin. The relationship between you and him was secret kisses, hiding in the fields of the border, never wanting to take it too far for fear of prying eyes. Now, however, it felt like the days of hiding were so far in the past.

He undresses you slowly, carefully, as if he doesn't want to rush. You have to remind him that Jeongin and Minho could come back any second, but he doesn't seem to care. When you're both topless, he kisses down your neck and mumbles, "I have you all to myself for tonight. Those idiots won't ruin this for me."

You can't help the laugh that escapes you, his comment turning the somewhat bittersweet moment lighthearted, if only for a second. The tension between you rises quickly, kisses becoming heated, hands unable to stay still. Hyunjin touches every part of you before finally giving in, taking off every piece of clothing both of you had on and discarding them beside the bed.

He doesn't waste a second, kissing down your body until he's right where you need him most, looking up at you as he gently kisses your inner thighs before attaching himself at your core, making you feel a way you've never felt with any other partner you've been with before. He's so gentle, yet eager, and your breathes become short when he starts to use his fingers and tongue at the same time.

There's no feelings of self consciousness with him, not when he looks at you as though you hand painted every star in the sky. The way he comes back up to your face when you squeeze his hand, staring at you under him as though he can't believe he's looking at you. The way he caresses your cheek with his thumb when he finally pushes into you, his other hand interlinked with your own. You wince for a moment, adjusting to his size.

"I've got you," he whispers, forehead pressed against yours, his voice thick. He's suppressing himself for your sake, his eyes squeezing closed as he holds back a groan. "Don't worry, you're okay."

He starts slow, making sure you're comfortable, nodding when he starts increasing his pace and looks into your eyes for confirmation. When the pain starts turning to pleasure, you allow yourself to let go, forget about every ounce of stress plaguing your mind to focus on Hyunjin and this moment.

He kisses you deeply as he pulls himself in and out of you; your collarbone, your neck, your mouth. Your hands find his back, fingers digging deeply into the smooth flesh, pulling him as close as humanly possible. You have no idea if Minho and Jeongin have come inside yet, but right now you couldn't care less. He breathes deeply into your ear, shuddering when you pull at his hair and pushing into you so fast your gasping.

You could stay in this moment forever, attached mentally and physically to the man of your dreams, your prince. The closeness of having him inside you for the first time is a feeling you never wished to forget.

He changes his rhythm, placing one hand against whilst keeping his other firmly enclasped with yours. His combat stamina is no match for how able he is to keep himself together, keeping himself as quiet as possible. You wished for the day you could let loose, do whatever you wished in your own bed in your own home, together. To hear him groan properly without holding it in.

You take what you can get of each other, trying to keep composed but ultimately failing. Your whines slip, especially when he brings his face close to yours. All you want is for him to hear how good he makes you feel. Maybe it was because he was the first person you'd been intimate with you you'd ever loved, or maybe it was because you were so infatuated with him, but you were losing yourself to him.

Never had you been so organically yourself during intimacy. You'd only ever had sex with a couple of men, but you could never call this 'having sex'. Hyunjin was making love to you as passionately as someone had ever before.

It's not long until Hyunjin's quick and powerful thrusts send you over the edge, your toes curling and your heart racing. He doesn't just stop at once either, letting you recover and bringing back the immensely pleasurable feeling again. He brings you to your high multiple times, watching you closely and whispering sweet nothings in your ear before finally letting go himself.

What must have been an hour later, his head is resting against the headboard as you're on top of him, his firm hands gripping your sides and guiding you slowly. That's when you hear the front door open and the unmistakable sound of your supposed arch nemesis best friends laughing together downstairs.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes in annoyance, thrusting up into you, hitting the best spot a couple of times before slowing down and pulling himself out of you with laboured breaths. You're exhausted, physically and mentally, but it couldn't matter less with Hyunjin by your side. He pulls the sheets around you as you latch yourself onto him, trying to get your breathing under control as the sound of impending footsteps make their way upstairs.

"That was incredible," Hyunjin whispers softly, tracing his pointer finger over your facial features delicately. He's still staring at you with a smile when Jeongin and Minho call 'goodnight' from their rooms. You both reply, thankful that neither of them decided to come inside the room.

"I don't want you to leave again," you whisper back, your stomach twisting into knots at the thought. He shakes his head, tracing your lips.

"Don't think about that right now, hm? You're here with me now. I promise you, my darling, I will figure something out," he stresses, and you know he's being sincere. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"I love you," he says, and although it's not the first time he's said those words out loud to you, they hold so much more meaning now. "I am so hopelessly in love with you it kills me inside knowing that life has made it almost impossible for us to be together. But if I do one thing, it will be to do everything in my power to be with you for the rest of my life."

Tears well at your eyes with his every words, but you hold them back for his sake, knowing that it will make him leaving tomorrow so much worse for the both of you if you get upset in front of him. Instead of crying, you composed yourself, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Hwang Hyunjin. No matter what," you say honestly, watching as his features soften and he smiles down at you. "It's you and me forever, yeah?"

"Of course, my princess," he agrees, childishly interlinking your fingers. You giggle sleepily at the action and cosying yourself up to him. "You and me forever."

I am so ridiculously sorry for the wait!!! I was gonna make the whole series three parts but I just keep writing too much so it’s now gonna be four hahaha, I hope you enjoy this part !!!

#hyunjin x reader #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #felix lee #skz #han jisung #stray kids fanfics #stray kids fic #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff

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beneathstarryskies · 1 year ago

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Day 4: Praise Kink - Raditz

Warnings: lots of praise, handjob, penetration (p+v), fem!reader

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan, @loki-love

Raditz is lounging in the bathtub. His long hair spills over the back of the tub, and his leg is propped up on the side as an example of how ill-fitting he was but still determined to enjoy the simple pleasure of a bath after a long day of training. You’re kneeling by the tub while washing him and being careful to avoid agitating the bruises he got during the rough sparring session with Goku and Vegeta. He’s a little agitated right now. His jaw is set tight in frustration.

“They’ve come so far,” he growls. “I can’t believe I’ve fallen so far behind! I can’t help that I was dead!”

“You’ll catch up, love,” you say with a sweet smile.

“Hmph,” he grunts. “Easy for you to say. You’re not out there being made a fool of.”

“You’re not a fool,” you kiss his cheek. “Remember, when you first came to earth, Goku had to sacrifice himself just to defeat you. You’re strong. You’ll work hard, and catch up.”

“You think I’m strong?” Raditz asks, and lays his head so he can look at you with a smug grin. You know now what he wants, and you’re happy to give it to him.

“Look at you! Of course I think you’re so big and strong,” you drag your hands across his broad chest then rake your nails down the ridges of his muscular abdomen. “Just look at all these big muscles.”

He purrs excitedly and you can see the pink tip of his cock start to poke through the bubbles of his bath.

“I bet you like how big I am,” he offers, urging you to continue.

“I love it. Especially when you carry me in your big strong arms,” you coo softly and kiss his cheek. Then you whisper in his ear, “And when you hold me down to fuck me, and I can’t even try to get away.”

He purrs as his eyes widen.

“Come on, let’s get you out of the bath.”

You grab a big, fluffy towel and begin drying him off. A sweet smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you look up at him.

“You’re so handsome,” you tell him and stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him. His tail flicks happily when you try to pull away, it wraps around your waist to pull you closer. His erection presses against your tummy. “And you’re so responsive,” you say with a slight teasing lilt to your voice.

“But you like that?” he asks, hopeful to receive even more praise.

“Of course I do,” you kiss him again and again. “It’s so fun to get you riled up.”

His tail stays wrapped around your waist so his hands are free to touch you. And touch you he does, all over. He squeezes your hips and your ass as he leans in to kiss you passionately.

“Mm, you’re such a good kisser too,” you say against his lips. “And your big hands always feel so good on my body.”

He finally allows you to finish drying him off, and you sit him down so you can brush his hair. As you work the brush through his long hair, you continue showering him in praise. You tell him how handsome he is and how much you love taking care of him this way. The entire time his tail flicks excitedly, and he palms his cock. When you say something he likes in particular, he lets out a soft purr. Once you set the brush aside, he pulls you onto his lap.

“I want to show you how much I appreciate your praise,” he growls as he pushes his hand down your pants to tease you.

“Only if you promise to be a good boy,” you giggle.

“I think we both know I’ll be bad,” he nips at your neck.

“You’re lucky that you’re so good at being bad.”

#kinktober2023🎃#raditz x reader #dbz fics

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plush-rabbit · 2 years ago

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Stiff Hands

Request: Idk if youve seen Twilight, more specifically the tent scene in Eclipse. So ill explain the scene,

Bella,Edward,Jacob are all ontop of a snowy,cold ass mountain in a tent. Bella being human is freezing her ass off, cant cuddle her bf Eds bc hes cold af, so she has to cuddle up to Jacob, whos very warm and isnt cold at all. Eddie boy is not happy and they bicker while Bella dozes off happy she isnt going to die from the cold.

Now , imagine that but with Shigaraki, Dabi and reader & Dabi havin a thing for reader too but reader is with Shigaraki

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I was super excited to do this one because despite all the flaws with Twilight, damn is it addictive

The cold nips between the broken cracks of the long abandoned home, graffiti strewn in paint against the walls, cracks and splintered furniture pushed against the entryways. What once must have been a quaint home, is nothing more than a squatter’s den, trash thrown around, cigarette butts and broken glass swept against the wall because you’d be damned if you slept on glass.

At the moment, it’s the best that you and the other two could have found on such short notice for a vicious cold front that would sweep the area. You lay the blanket over the floor, pulling on the corners of the blanket, trying to cover as much space as the three of you would need.

“There’s a bed, ya know.” Dabi kicks at the side of your foot and you stick your tongue out at him.

“I found needles and we’re in the middle of the woods-” you look up at him, clasping your hands together- “I’m not risking whatever disease or fluid is on that bed.” Standing, you bring your clasped hands to the front of your mouth, blowing hot air against them. “I’ll risk the floor. So, do you mind starting a fire?”

You watch as he walks just behind you, his hands hovering over the broken end table, and blue ignites the table, a roar of fire that consumes the legs and holds steady. You murmur a thank you, letting your hands thaw, feeling the warmth touch at the tip of your nose, and spread towards your cheeks and down your neck and over the shells of your ears.

“We’ll have to put the fire out when we go to bed,” Tomura says walking back into the old living room, carrying broken pieces of furniture and tossing them near the wall. “I’d bet his fire would cremate you before it could even reach your lungs.”

“Don’t be such a downer, Tomura,” you chastise, but still, you move your hands a bit closer to you.

“Yeah, Tomura,” Dabi says in the same sickly sweet tone that you used, “don’t be such a downer.”

“No teasing,” you say hurriedly, not wanting an argument against your partner and a man with a very effective quirk. “I don’t think I’ll have the brainpower to handle the both of you.”

Dabi shuts his mouth, and looks away. Tomura frowns and walks towards you; his partially gloved hands scratch against your cheeks. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck here,” he apologizes. “I would’ve sent you with Compress if I had known how cold it would have gotten.”

“Please, then you’d be here alone with Dabi and the both of you would’ve done something mean to each other, or you’d be stuck with Twice who, sweet as he is, would have instigated a fight if he could.” Your hands follow suit, cupping his cheeks and smiling softly. “I’m glad that I’m here with you.”

“If you’re going to fuck, you’re using the bed,” Dabi interrupts, effectively putting the conversation to a close.

“Dabi, I would rather die than let any part of me touch that bed.” You place the pillows against the edge of the blanket, laying down and spreading the other blankets over you, resting and curling into a fetal position, feeling exhaustion weigh heavy over your bones. You close your eyes, clutching the blankets into fistfuls. “Make sure one of you puts out the fire before falling asleep.”

“You’re not even going to help?” You hear Dabi ask.

“Too tired and too cold,” you reply with your eyes closed.

“Must be nice fucking the boss, huh?” You lift your head to give him a pointed look. “Just saying.” He rolls his eyes at the look, kicking a piece of broken furniture away from the fire. “It’d be nice to get special treatment.”

“Call me pretty and I’ll convince Tomura to give you bigger rations.” You give him a crooked smiling, only breaking when the wind howls outside.

“That’s all it takes?” Dabi asks, walking over to you, and standing on what would be his side.

“What can I say,” you retort, “I’m easy.”

He crouches to a bend, his smile easy and soft, and in a voice that holds zero sarcasm, he tells you in a raspy voice, “I think you’re very pretty.”

The lack of playfulness has heat burn from your chest, upwards, and you turn, your smile too wide and words too rushed. “Tomura, Dabi needs bigger rations next time.” You give a shaky laugh that is easily disguised by the shivering.

“I didn’t agree to that,” your partner tells you, his hands over the fire, ending each finger down, and regaining a bit of warmth back.

You turn back to Dabi, giving him an apologetic smile. “Guess I got a free compliment from you, huh.”

“If you wanted me to call you pretty, all you had to do was ask nicely.” He stands up and walks over to the fire. You follow him, watching his back, eyes focused on a patch of burnt skin, and you swallow dryly, turning around and getting back into a comfortable position that doesn’t quite feel the same that it once did moments before.

The cold burrows its way into your bones, you can feel it in your body, embedded into you, and it wakes you from your slumber. Without Dabi beside you, you’re sure that you would have frozen, have your blood become solid in you. The cold chills you from the inside of your body and out. Nails scrape down from the blanket to Dabi, careful to not touch any skin because you can feel just how cold your hands are, stiff and frozen. You clutch onto him, and he grunts, moving closer to you. Behind you, your partner pushes himself against your back, and you can feel how cold he is, even though he doesn’t shiver, the tip of his nose has goosebumps breaking along your skin.

“Are you okay, Tomura?” You ask, eyes shut tight and teeth chattering.

“Better than you are,” he replies. “You’re freezing.” His breath is warm along the back of your neck. “This cold isn’t that harsh for me.”

“Lucky you,” you whine, letting out a shaky breath that you shiver violently.

“Can we all shut up,” Dabi breathes out and it’s warm, and you’re desperate. You twist your hands into his shirt, and bury yourself under his chin. It's too intimate, but when his body heat starts to spread to you, and the shivering isn't as violent, you can't bring yourself to care.

“I think we should have risked the forest fire.” You can’t even attempt a laugh for your own quip, your smile cracks along your lips and your skin feels dry at the corners of your mouth. You remind yourself to make sure that Tomura at least moisturizes once a day.

"Watch your hands," he seethes out.

You feel the warmth on your waist, hands nestled under the layers of clothes that you wear, slide across your stomach and peel themselves away from you, the warmth that’s left behind a ghost, a reminder of the bitter cold that has seeped into your bones and chaps your lips.

“‘M cold,” your mumble, close to tears, pulling him closer to you. His hands are rough and scratch at your skin when they return to hold your waist. You release a shaky breath against his neck, letting out a low whine when his nails scratch against the soft swell of your stomach.

“They’re cold,” Dabi counters, fingertips stretching to your spine, fire igniting against you, making your stomach tighten and twist. “Say the word, and they can freeze to death.” His voice is low, and he smooths his hand over your back, feeling your plush skin cushion under his hands. “Your call, boss,” he hisses out.

It’s silent, and you can feel the tension in the air, but at the moment, you can’t think about anything else but the cold. “No fighting,” you mumble, already close to tears. “Tomura,” you call to him, your voice a high whine. Your hands search for his, and when he intertwines his hands with yours, you pull them to you, his second knuckle ghosting over your lips where you give him a gentle kiss. “You okay?” You ask, intaking a sharp breath when Dabi slides his hands up your back, reaching between your shoulder blades. “Fuck, Dabi,” you let out a breathless laugh, “give me a warning before, will ya?”

“Still cold?” He mutters beside you, taking your attention away from your partner.

“Obviously,” the other answers for you, pressing his lips against the back of your neck. He mumbles an apology when you flinch away.

“My hands feel stiff,” you answer, trying to tighten your hands around your partner but you’re only able to give him a soft squeeze. “Feels like they’re gonna fall off.” Your breath trembles as you exhale, and you feel the cold hold onto your chest.

Heat ghosts across your body, down your back, across your waist, wrapped around your elbows and pulled down to your wrists until it envelops itself around your hands and you feel yourself begin to thaw. It replaces what was once there, and there's a complaint that falls onto deaf ears when your hands are lifted and breathed into life again. For the first moment in the night, you believe that you are going to make it through the night without the loss of anything dear to you.

“Does that help?” Dabi asks in a quiet voice, and you nod, tears springing in the corners of your eyes. You can tighten the grip of your hands, and you give him a tight squeeze- as much as you could manage at least.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, using every bit of energy to give your gratitude.

“Anytime,” he says after a pause.

You’re finally asleep, face turned to him, and hands still holding onto his. Whenever the wind whistles, you let out a shiver, body inching closer to his, seeking him out and as you do so, so does Tomura. His arms are wrapped around you, holding on tightly. The both of you are asleep in your partner’s sleep, and with you in his arms, Dabi can picture for a second that it’s just the two of you- it’s Touya and you. It’s Dabi and you. It's you and him. There’s no else that you would hold so close, so dearly, so sweetly. You cling to him because you want to, and he can play pretend for a moment that this is the routine, that you love him so, and that you want him. He can play pretend that it was him who swept you off your feet and made you fall first.

He has many regrets in his life. His existence, his actions, his words. Himself. He regrets not taking your offer for a team-up. You went with Shigaraki instead. You bonded with him, and when you both returned from the short mission, you seemed closer. You’d sneak into his bedroom and his to yours, and he’d press his ear against the door, not caring that his shadow would peek under the doorframe. All he cared for was listening to you, and he heard you laugh, he heard the two of you kiss, the hushed voices and in the morning he would watch as you two sat together, talking as if you hadn’t spoken throughout the night.

His chest would tighten, and Dabi still doesn’t know why he acted so cold; why he refused to go on a mission with you. If he had, maybe he could have replaced Shigaraki in your life. You would hold him, you would kiss him sweetly as if no one was watching. You’d massage his hands and let him rest his head on your chest and sleep. You’d care for him.

Your forehead is warm against his lips, and he stays there for a moment too long, letting his eyes close for the night. For this night, he can fall asleep with you, and he can think about how nice you smell, and how your skin feels under his fingertips, soft and foreign, and all too tempting to never lift his hands away from yours. He commits the feeling of your hands to his memory.

In the morning, the cold front has moved, a chill still in the air but not enough for you to cling to him like last night.

He steps out, hands tucked into his pockets, his jacket smelling like the hints of your body cream, and he nestles his nose into the scent.

“Hey there, stranger,” you say standing beside him. He gives you hum, looking out into the forest, trying to focus on anything but you. “Well, I just wanted to say thank you for last night.” He glances towards you and you’re already looking at him. “If you ever need anything, just ask.” You smile, and you turn to go back inside, you hesitate, your smile faltering. You turn to him, your hand holding onto his bicep and squeezing it as you reach up to peck at his cheek. When you pull away, your smile has returned. “Thanks again, Dabi.”

It’s stupid. It’s a peck. And yet, it gives him hope that maybe you like him the way that he likes you.

“How are your hands?” He blurts out, not wanting you to leave him.

You smile and lift your hands, making a grabbing motion in the air to show off how relaxed your fingers are once again. “Better,” you say with a smile. “Thanks again Dabi. If you ever need anything let me know, okay?” You lift your hand and wave in goodbye, and you turn the corner without looking back at him.

He follows you without thinking, slinking around the corners of the house until he finds you in a room with sunlight peeking through a broken ceiling. You stand with your partner in the room, and Dabi listens.

Dabi stands by the wall, his head turned and ears trying to strain to hear your partner talk. “I uh-” Shigaraki clears his throat- “I don’t like being apart from you.” You hum and Dabi can picture the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on your face. “I was thinking, when we get the chance-'' he curses and Dabi takes a peek and sees you cupping Shigaraki’s face, your thumb rubbing arches over his cheek.

“Take your time,” you coo, your attention solely on him. Dabi doubts either of you have noticed him by now. “I’m still here.”

His heart beats in his chest, and bile rises to burn his throat. Shigaraki continues, taking a small step closer to you. “I want you to be here forever.” He sounds serious about it, looking at you, and Dabi’s stomach does flips, intestines twisting upon themselves into a knot, making every part of him want to retch out his insides. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him. Your hand lowers down to cup his neck and Shigaraki covers your hand with his, lifting his pinky upwards. You don’t even flinch when he does so. “I don’t think I want to leave you anytime soon,” you trail off, clearing your throat; he’s never heard you speak so softly. “Are you going to leave me?”

“Never,” he answers quickly.

He wonders how many times he must have told you that, how much you know that he would never leave you, because at his earnest answer, you don’t even look taken aback- you look like you’ve accepted it for the thousandth time. You smile, and it’s wide and stretches upwards and gives you wrinkles at the corner of your eyes. “Okay, then.” You twist your hand under his, careful and practiced in avoiding his whole touch, holding it loosely in yours and you bring the knuckle of his index to your lips. “You and me then.” Shigaraki doesn’t dare look elsewhere. “Till death do us part,” you say with your lips still against his knuckle, “in your half-assed proposal.”

“Shut up.” Dabi can’t even recognize the voice who says that. It’s soft and playful, and it isn’t the calloused voice of a villain. It’s the voice of someone who can look behind them, and know that someone will follow and care.

Somewhere in him, he can feel whatever was left of himself and a will for a normal life, or a cheap masquerade for it, breaks. Dabi’s stomach twists and there’s a void in him that has always been there, that cements in him and has warmth burn down his face and bile burn his throat.. He stares at the wall in front of him, wood and pink stuffing exposed by the elements, and he can hear you laugh in the other room.

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megamindsecretlair · 1 year ago

Text

It Started With a Whisper - Chapter 3

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Some sentences are intentional AAVE. Cursing, mentions of sex and private parts. This is some time after Steve jogs next to Sam. Soft Sam, fluff. Non-inclusive language, mentions of emotionally abusive family, caregiver, burdens, ill family members. Lots of fluff, dash of angst.

Summary: You are the front desk clerk who started a few months ago and you have a major crush on Sam Wilson, the handsome and sweet trauma counselor. Sam made you eat your words as Steve does swing by the VA and you have to hold up your end of the bet.

Word Count: 5,256k

Masterlist

A/N: Yeah...this ended up on the long side. Rare of me, but I hope it flows and that you melt like I did reading it. Writing about him has...made me love him even more? I've never been to DC, so don't shoot me. Don't forget to take breaks and hydrate! Ik the gif isn't from the movie, but this is a really silly Sam. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @multiversefanfics @wanniiieeee @hidden-treasures21 @targaryenvampireslayer @chaos-4baby

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Sam Wilson?”

You looked up from this week’s schedule with a polite smile on your lips. Your eyes shuttered as you took in the man before you. Your smile dropped.

“You’re…”

“Steve Rogers,” the man said. He held out his hand to you. You continued to stare at the man. The videos didn’t do him justice. He was handsome in the classic American kind of way. His hair was short, he had a boyish grin, and clear blue eyes. He wore a dark jacket and white shirt.

And holy hell…the muscles. “Well, fancy seeing Captain America here.” Ariel rolled her chair closer to the front and took Captain America’s hand. She held on a second too long and a faint blush crossed his cheeks.

“Please, just Steve.” He swung his hand to you and Ariel nudged you with her elbow.

“Right. Hi, Mr. Rogers.” You shook his hand and mentally kicked yourself from here to Egypt. You were going to smack Sam when you saw him. He set yo ass up. And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Steve, please. Please,” he said with a chuckle.

“Sam’s in the middle of a meeting. If you’d like, I can tell him you’re here,” you said.

“No, thank you. I’d actually like to catch some of it, if that’s okay?” Steve asked.

You nodded and giggled. Like a teenager. Get a grip. You told him the room that Sam works out of and Steve thanked you. Ariel eyed him up and down and waved to him.

“Thank you. For everything you did for New York,” you managed to eke out. You had no idea what his life was like but from all the dozens of documentaries floating out there, it wasn’t every day that you actually got to meet a real life superhero.

People were still on the fence about superheroes. Some thought they were a government conspiracy. Some thought they were unnecessary. And there was only so much arguing with online trolls you could do. If it weren’t for these superheroes, the world would be bowing to that Loki guy and those freakish aliens.

You thought of your mom and her growing paranoia. It was so bad, she stopped leaving the house. You couldn’t fathom her having to see them every day or being under their control.

“Team effort, wasn’t all me. But thank you,” Steve said. He smiled with that boyish grin and took off down the hall towards Sam’s meeting room.

“Hm, I just want that white boy to pick me up and throw me across the room. I’d say thank you,” Ariel sighed. You laughed and smacked her arm. “Shut up.”

Ariel leveled you with a shit-eating grin. She slid along the desk until she was in your personal space. “Soo, what are you wearing to your date with Sam?”

You groaned and plopped your head on the desk. “I’m so dumb. Why did I agree to that bet?” You kicked your feet under the desk.

“Because you like that man. And you wanted to go. I don’t know why you keep actin’ like you don’t.”

Now it was your turn to level a glare at Ariel. “I would love to go out with Sam. But my family…”

“Your family nothing. What, you’re gonna wait on them hand and foot? At some point, they have to let you grow up.”

You pursed your lips. Ariel had heard every complaint and incident involving your family. So she knew the whole sordid affair just like you knew her feelings on the matter. She thought that you should just move out and to hell with all of them.

But you weren’t built like that. Behind all the gaslighting, the toxicity, and narcissism, there was a kernel of love there. You couldn’t tell your Dad that you couldn’t take him to his appointments. You couldn’t tell your mom that you refused to run errands for her since she can’t go outside anymore. Your siblings were in school. If you didn’t take them, who would?

It was unfair that the burden was all on you. There were times when you went to bed crying your eyes out. Every morning, you got up and squared your back and handled business. For right now, there was no alternative so it was pointless arguing with Ariel when she would only tell you the same thing.

She was your best friend, but she reacted so strongly to anything involving your family. After a while, it was easier to stop bringing them up.

Both of you returned to your work. You idly gossiped about how Sam knew Steve. If he said they went jogging, then he wasn’t such a liar after all. You’d pay good money to see Sam jog near Steve, a whole super soldier.

Hell, you just wanted to see Sam jog, let’s be a little honest. You daydreamed for the next hour or so until the sound of Ariel’s chair rolling caught your attention. You swiveled to face her.

She half stood and half squatted as she looked down the hallway. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“They’re done with the meeting. Sam’s talking to Steve right now,” she whispered, even though Sam’s room was a ways down the hall.

Not one to be left out, you mirrored Ariel’s pose and caught a glimpse of Sam and Steve talking in the hallway. Sam wore a blue and gray plaid shirt, open at the collar, and a white tee underneath. He also wore khaki pants. You had teased him relentlessly about his old man way of dressing. He merely struck a pose and said he knew he looked good.

Your lips curved into a smile at the thought. That boy was goofy as hell. You often caught yourself smiling over something he said or did while you talked during your coffee runs.

As you watched, their conversation seemed more on the serious side. Captain America was right there, but your eyes kept drifting over Sam and the way he filled out the outfit. Damn him. He did look good.

Sam shook Steve’s hand before Steve left with a final wave down the hall. You and Ariel sat down with soft giggles at being caught. Whistling drew your attention back over the counter as Sam floated into view with an annoying grin on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said.

You lasted two seconds before breaking out into a laugh. You stood up and leaned over the counter.

“That was a set up and you led me right to it,” you said.

He shrugged with a sugary sweet smile. “I merely used all of my hard earned battle training to my advantage. Never enter a bet you aren’t sure of winning,” he said.

“Then you’ve clearly never had a wild night in Vegas,” Ariel piped in.

“I’ve had a couple,” Sam said.

“Naw. The stories I could tell about me and–” You glared at Ariel and silently dared her to say another word.

“Oh, wait, wait. You get down like that?” Sam matched your pose and brought his face closer to you. It was the closest you two had ever been and your eyes flicked to his lips before you remembered yourself.

“Not telling. And neither is Ariel,” you said.

Sam groaned and tilted his head. “Just one story?” He gave you an adorable pout and you laughed.

“No! What happens in Vegas…”

He sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun. So what time should I pick you up tonight?” He asked.

“Tonight? That’s not enough notice!” Mild panic rushed through you. You had to pick up your siblings, make sure everyone had dinner, and make sure your mom actually took her meds. Then, you had to find an outfit and get dolled up and…

“Hey, hey, I was kidding,” Sam said. He reached out and patted your hand. You turned your head away and took a few deep breaths. He squeezed your hand in short bursts until you looked at him.

“I’m sorry. It was a dumb joke. When can I take you out?”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one that’s sorry. I…I do better when I have advanced notice for things,” you admitted.

Sam nodded. “I can work with that. Is Friday okay? Or do you need to check your schedule and rearrange your other dates?”

You laughed and tapped his arm. “Shut up. Friday is fine, Sam.” You smiled at him, hoping he’d forget all about your mini freak out. He eyed you as if he didn’t but smiled and nodded.

“Friday it is. Wear something comfortable,” he said.

You squinted at him. “Where are you taking me?” You asked.

“And spoil the surprise? Not a chance. I’m gonna get this right, don’t you worry,” he said with a smirk.

You wanted to challenge him on it. However, a bet was a bet and you always kept your word. Sam hadn’t let you down so far and there was no reason to keep giving him the third degree.

“I’m really looking forward to it,” you said.

Sam raised his eyebrows and glanced at Ariel. “You didn’t tell her to say that to put me out of my misery, did you?”

Ariel threw up her hands. She wasn’t even trying to pretend that she hadn’t been paying attention this entire time. You supposed it was better than having to rehash it all.

“That’s all her. I’m sure Captain America finally convinced her to give you a shot,” she said.

“He did not!” You laughed. Sam laughed with you.

“I mean…have you seen him?” Sam joked, making Ariel and you laugh.

You slapped his arm again. “You have serious issues. I hope you know that,” you told him.

“Nope, I just got a date with the most gorgeous woman in all of DC. Nothin’ can bring me down right now,” he said. He rapped his knuckles against the counter and walked backwards. He smirked and bowed his head before turning around and heading back to his meeting room.

You stood there, frozen, your mouth slightly agape. That…

“Girl, you need to get under that man and lock it down,” Ariel said.

Her voice saved you from having to think about what he just said. You knew you were gorgeous. But to hear him say it with his deep voice just turned you into a puddle.

You sat down in your seat. His words replayed over and over in your head. You had a date with Sam Wilson. Who had that on their bingo card, show of hands?

***

Friday night arrived and you were a ball of nerves. You wore a navy babydoll tee, leggings, and sandals. It was appropriate for a date and still sexy. The babydoll tee had a low neckline, giving a little peek at your boobs. You didn’t know if you’d sleep with Sam tonight, but the night was young.

You paced in the living room and wrung your hands. Your siblings were squared away, eating their dinner to rising protests about how they weren’t babies. Your dad was left snoozing in front of the TV and his legs up on the recliner. And your mom…paced with you and asked you a million questions about Sam.

“Are you sure he isn’t an alien?” She asked.

“As much as I can be. I’m not a doctor,” you said.

“Where did you meet him?”

“At work, mom.” You tried to keep the annoyance out of your voice. She had a serious condition that everyone was doing their damndest to accommodate. At the same time, you wished someone would accommodate you for once. You hadn’t been out on a date in…you didn’t want to think about how long.

On the off chance that you recognized someone was trying to ask you out, you made excuse after excuse. You didn’t want the extra drama. You didn’t want to…well, be in this exact situation with your mom breathing down your neck and making your own anxiety worse.

All day, your stomach had been in painful knots. You’d talked yourself out of going a million times. But yesterday, on your coffee run with Sam, he asked for your number. You gave it and he had been just as sweet over text as he was in person. You worried that you’d run out of things to talk about. That was impossible with Sam. He made sitting in bumper to bumper traffic sound interesting.

Blessedly, the doorbell rang. Your mom squealed and headed for the dining room with your siblings. They knew the drill. They started to engage her in conversation until she stopped focusing on you and answered their questions. They were little shits, but they were yours.

You went to the front door and took a deep breath. You opened it to find Sam standing there wearing a dark gray Henley, a mocha leather jacket, dark jeans, and sneakers. He looked scrumptious. With a fresh haircut and his goatee trimmed.

He looked you up and down with equal scrutiny and he smiled. “You look amazing,” he said.

“Not so bad yourself. I see you trying to step it up,” you said.

Per his usual, he struck a pose and chuckled. “Had to show out a little bit. As much as I definitely want you to stay perfect, you’re gonna need a jacket. A real one. Nothin’ like a sweater or those half-sweaters ya’ll be wearing,” he said.

You laughed and shook your head. On the wall by the door, there was a hook with jackets and sweaters that you wore all the time. You grabbed a heavy black hoodie that still went with your outfit.

“Is that going to work for this mystery date?” You asked.

He reached out and felt it. “It’ll do. Ready?” He asked.

You nodded and locked up behind you. Before long, you were in his car and heading…somewhere. He refused to tell you where. You grew up here so you tried to guess with each stop and turn that he made.

“Is it a rooftop bar?” You asked, thinking of the various hotels that had attractions inside.

He chuckled. “No, stop guessing,” he said. You watched him as he drove. It was so…sexy. One of those things that shouldn’t be. Most adults drove. You drove. There was something incredibly hot about watching a man drive one-handed, his other hand on his thigh, and his eyes trained on the idiots in traffic.

Sam made it look powerful and engaging. “I got something on my face?” He asked.

You laughed to cover up your embarrassment at being caught staring. “Yeah, it’s sort of around your mouth,” you said.

Sam patted his face and looked in the rearview mirror. He came to a stop at a red light and checked again. “I don’t see anything,” he said. He looked to you for help and you rolled your lips inwards to keep from laughing.

“Oh…sorry. It’s just your mustache,” you said.

Sam’s face dropped for a split second and then he laughed. “Oh, I see we got jokes,” he said.

On green, he continued forward and you laughed. “You kinda walked into it,” you said.

Sam nodded and poked your leg. “We’ll see who’s laughing more later on tonight,” he said. You poked him in the arm. It was like poking a bag full of quarters. He was deceptively buff.

You joked more as Sam pulled into a parking garage in Georgetown. “The Waterfront?” You asked with an excited squeal. He chuckled at your enthusiasm. “Surprise!”

You laughed as he pulled in and found a parking spot. You both got out and he offered his arm. You shook your head as you placed your hand around it. He guided you to a restaurant you’d never been to before.

“I didn’t know this was here,” you said.

He shrugged. “I know some things. Better stick with me,” he said. He smiled at you and there it was again. That sense of familiarity. As if you could imagine this over and over and never get sick of it. You pulled your gaze away from his. This was something breezy and casual. Unfortunately, that was all you could offer.

The thought of your family dimmed your smile. As wonderful as Sam was, there was no way in hell you were asking him to deal with them. They were your cross to bear. He’d find someone else, someone with less baggage to love on him and hold him.

Acid boiled in your gut at the thought of Sam taking someone else out to dinner. At the thought of their hands on him. It stole your breath, robbed you of any clear thought.

“Hey, where’d you go? You okay?” Sam asked. He nudged you and moved to get out of line. You stopped him. He planned a beautiful evening and you wanted to see it. You wanted to see it with him.

“I’m fine. Promise. Where’d you hear about this place?” You smiled at him but he only frowned.

“If you’re not feeling well, I can take you home. There’s no pressure here,” he said.

You sighed. Damn the man. “Sam, if you don’t buy me dinner, I’ll tell Ariel you were very rude on our date,” you said.

The fake betrayal on his face made you laugh. “You would sic Ariel on me?”

You nodded. “Sure would. In a heartbeat,” you said.

Sam gave you a fake hurt look and approached the host. He had called ahead and made a reservation. The host was a short, spunky dude with greased hair and a practiced fake smile. He waved for a waiter to come by and show you to your seat.

The restaurant was tasteful and warm. It had intimate lighting but it wasn’t so low that you couldn’t see the other person right next to you. The atmosphere was inviting. The waiter led the both of you out onto the patio area with a perfect view of the sunset over the harbor.

“Sam, this is gorgeous!” You furiously whispered to him as he held your seat out. Once you sat down, he took his own seat. The waiter handed you both menus and asked if you wanted anything to drink. Sam took a light beer, his only one as a promise, and you got a glass of wine.

“I wanted tonight to be special. Don’t expect this all the time. This is just to sucker you in,” he said.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Shut up. This is really wild. Did you really plan this?”

“Okay, maybe a little help from my sister. I can’t take all the credit. Can’t let me have one, can you?” He teased.

“Not a one,” you said and laughed.

You talked all throughout the night. Conversation with Sam was so easy. You asked him about growing up in Louisiana and what’s the biggest critter he’d ever seen. You asked him about his parents running the fishing business together and why he joined the military.

He asked you about your family and you told him most of the good stuff. You told him about the shenanigans they got into and what your dad did for a living. As for your mom, well, she primarily worked from home. It was a tiny, white lie that you felt horrible about. Sam was always so honest. But it was too much to dump on someone.

The sun lazily dipped below the horizon beside you. You knew now why he insisted on a jacket. The breeze from the harbor was bitter but enjoyable. He stopped after one beer like he promised. You stopped after two glasses. You didn’t want to get sloppy wine-drunk.

That’d be embarrassing. If he was going to see you wasted, it might as well be on Tequila when you’d really let loose. You wondered what he’d be like drunk. If he ever got drunk.

“I’ve been drunk, I’m not a saint,” he said with a chuckle, as your dinner drew to a close. The food was criminally delicious. Sam told you about an ice cream shop that stayed open late if you were open to dessert later.

You didn’t want the night to end either. So while you waited for the check, Sam sipped on water. “Trust me, we got pretty wild overseas on deployment. There’s nothing to do but fight and try to forget,” he said.

“You saw his mouth turn down at the corners. Sore subject. So you pivoted. “Wild, huh? Like stealing humvees and doing takeovers?”

He laughed so loud that the people around you gave you disapproving looks. Sam apologized and waved to everyone. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!”

“Me!” You waved him off. “I’m not the one who tried to make me snort while I was drinking,” you said.

He raised his hands in surrender and smirked. “I can’t help it if I’m hilarious,” he said.

“As long as your ego is well in hand,” you said.

He shrugged. Damn the man. “To your earlier point, no, we didn’t do takeovers. But we got into stuff. Pranks, teasing, we would play ball with the local kids. It was fun sometimes,” he said.

“Anything to pass the time over there. I know nothing about it, so I can’t speak on it,” you said.

“It’s alright. It was like a fucked up version of summer camp. Except summer never ends so it’s always hot as hell and you’re just trying to survive the day,” he said. “But enough about that. I have to hear about these wild and unchaperoned Vegas trips you took with Ariel.”

You covered your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. The waiter came by, saving you from having to talk. Your shoulders shook with quiet laughter and Sam took the check. He tilted it towards you.

“Not gonna try and reach for the bill?” He asked with a smirk.

“Okay, smartass,” you said. He chuckled and took his card out of his wallet. He signed it and handed it to the waiter. “So…Vegas?”

“You couldn’t pay me to get that information,” you said.

“It must’ve been something freaky,” he said.

You tossed your napkin at him and he caught it with a laugh. The waiter came back and wished you a good night. Sam led you out of the restaurant. “You’re gonna have to roll me out of the car,” you said. You rubbed your belly and Sam laughed.

“I’m stuffed too. Let’s walk it off,” he said. He held his hand out for yours. You took it with a grimace. “You’re not gonna make me into a jogging partner or anything right? I hate running,” you said.

“I promise to keep my jogging to myself,” he said and chuckled. Together, you walked up and down the boardwalk next to the harbor. Lights from the Waterfront stretched out over the water and people milled around you. Conversation flowed well. You learned so much about his childhood and his sister. He lamented the fact that he didn’t get home as often as he wanted to. Counseling wasn’t completely demanding but he also didn’t want to pass it off to someone else.

“I formed a good group of people. I want them to know I’m there,” he said.

“People love you, Sam. They love attending your meetings. But you know that it’s okay to take breaks and vacations right?”

“I know. I left Louisiana and just haven’t looked back. I love it there, but there’s so much world to see, you know? Food to try. Pretty girls to flirt with,” he said.

You rolled your eyes to keep from grinning so hard. “And you’re not even shameless about it,” you said.

“How can I be?” He gave you a pointed look. He winked and opened the door to the ice cream shop. You both got different flavors and took a tiny piece from each other’s cup. You walked back outside. The boardwalk was starting to wind down.

You walked and ate. You were proud that you hadn’t spilled anything on you. Sam was still a ball of energy, talking and telling you more stories. He was full of them. It was like he collected them from every person he met.

As you walked to the car and finished up your ice cream, you gave him a side eye. “So I have to know…Captain America? Really?”

Sam chuckled. “Hey, all I did was jog. He chose a new spot that day and passed me like a million times. No, he's a solid dude. Just…regular,” he said. “Well, regular and he can whup alien ass,” he said and laughed.

“I don’t think it’s easy for him to be in our time. When he went into the ice, we were at war with the Nazis. When he came out of it, suddenly there’s internet and TV shows, and everyone’s got a car. It’s a lot,” Sam said.

You nodded. “I’m glad he has you. Everyone needs a Sam in their life, it’s kind of the requirement if that’s your name,” you said.

“How you figure?” He asked.

“Lord of the Rings, Supernatural, Game of Thrones…” you listed off. Sam stopped walking and stared at you.

“Don’t tell me you’re a nerd,” he said. He made ‘nerd’ sound so dirty. You opened your mouth to argue from here until kingdom come about how awesome being a nerd was before you saw him fighting a smile.

“You get on my nerves!” You said. He laughed and you threw away your ice cream cups. Even after eating that and being out in the harbor, Sam’s hand was warm as he grabbed yours. You smiled and put your head on his shoulder.

“This was amazing, Sam,” you said as you walked to the car.

“I’m very glad,” he said. He put his head next to yours before letting you go and opening the car door for you.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you said. He shrugged. “I like doing it,” he said.

You slid into the car. Your nerves were shot. You know he didn’t expect anything from you, but you also promised your mom that you wouldn’t be too late. You knew that no amount of coaxing from your siblings would get her to settle down. She would stay up until every member of her flock was at home.

She wasn’t that bad, most nights. But it had been too long since you went on a date. Sam slipped into the car and backed out. “Back to your place, right?”

You smiled. Damn the man. He seemed to pick up on your thoughts as if he could read them. You squinted at him. You can’t actually read my mind, can you?

“If you say my goatee is on my face again, we’re gonna have a problem,” he said and chuckled.

Okay, couldn’t read your mind. You laughed. “My place is good, thank you.”

You talked more on the way back to your place. The itis was starting to hit you and you yawned. Sam chuckled. “Almost there,” he said.

He pulled onto your street. All the carefree fun you had soured in your gut. You didn’t want to return to the hellhole. Some wispy part of you wished Sam would keep driving and kidnap you, take you far, far away.

Fairytales didn’t happen in real life. Even lives filled with gods and aliens. And not for Black girls who had to grow up too fast.

Sam pulled up to the curb. The porch light was on. You were sure your mom was somewhere in the house, listening and waiting for you to open the door. You stared out of the window and mentally rallied your patience.

“Hey, I want you to know that you can always talk to me. It’s not that I demand to know everything up front, but I can tell when you’re holding something back. I’d rather you tell me that you don’t want to share something than feel like you have to hide it or lie to me,” he said.

You smiled at him. “My home life is really insane. I don’t want to get into something deeper if it’ll end up being too much for you. My family will always require more of my focus,” you said.

Sam nodded. “I’m not asking you to choose between me and your family. I’m asking for a chance to decide that for myself. I can’t do that without all of the facts.”

He was right. You knew he was right. It wasn’t fair to keep all of the cards and blame him for not being able to play. “It’s a lot. Can I swear to tell you in chunks?”

“I can work with that. So, that means I get a second date?” He asked and waggled his eyebrows.

“Boy, bye,” you said and chuckled. “But yes. Safe to say I want to go on a second date with you,” you said.

He nodded and got out of the car. He came around and opened the door for you. It was pointless fighting him on it at this point. He was just going to find a sneakier, faster way to do it. While it would be hilarious to see him scurry around the car to open the door for you, it was much easier to let him be a gentleman. And it was lowkey really nice.

You got out and Sam took your hand. He walked you to the door like a proper gentleman. At the door, Sam faced you. “I had a really good time with you. And I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. That’s all I want,” he said.

You stepped closer. “Just shut up and kiss me already,” you said.

Sam chuckled before getting closer and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was practically chaste. But then he smiled against your lips and kissed you like he meant it. He pressed his lips more firmly against yours.

He licked your bottom lip and you gasped. He slipped his tongue inside and cupped the back of your head. You melted against him and he held you up, taking the kiss from you. You followed his lead as he explored your mouth with his. The kiss felt magical. So magical that your panties grew damp.

You didn’t know how much time passed by before you broke apart, needing air. “Damn,” you said on a sigh.

Sam chuckled. He placed his forehead against yours as he caught his breath. He smelled faintly like the ice cream he had. “I’m gonna be counting the days until I can do that again,” he said.

“Don’t wait too long,” you said.

He chuckled and kissed you again. “You better get in the house before I embarrass myself,” he said.

You chuckled and kissed him one more time for the road. You unlocked the door and went inside with a tiny wave. He nodded. You closed the door and locked it and knocked on the door. He knocked back.

You heard the car door slam shut and then the driver’s side open and shut. The car turned over. You rested your back against the door, grinning like an idiot. You were glad that the house was dark so no one would catch the little dance you did.

As far as first dates went, he knocked it out of the park and you couldn’t wait for the second one.

Masterlist | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Sam Wilson Files #Sam Wilson x Black!reader #Sam Wilson x Black reader #Sam Wilson x Fem!reader #Sam Wilson x Fem reader #Sam Wilson x plus size reader #Sam Wilson x reader #Sam Wilson x you #Sam Wilson fanfic #Sam Wilson fan fic #Black writers #Sam Wilson Falcon #Sam Wilson Captain America #marvel smut

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the-name-is-z · 6 months ago

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SKELETONS | ch. 31

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group assesses their choices under threat of the Governor. Daryl reevaluates his relationship with Merle. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; pointing weapons at each other; this is what happens when you don't go to therapy; scars from child abuse; discussions of abuse; shootouts; intentional walker breach; sabotage

Chapter 31 - Home Away

“The shit are you doing pointing that thing at me?” Merle hissed as they walked through the tree line into the forest. He had eventually caught up to his brother, ready to unleash all of his ill-placed frustrations.

“They were scared, man.” Daryl replied calmly.

“They were rude, is what they were. Rude and they owed us a token of gratitude.” Merle snapped.

“They didn’t owe us nothing.” Daryl sighed defeatedly. What could he say to change his brother’s entire sense of self? The most heartbreaking part was that Daryl was still trying to convince himself that he could.

“Yeah, and you’re helping people out of the goodness of your heart? Even though you might die doing it? Is that something your Sheriff Rick taught you?”

“There was a baby!” Daryl snapped, wheeling around on his brother.

“Oh, otherwise you would have just left them to the biters, then.” Merle hissed. Clearly this was about something else. Clearly Merle was projecting. He would grow up more than he ever had if he could ever admit it to anyone. But Daryl knew he couldn’t, so he brought it out into the open anyways.

“Man, I went back for you. You weren’t there.” Daryl stated plainly. “I didn’t cut off your hand, neither. You did that.” He pointed, his rage coming out full force. “Way before they locked you up on that roof! You asked for it.” Merle blinked incredulously, a disbelieving grin breaking out on his face.

“You know— you know what’s funny to me? You and Sheriff Rick are like this now. Right?” He laughed, holding up his crossed index and middle finger. “You staying for him or that nice pair of tits with the knives and the tight ass?” The warning look Daryl gave his brother was lethal. “I’d bet you a penny and a fiddle of gold that you never told any of them that we were planning on robbing that camp blind.”

“It didn’t happen.” Daryl replied lowly.

“Yeah, it didn’t. Because I wasn’t there to help you.” Merle snarked. Daryl scoffed.

“What, like when we were kids?” Daryl hissed. “Huh? Who left who then?”

“What?” Merle yelled. “Huh? Is that why I lost my hand?”

“You lost your hand because you’re a simpleminded piece of shit!” Daryl huffed, shoving him away as Merle got closer. He turned away, making to walk off into the forest when Merle grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah? You don’t know!” Merle yelled, yanking the scruff of his shirt back. Daryl stumbled to the ground as the fabric tore, ripping down the seams to reveal the expanse of his back. Merle paused, recoiling as Daryl stumbled to his feet, grasping at the remains of his shirt to cover his skin. The damage, however was done.

Amidst two angel tattoos Merle didn’t know he had, Daryl had about a dozen gnarled scars marring the pale skin of his back. They were lashed in a familiar pattern, one that Merle knew well, one that mirrored the swing of their father’s belt. They were brutal and clearly healed poorly. They were also old, and Merle had a few, albeit minor, scars of his own from their father, so he knew how old Daryl must have been when he received them.

“I— I didn’t know he was—“ Merle stammered, eyes blown wide in genuine shock. Daryl kept his back turned to his brother as the emotions and tears flooded through him, tears he received lashings for at one point in his life.

“Yeah, he did.” He answered, pulling on his backpack to cover the scars when the scraps of his shirt wouldn’t. “He did the same to you, that’s why you left first.”

“I had to, man.” Merle’s voice cracked as Daryl gathered his crossbow, his bolts and started walking. Merle stumbled after him. “I would have killed him otherwise.” He admitted. “W-where you going?”

“Back where I belong.” Daryl stated. He was done trying to convince himself he could tolerate Merle enough to abandon his friends. People who had been more of a family to him than Merle had ever been. Blood or not.

“I can’t go with you.” Merle replied simply, his voice breaking. “I tried to kill that black bitch. Damn near killed the Chinese kid.” He looked like he was about to cry, and Daryl turned away.

“He’s Korean.” Daryl corrected. Merle huffed in disbelief.

“W-Whatever! Doesn’t matter, man. I just can’t go with you.”

“You know, I may be the one walking away…” Daryl started, clearing his burning throat. “But you’re the one that’s leaving. Again.” He let the crunching of the leaves under his feat drown out the roaring in his ears, the soft huffs and curses from Merle as his brother turned another way. Daryl needed to find his way back to the prison. It would be easy enough. To convince them to take him back might prove to be more difficult.

Iris wished more than anything that Daryl would come back. Glenn was fighting with his own rage, Hershel fighting it with him. Rick was wandering in the field losing his mind, and everyone else was too scared or too busy to do anything. To step up and say something, even. Iris wished she could afford to mentally check out like everyone else.

She walked past the field, spotting Hershel chatting with Rick through the fence. Carl came to stand beside her, and she silently put a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re a strong kid, Carl.” She murmured. He looked up at her, simply nodding.

“You too. A strong adult, I mean.” He corrected, stammering. She smiled softly, flicking his hat down over his nose. He scoffed, adjusting it with a smile. “You think he’ll come back soon?”

“He will.” Iris assured. “I’m more worried about Hershel hobbling back through the field.”

“He can manage.” Carl shrugged. Iris smiled.

“I know—“ Her reply was interrupted with a silenced shot. Axel, who was joking with Carol to lighten the mood a bit, went down like a sack of potatoes, his blood spattered all over her face and the concrete. “Get down!” Iris yelled. She pulled a rifle over her shoulder, crouching behind the bleachers and peering through the scope. The eyepatch-wearing bastard stared right back, as if he could see her from the tree line across the field. Was a hell of a shot, in all honesty.

“Beth! Carol! Inside!”

They did as she asked, running inside, Beth comforting Carol as she stuttered in shock. The shots rained down on the courtyard, everyone pressing their stomachs to the asphalt. Michonne was somewhere in the yard, able to fire back intermittently alongside Iris as they played along in the shootout. They had someone in their damn guard tower. One in the tower, one in the trees, two by the truck across from the gate.

The gunfire stopped as everyone took shelter, seizing the moment to catch their breath and allow the adrenaline to settle. Maggie, Beth and Carol ran from inside the prison, all holding rifles. The Governor’s men started shooting as they ran across the tarmac, but they all made it to various points of cover before any more blood was shed. Iris grit her teeth as they exchanged a few more rounds, but they all stopped. A truck engine sounded in the distance, and she paled.

The smaller truck was loaded to the brim with weight, it was evident in the sound of the engine. But it was going fast enough. It barrelled through their gates, effectively destroying their main method of protection. Or at least, access to the field. The driver curled around, pulling the truck to a stop. The back was fashioned recently, Iris noticed, the ramp acting as a gate between the truck’s cargo and the outside. It was then that she realized what they were doing. Her eyes flew to the gate of the yard to make sure it was locked. The ramp unlatched, thudding as it hit the ground.

The walkers poured out of it eagerly. Hungry. Angry. Hershel was still in the field. The person in the truck was armoured, and booked it out of the field while their army provided cover fire.

“Fuck.” Iris hissed as a bullet whipped past her, just grazing her arm. She hissed a breath in, clutching her hand to the wound as she glared holes into the man who shot her. Maggie got a good shot in, taking out the one in the guard tower. Iris took the chance and started firing into the field, hoping to clear a path for Hershel. The Governor and his men retreated, firing a few more victory shots before peeling off down the road. They drove right past Glenn, who could barely register what was happening before they were gone.

Not under fire anymore, the group poured out into the field, unloading on the walkers like they had their first day there. Michonne ran in with her katana, making quick work of many of them. Glenn drove right into the field, heading for Hershel. Michonne helped Glenn get him into the truck. They drove right back up, everyone filing into the courtyard, Carl locking the gate behind them. Iris stabbed as many of them as she could through the gate, but they lost interest fairly quickly.

“Motherfucker!” Iris muttered to herself, looking over the field. More would keep filing in, they had no damn gate. The rage radiated from her in waves, and she dropped the rifle before she accidentally squeezed the trigger.

Iris was pacing in the cafeteria where everyone had gathered when Rick came in. Except he was not alone. He was quickly followed by Merle and Daryl Dixon. Iris stopped dead, her surprise not well-contained. This would not be good for her anger. In fact, it made it significantly worse. She kept it together as they moved into the cell block, Rick designating the other area as Merle’s solitary confinement for the time being. They needed to come up with a plan. They spent the night trying to recover from the attack before Rick gathered everyone for a meeting in the morning.

“We’re not leaving.” Rick said firmly.

“We can’t stay here.” Hershel insisted, feeling his argument from earlier was strengthened by the attack.

“What if there’s another sniper? A wood pallet won’t stop one of those rounds.” Maggie asked.

“We can’t even go outside.” Beth stated in a slight panic.

“Not in the daylight.” Carol added.

“If Rick says we’re not running, we’re not running.” Glenn said firmly.

“No, better to live like rats.” Merle mused from his place at the door, hands through the bars. For some reason, it felt right to see him this way.

“You got a better idea?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, we should have slid out of here last night and lived to fight another day.” He replied. “But we lost that window, didn’t we? I’m sure he’s got scouts on every road out of this place by now.”

“We ain’t scared of that prick.” Daryl growled.

“Y’all should be.” Merle stated lowly. “That truck through the fence thing? That’s just him ringing the doorbell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he’s got the guns and the numbers. If he takes the high ground around this place, shoot, he could just starve us out if he wanted to.”

“Let’s put him in the other cell block.” Maggie suggested, fighting the ever-present urge to cut out his tongue.

“No, he’s got a point.” Daryl muttered.

“This is all you! You started this!” Maggie spat at Merle, who accepted the accusation with a shrug.

“What’s the difference who’s fault it is? What should we do?” Beth asked.

“I said we should leave.” Hershel reiterated. “Now Axel’s dead. We can’t just sit here.” Rick turned his back on him, trudging toward the gate. “Get back here!” Hershel yelled, his voice echoing. Iris raised a brow. “You’re slipping, Rick. We’ve all seen it. We understand why. But now is not the time. You once said this isn’t a democracy. Now you have to own up to that. I put my family’s life in your hands. So get your head clear and do something.”

Iris hissed as the alcohol touched her wound, changing the bandage for the second time as per Hershel’s instruction. She held the wad of cotton to the graze, hoping this would keep it from getting infected. Footsteps echoed outside the cell, a shadow filling the doorway.

“Thought you didn’t like the cells.” His low, grumbling voice stated. Iris didn’t bother to look up. She knew it was Daryl, and she was mad at him. Not as mad as she wished she was, but mad nonetheless.

“I don’t. But desperate times…” She replied shortly, gesturing to the open first-aid kit in front of her.

“Need help?” He asked, leaning against one arm on the doorway. She looked up to meet his eyes.

“Nope.” She said pointedly. He pursed his lips a little, turning to the outside before walking in further.

“Want help?” He corrected. She shook her head, turning back to the wound on her arm. All she had left were the bandages anyways. She took the roll in her hand but Daryl stopped her, taking it from her before she had a chance to tighten her grip. He said nothing as he placed the folds of gauze over the wound, subsequently wrapping the bandage around her upper arm. His touch was shockingly gentle, soft callus rubbing against her skin. She rolled her shoulder, testing it. It was the perfect tightness, damn him. “Iris—“

“Don’t.” She stated, looking up at him. If she was being honest with herself, she was downright excited that he was back. And she knew him, at least to some extent. If they were back, it was because he had more than a good idea of what they felt about Merle, and decided that he’d rather hate his own brother alongside his other family. If they still could call themselves that. “I don’t… need an explanation. I know why you left. And I think I know why you came back.”

“Okay…” He said slowly. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, drawing blood.

“I don’t like your brother.” She said plainly. He blinked, and she could have sworn a corner of his mouth turned upward. Damn, she missed him.

“I don’t like him either.” He replied. She blinked.

“Okay…” She said slowly. They stood for a moment in silence, finding familiarity in it. She sighed, closing her eyes, and hated herself for a moment before opening her mouth. “I wish you’d stayed.”

“I do too.” He replied honestly, and she opened her eyes. He swallowed thickly. “I’m not leaving again.” He said it like a promise, and she nodded.

“Okay.” She said softly. The tone of her voice could have had Daryl’s lip quivering if he let it. He kept his expression stoic as Rick’s voice echoed from downstairs, both of them trailing down the steps to find him giving orders.

“Take watch. Eyes open, head down.” He instructed Maggie, handing her his set of keys. “Field’s filled with walkers. Didn’t see any snipers out there, but we’ll keep Maggie on watch.”

“I’ll get up in the guard tower, take out half them walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fence.” Daryl offered.

“Or use some of the cars to put the bus in place.” Michonne suggested.

“We can’t access the field without burning through our bullets.” Hershel denied, shaking his head. Glenn huffed.

“So we’re trapped in here. There’s barely any food or ammo.” He said, exasperated.

“We’ve been here before. We’ll be alright.” Daryl assured.

“That's when it was just us.” Glenn snapped. “Before there was a snake in the nest.”

“Man, are we gonna go through this again?” Daryl asked. His tone was gentle, easing into the argument, but there was a definite warning in his eyes. “Look, Merle’s staying here. He’s with us now. Get used to it—“

“Hey—“ Rick started.

“—All of y’all.” Daryl snapped, turning back up the stairs and brushing past Iris to get some space.

“Seriously, Rick, I don’t think Merle living here is really gonna fly.” Glenn stated plainly.

“I can’t kick him out.” Rick huffed.

“I wouldn’t ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you.” Glenn argued. Rick pressed his lips together in a fine line. Iris watched nervously, folding her arms across her chest.

“Merle has military experience. He may be erratic, but don’t underestimate his loyalty to his brother.” Hershel replied. Iris pursed her lips. That was a good point. Merle did appear rather eager to remain in a relatively safe space. Or remain with Daryl, at least.

“What if we solve both problems at once?” Glenn asked. “Deliver Merle to the Governor. Bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce.”

“You think Daryl will let that happen?” Iris asked, shaking her head. “We can’t play judge, jury and executioner, no matter how much Merle might deserve it. If the Governor did this to you, to Maggie, to Daryl, without cause, what the hell do you think he’s going to do to a traitor?” Hershel shook his head, making his way over to where Merle busied himself in the other room. Glenn huffed, storming away to calm or further enrage himself. Iris raised an eyebrow at Rick, who nodded in agreement.

She turned on her heel, heading back up the stairs to the cell she’d been occupying at the end of the walk. Carol walked by briskly, a frown on her face. Iris followed her path to the cell. Daryl sat on the cot, winding a piece of twine around one of his crossbow bolts. He had a poncho strewn across the top bunk and his boots tucked against the wall. Iris raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Make yourself at home?” She asked quietly. He looked up, putting the arrow down in his lap. “Carol just walked by looking like she found a fingernail in her soup.” Daryl recoiled a bit, frowning.

“Came to say she’s glad I came back.” He murmured, gaze wandering off into the distance.

“And?”

“And I told her this place was a tomb.” He grumbled. Iris snorted, shaking her head.

“You’ve gotta work on your bedside manner.” She stated. He nodded in agreement, still staring into space. “T-Dog called it that too.” He grunted.

“She also said that Merle was bringing me down.” He stated, picking up the arrow again to pick at it. Iris raised an eyebrow.

“She’s not exactly wrong.” She pointed out. He pursed his lips.

“He’s my brother.”

“I know a thing or two about cutting ties with family. Sometimes it’s what’s best for you. I’m not saying that’s what you should do, but make sure you’re making choices for yourself, not just him.” Iris said slowly. Daryl’s gaze focused as he turned to look at her.

“Do I got a sign on my forehead asking for advice?” He asked, deadpan. Iris’ lips split into a grin as his turned up at the corners. They both laughed under their breath, looking down at the ground for a moment. He paused. “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry? Can you repeat that?” Iris asked, leaning toward him with her hand cupping her ear. He snorted, looking away. “I can’t believe this. Something happened to you.”

“I ain’t gonna say it again.” He murmured, looking back up at her with a small smile. She returned it, and something fell into place again. Something she’d been missing.

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

Send me a message or comment to be added! <3

#thenameisz #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x original character #skeletons #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc

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clearkidhideout · 1 year ago

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fucked up kid

pt 2. the bonfire

y/n pov

When the bonfire starts that guy gally starts handing out jars of his "secret drink" i bet you he doesn't even know what it is. when i take a swing of the drink it burns my throat. "bloody hell, what the fuck is that". it tasted good but man did it hurt my throat. soon enough i got used to the taste and was well on my way to get a fourth cup. i stare as i walk watching the other boys including newt dance around the fire. i feel someone walk up next to me it's thomas

"hey thomas"

"hi y/n, how you holding up" he asked shyly

"pretty well actually im not even drunk yet and im on my fourth cup" i say.

He laughs "no actually, how are you i know it's only been a couple of hours but are you ok"

i stare at him "yeah im fine. being surrounded by boys is stressful but it will have to do" i give him a smile just as i feel someone yank me back by the collar of my shirt.

"for fucks sake you peice of shit" i scream at whoever yanked me back. turns out it was gally .

"hey little greenie, its a tradition of ours to fight the new green bean" he smirks at me

i just roll my eyes if he wants to fight we can fight "gally are you sure i dont want to beat your ass infront of these people" i gesture around to the other boys catching newts eyes as he shakes his head at me warning me. what the hell do they not think i can win, well ill show them.

Gally just laughs in my face " aw little girl is too scar-" was all he got out be fore i kicked him in the stomach

"for the fucking last time im not scared i dont care"

he throws me down knocking the wind out of me but not for long because i sock him in the nose just as he explains that he would end me. i hear a satisfying crunch that makes blood shoot out of his nose on to my hand which might i add was a little disgusting.

"Y/N WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO" alby runs over to me and gally yelling

"I DID NOTHING BUT FIGHT HIM CAUSE FOR FUCKS SAKE HE WANTED TO FIGHT AND HE HAD TO BLAB ABOUT BEATING MY ASS LIKE SHUT UP DIPSHIT NO ONE CARES BECAUSE I WON THE FUCKING FIGHT" i yell back

alby just looks at me in disbelief because i guess no one ver talked to him in that way which they should and he called the medjacks to take alby and fix his goddamn nose. then they brought me into this coucling room told me to sit in a chair and proceeded to agree to lock me up in what ever they call is a slammer

"you can't do that i litterally just won a fight and your locking me in a slammer what the hell is a slammer anyway" furious that they would even dare to do that.

newt says "alby she's righ-

"of course i am" i inturupt

he continues like he didn't even hear me "right we cant lock her up in the slammer because she won a fight with gally remeber minho he broke gally's arm and we let him go"

alby turns to newt and sighs pinching his nose "well what do you want me to do"

"well you could um..... you could send someone to supervise her and not let her near gally" he saind blushing a flustered

"supervise me as in babysit" it still made me pissed but ill get what i can take

just then alby looks up sharply"newt who's going to watch her. i know you on top of your job keep an eye on her"

"i have a name you know not just her its y/n and if you cant call me that dont talk" i snap back

alby looks at me "shut up y/n newt take her somewhere else out of my sight"

newts pov

bloody great i got myself into this by suggesting someone to watch her and she's mad

"what do you want"y/n snapped at me "lets go"

she turns and stomps out of the homestead even when she is mad i still think that she looks beautiful

she sits down by a log and looks at me. "am i really scary you have to keep me under your watch"

i sit down next to her " i dont think your scary just tough we need that around here maybe you could help me whip the boys back into shape"

she laughs and i make it my personal goal to make her laugh like that all the time

"you sound just like my mom" she freezes and looks at me and i have a feeling my expression matches her own

"what" i say shocked

she looks at me "what dipshit"

"its just people here dont remember their life before the glade and you do" i question her

"i dont remember anything just the important stuff. like the people i know or things that happened. i dont remember any of their names though and i dont remember what happened or how i got here " she looks at me again this time her voice is laced with a tiny bit of frusteration and confusion

"thats more than most can remember you know what your friends look like i cant even remember what my life was before all this happened" i gesture around the glade

she snorts at me " like i said before newt just important people in my life but they are like blurry pictures and its only glipses here and there, other things im not willing to share are like clear as day, and i remember you" she pauses looking shocked at what she just admitted to me

"you remember me" i ask wanting to know more

"yes, just one memory though when you asked me to come to the bonfire it reminded me of a time when you asked me to come to a party with you" she looked at me shocked again

"well glad to hear that because i think i had the same memory at that time" i smiled at her

"you liked me" she states bluntly

i was surprised "i did"

she looks at me again "damn this drink, i spilled more than i wanted to, to you and it's all because of this mother fucker right here" she shakes the drink and glares down at it which causes me to laugh

y/n pov

"i think im gonna call it a night" i say to newt

he looks at me startled "what"

"it was nice talking to you but today was stressful im tired and would like sleep so newt would you like to walk me to my bed or not" i say

"um ok"

he walks me to my bed and we exchange farewells i might not trust him but i like him enough to call him a nice aquantence

#newt x reader #newt tmr

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gojosatoruhumper · 2 years ago

Text

I was left alone in my dorm for a month because my roommate going on a family vacation. It was already late and i was on my sofa watching some random movie, thinking about my friend Ethan. He was so fucking hot since the moment I saw him. Every night i think about him bending me over, and I couldn't wait anymore, I needed him. Suddenly, my phone ringing ended my daydreams bringing me back to reality as I pick up the phone. ''Who's this?'' I say getting up to get something to drink.

'Hello, Y/n'', I hear a deep voice on the other end of the line ''Ill ask again, who is this??'' I say getting a little scared ''Hm...Let's just say you will soon see who this'' the man says as I get more concerned. I was between my wall and a counter facing it, getting nervous, knowing Ghost Face was out to kill my friend's and me. ''Look behind you, my beautiful'' He says as I get even more scared. I slowly turn around to the fridge and see no one. ''Asshole there's no one behind me'' I say relieved but when I turn back around I see Ghost Face. I scream at the top of my lungs, ready to be stabbed to death. ''now there's someone in front of you, princess'' he says as a tear scrolls down my face shutting my eyes closed becoming paralyzed.

His face comes closer to my face ''oh don't cry now, or I slit your throat open'' he says as I open my eyes looking at him. He wasn't wearing any gloves, my expression changing as I start realizing it's Him, by his soft hands. He immediately notices that i have realized who he is. Still in shock the only think I could think right now that he is even hotter with his Ghost Face costume on, knowing he can slice me any second. He took off his mask slowly, as he did he shook his hair out, flashing me a smirk. that smirk sending me over the edge my cunt getting wetter by the second. He comes even closer knife to my throat, ''When I said that i will slit your throat I meant ill fuck it instead'' he says crashing his lips in to mine. I let out a moan feeling him leave a little slash on my throat, not a deep one. He also leaves that as an opportunity to shove his tongue down. He then takes my face in his hand ''You're desperate for this aren't you?'' he says slightly laughing at me. I shake my head up and down, ''Yes yes yes pleas-'' I get cut off by a slap on my cheek. ''Then get on your knees'' he says, his tone dark and hot. I get on my knees, undoing his belt, sliding it down with his boxers as soon as I undo it his cock springs out, hard. He holds his gown up with his one hand, revealing his toned torso. I looked at it and back at him ''It gets hot in this thing so I didn't wear a shirt'' he says shrugging.

I lick the tip slowly, feeling his other hand grab a hand full of my hair bringing my head all the way down. ''of fuck'' he moans ''I always wondered how your mouth would feel, I bet that cunt feels even better'' he says throwing his head back, mouth agape. He gripped my hair even harder, thrusting it back and forth on his cock. He got his head up, still slightly on his shoulder, bringing my head up to his face again, as he slams my head onto his head, sucking on your lips, pulling on your hair to reveal your still bleeding neck. He starts leaving hickeys on your neck, also licking some of your blood up. I moan not being able to stop it from coming out. ''you sound just like as I imagined it'' he says flipping me over, leaving me bending over the table face pressed up against the table. He takes his knife off the table, ripping my tank top and bra in half. He also took off my shorts and underwear off, slapping my ass. He throws the knife on the table grabbing my hair again while rubbing my clit. He leans over leaving bite marks and hickeys on my shoulders.

You're so pretty did you know that? I always wanted to stick something inside of you Y/N'' he says tracing the knife across my back. Suddenly he forces his cock inside of me as I loudly moan feeling the cold bloody knife on my skin. He thrusts in me so hard I didn't even feel him carving something on my back. ''You're mine, got it princess?'' he says as he carves ''Mine'' on my back. My only response was to moan. His cock buried deep inside of me and the chill blade was to much to take. He kept thrusting, slightly moaning. 'Daddy- ngh I'm so close to-'' I say as I get cut off by Ethan ''You're only cumming when I say you can''. He took my hair in his fist, smushing me harder to the table as more tears go down my face. ''Please ill do anythi-'' I get cut off again by another harsh slap on my ass. ''Ngh- you can- cum now'' Ethan says moaning as he releases his load into me at the same time as I squirt all over him. ''Good girl'' he says to me turning me back around. He looks at me with his smirk, leaning in to leave more hickeys on my neck. ''I would kill anyone for you'' he whispers in between kisses.

#scream #scream vi #ethan landry #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 #fanfiction #smut #ghostface #degrade kink #knife kink

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minkkumaz · 1 year ago

Note

I JUST DIED OMG MY FRIEND. dude omg bro okay dude so like dude bro!!!

my friend has been dating this guy right, and she had their first kiss like literally yesterday (i SWEAR im going somewhere w this) but basically she asked him to whistle and yk when u whistle you pucker out your lips?? SHE STRAIGHTUP LIKE KISSED HIM.

idk if this counts as a request but i swear it isnt u dont have to reply to this if it seems like one!! 😭😭

but omg what would the bonedos reaction be. LIKE I CAN SEE JAEHYUN EITHER STUCK IN THE 😗 FACE OR HES JUST LIKE 😧.

-🍉

STOP IT YOUR FRIEND IS SO BOLD OMG can she give me tips on how to rizz up yungyu like that🤔🤔

also i love love the bonedo boys with that, i dont consider this much of a req especially if im not formatting it all aesthetically HAHA so ill give u a little smidge here ^_^

also sorry if i went overboard or its bad LMAOO its like midnight almost 1 am here💔💔

sungho :

- this man is obsessed with you and he would quite literally do anything for you.

- he definitely didnt want to rush into kissing because he believes in the art of slow burn

- and though he would never admit to it he does really want to kiss you

- "sunghoooo do you know how to whistle? i've been trying to learn all day.."

- "darlings it's easy, you basically pucker your lips like this and-"

- you lean in to land a soft kiss on his lips, interrupting his train of thought

- i think bro feels like he just got hit with a heat wave bc he didn't know he could blush this much

- at first he wanted your guys first kiss to be special, but your quirky charm and tactics you used to get him right where you wanted him is what made him fall in love in the first place

- "gahh you're so cute darling, i might have to teach you to whistle more often."

riwoo :

- i don't think riwoo is the type to initiate a first kiss, not unless he was pep talked by jae or something (come on, jae is everyones wingman)

- he loves you so much, and i know as soon as that first is out of the way he will not be able to stop kissing you

- it's kinda early in the morning and today you are going with riwoo to the studio!

- birds are chirping, singing their lil song, which gives you an idea; very sudden, but an idea

- "riwoo you kinda remind me of a bird."

- "what's that supposed to mean?" he pouts.

- "nothing bad! you're just so cute whenever you are all smiley and singing its like a little bird tweeting. bet you could whistle like one too."

- "i think my singing is probably better than my whistling." he looks over at you to demonstrate, but you're already looking right back at him!

- taking him aback slightly, you plant a little kiss on his puckered lips then quickly skip ahead of him

- hes very dumbfounded, but already plotting in his head how he's going to attack you with kisses (in private, doesnt give me much of a pda guy besides holding hands ^^;)

jaehyun :

- this man has been secretly plotting against you to catch you in the most perfect first kiss ever

- unlike woonhak, he wants to kiss u with permission.. and on ur adorable lips (referencing the funnextdoor vid where he kisses woons head LMAOO)

- little does he know you're also planning to outsmart his ass

- the two of you are playing a game on the console in the living room, getting slightly competetive

- "if i win you have to sing me to sleep tonight!" you say mashing on the keys of your controller

- "babyyy you know i already do that for you."

- "guess i got you wrapped around my finger then!" you smile, passing the finish line with a big '1ST PLACE' on your screen.

- "this game is rigged!"

- "less talking more singing pretty boy" you snuggle yourself into the makeshift bed on the couch, jae on the floor with his back against the bottom part, looking up at you.

- "okay what song?"

- "the one i like with the whistling in the beginning."

- as jaehyun puckers out his lips to start, you lean in quickly to catch a kiss

- he has zero reaction, maintaining the same face you caught him in, before his jaw dropped

- you were giggling so hard as he gets up from his spot on the floor to heave himself on top of you

- "i was supposed to initiate our first kiss, babyyy!" he whines, leaning in to kiss your lips again

taesan :

- bro wants to actually kiss you so bad

- im a firm believer in down bad taesan

- and he really wants to kiss you

- but he doesnt want to make you uncomfortable, so whenever he finds himself pulling up your chin to look at him, he only smiles and pulls away

- part of you wanted him to kiss you, but you had a slightly better idea

- taesan was on the floor customizing a pair of shoes. he was whistling quietly to himself before stopping

- "hey what was that tune you were whistling? sounded pretty."

- "you're prettier, but it was just something i came up with last night." he responds fondly.

- you came and sat next to him on the floor, admiring his work.

- "can you do it again please?"

- "only for you love."

- he begins whistling, and you let him for a second because of how gorgeous the tune sounds

- but before you know it, youre pulling up his chin with the infinite rizz you have and kissing him on the lips

- BUT NO. he doesnt let you pull away

- he just smiles into the kiss, pulling you closer to him (and probably getting paint on the back of your head)

leehan :

- i think bro would be easiest to trick with this

- i feel like it might be obvious where i'm gonna go with this.. LMAO

- i am an avid supporter of the leehan fish prince agenda

- he is so in love with you, just as much as his fishies in his little aquarium

- one day you come visit him in the dorms, walking in to see him just admiring the small fish

- he sees the movement of your reflection in the glass, so when you come sit next to him he isn't very shocked

- "you're so interesting when you admire your tank."

- "am i?"

- "yup, you're starting to look like one too."

- "hey! taesan told me that yesterday."

- "give me your best fish face to really seal the deal," you giggle, "kinda like you're whistling!"

- he obliges, pursing his lips into a little kissy face, before you can lean your own lips against his!

- bros entire life played in his head he almost lost his chill guy persona

- leehan was staring at you with so much fondness as he was zoning out you almost got a little worried

- "hannie- hannie!"

- "you are so perfect, y/n." he grins, pulling you into another kiss (in front of his fish children smh)

woonhak :

- this might be a hot take but i think woonhak is similar to riwoo when it comes to first kisses. unless jae is there to hype him up he wont do it

- of course he wants to kiss you, he enjoys affection and god especially when it's with you

- nothing you could ever do would make him look away, you're just so you.

- on a fine ol day, you're sitting with him at the park hanging out!!

- both of you are kinda stuttery, but the conversation ends up flowing fast. neither of you know whether this hangout is considered as your first date as a couple, hence the nervousness

- nonetheless, you are both laughing and just enjoying each others company

- but NO!! you want something a tad bit more

- "hey this might be a weird question but erm-- can you whistle for me?"

- "oh-- yeah of course! what for?"

- "you'll see!" you squeak out

- woon is slightly skeptical, but follows through anyways, puckering his lips to start whistling, before nothing is able to leave his lips!

- a roadblock warning he didnt see: your own lips!

- the kiss is fast, but bro is stunned

- mrs rabbit has fainted

- mrs rabbit has fainted again

- he is lowkey stressed a little, but it turns into relief. smiling so wide the whole neighborhood could see <3

#∞ ₒ ˚ omi's chats #🍉 anon ·˚ ༘ ✎#༊*·˚ anonymous peoples

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wubba3 · 4 months ago

Text

HE LOVES ME AGAIN

It was Winter break and my phone began to ring.

It was a call from my past lover AD Rolon we fell in love in the 8th grade but he moved to New York in the beginning of 11th grade to help his father who was an Mob boss his family were a bunch a mafia and they wanted him to be apart of it. The last time I saw him he had long black curly hair and he was 5'4 when he moved we both agreed we couldn't be together we had different life's and we couldn't change.

As I answer the phone my eyes are widened from how much he seems different. "Hey what's up it me Dani" he chuckles his voice was so deep that I can feel every word shiver down my spine. I stutter as I talk. "H-hey Dani" . "Yo so I was wondering if your fine ass wanna meet up" shocked that he wants to meet up with me " yea you lucky I miss you"

He smiles at the phone. "Bet meet me at my Gramma pizza shop".( LATER ON) My jaw drops that is not the Dani i remember he was like 6'2 his hair was cut it was died blonde but you can still see his black hair you can see his abs threw his shirt. I run to him and jump in his arm he swong me in a circle

and kissed me it was like a Netflix movie he put me down and toke my hand. He says "let's go on a picnic under the train tracks" confused I say "in this weather" he smiles and takes my hand and runs out side. " hop on my motorcycle" I hop on hold on to him. "Nae close your eyes" I close my eyes and listen to the sound of his voice. "Nae alright open your eyes" I open my eyes and have a big smile on my face. "Aw this so cute Dani" he smiles "I'm glad you like it" . " I love it" we both sit down and just talk about things we miss in each other's life.

He gets a little bit closer to me and say."you know I really fucking miss you" I smile. I can feel his breath on my neck. "Your real close". "What I can't be close to you now" I can feel his lips touch my neck and my body shiver. " Dani what is you trynna do" he then begin to kiss my neck. "Relex nae don't act like you haven't felt my lips before" " I know but under a train track is crazy" he starts kissing my lips his soft lips felt so good on my body hands on my chest squeezing my boobs his hand slowly going down my stomach to inside my pants. I push him back a but " do u sure u wanna" he whispers in My ear. " I miss how wet the cute little pussy of yours would get" I feel fingers rub my clit. "Ah ah D-Dani" I can feel his fingers go in and out me my clit quivering, "see nae that's those cute moans I missed damn girl your so wet" (he then took his shirt off and and his pants) I then did the same he unbuttoned my bra for me I he started kissing down my neck to my shoulder and bites it)

"nae do you wanna ride it" (I smile and nod we then both take are underwear off) " I really missed you nae" (he lays on his back and I started teasing his tip) "when did your cock get this big I asked" (he chuckles) "I don't know you can still take it" (I nod my head and start sucking on his big cock he grips my head and groans) "come ride it now" ( I sit above his cock and Lower down on to it I moan as his dick enters me and start moving my hips he grips my hips he then sat up and starts making out with me as we're groaning and moaning I whimper) "I wanna cum" (he looks at me and smile then flips me on back and starts thrusting into me I moan his name Dani FUCK ME PLEASE" (I cum and squirter all over his cock he takes it out then I get on my knees and he cum on my tongue he tell me to swallow it so I did) we both then laid in each others arms and fel asleep. (The next morning I woke up in his arms we were still under the train tracks his phone was ringing he got up and started rushing* "shit I have to leave for new York today but I promise Ill be back next week I promise nae") Nae starts getting dressed and and drops me off at my house he hugs me and tells me he loves me* the next week I get a knock on my door) I run down stairs and my mom answers the door) my mom says "who is this young man at my door nae) to be continued

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commanderquinn · 2 years ago

Text

Good Space Chapter 1: Flower

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

—

master list / ao3 chapter link

—

She’s the one good thing about trips to medical in the Avenger’s Tower.

Every other day, at her direct insistence, her lab is the only place in the entire wing that he’s willing to go to. It smells warm and safe, nothing like the antiseptic that makes him want to break a limb. For the first two weeks, he tries to tell her that she doesn’t have to do this. He’s been looking after the link from his arm to his brain for years. There’s never been a problem with it that he couldn’t handle, and he’ll come back if anything ever feels off. No matter how much Steve hovers, she doesn’t need to waste her time on this.

By the start of the third week, he can’t bring himself to suggest that anymore.

—

psa: there’s some gross ass (sometimes detailed) nazi medical shit all through this fic, so if lobotomy talk of any kind is a no for you, skim over any brain talk. your best bet is just to skip the lab scenes where you can ❤️

fic title is a song by skrillex! we needed bouncy shit that vague hinted at plot. the chapter title is a moby song to lay out the v i b e s 👾 im always going to list these, so y’all have a song to listen to while reading

all i can think that needs to be said for canon clarity (ill make it all clear over time dw) is post-WS buckaroo got picked up by steve and sam to be taken for a shower and therapy. no civil war, no age of ultron. we're taking parts of it and doing other shit, you'll see. fury’s publicly alive and director again, shield got flushed out because mmmmm i said so i guess. no red room here. its not about nat, the lack of consent history hanging between them isnt something i want with this. i want to focus on other parts of their trauma bond. alsomaybeishipnatwithsomeoneinthis.

im sorry, but i never started wanda content on my end, and AI jarvis is comfy nostalgia i want to play in, so likely not a lot for her here. yes, we will be having shuri bully bucky, ofc, she’s the pin that holds this whole plot together (what else is new)

oh and i treat bucky’s arm as more of an atompunk feel rather than “the nazi’s had bleeding edge limb tech in ww2 that only affects bucky’s arm, definitely not anything else”

other than that, we’re firmly in good ‘ol stark tech magic and too many open wiki pages for all my plot device needs

also my grammar aint the good. i write these mf's in my spare time while baked af, you're gonna have to give a bitch a break babes 👾

—

Febuary 17th, 2018

"That's not what I'm asking about."

Tony throws up his hands from the other side of the conference table, then lets them smack back down against the polished surface dramatically. "Illuminate me then, Rogers. I'm running out of ways to explain that she's the best I've got to offer for this."

Steve pushes a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. "I'm not a brain surgeon."

"No shit, that's what she's here for."

"I meant that I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at."

"Now I know you're worried if you're willing to," Tony clutches at the front of his shirt in mock horror, "swear in public." Pepper smacks his shoulder without even looking up from her tablet. The sight would make Steve smile under normal circumstances.

"You can hand me any resume you want, Tony. I'm telling you that I won't be able to see a difference. I know you're giving me a team who can do the work; I'm asking if they can do it while it's Bucky."

"Are you worried about his safety or theirs?" Pepper asks, finally looking over. Her tone isn't judgemental. If anything, it's veering towards the gentleness it has when she's talking Tony down.

"I'm not worried about theirs. I will be there every time. Even if he has a bad day, I'll make sure that—look. Nothing's going to happen. It's just...." Steve flips open the folder he's been carrying for a week. The edges of it are starting to wear down at this point. Sighing, he slides his summary notes to their side of the table. "He still doesn't... he doesn't talk about the previous escapes. No matter what his therapist tries. He just can't bring himself to do it. But it's not hard to get a clear picture of what used to happen. He does this every time. He builds himself a strong house, then a fallback point, and then he goes to work trying to fix all the damage alone, which he'll never be able to do. No one could. And there's not going to be a goon squad rolling in to drag him back anymore, so he's just going to—"

"Yeah, yeah, push him to help him; I grasped the concept the first hundred times," Tony cuts in. If he weren't so damn anxious, Steve might honestly feel bad about being so far up everyone's ass over this. "You've got me on board. So, what's the concern here? Will she quit the first time he bites her head off? That's a pretty chauvinist perspective, especially coming from you."

"She's had to put up with Tony long enough to befriend him; that should be proof enough." Pepper smiles as the nightmare himself points toward her in silent agreement.

Steve raises his hands amicably. "I'm not trying to insult anyone's professionalism. I'm sure she's had more than her fair share of problem patients to get where she is today. I'm... I'm more asking if—Christ. I'm sorry in advance, alright? But... Tony, I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you'd have trusted her to get you home."

A stiff, all-consuming silence falls over the spare meeting room. Pepper and Steve waiting on bated breath; Tony frozen as he looks back at him with an expressionless face.

Steve despises himself for doing this to him. The knowledge of what happened in that cave is something the man is unimaginably protective over. It took years—and a night of blackout drinking on Tony's end—for the story to even slip out of him. Talking about Yinsen is the only time Steve's seen him cry that he can remember. It was just one overflow, barely even two tears that got scrubbed off his cheeks within the first minute, but it was there. It's the only way Steve knows to get his point across.

Tony looks down at the table and adjusts his posture. His head shifts and his lips purse in that signature move of his, the one that comes up when he's forced to be a person. With feelings. Pepper's arm moves, no doubt taking his hand under the table.

He looks back up, meeting Steve's eyes as his posture relaxes. "I wish they could have met. I think Yin would have gotten a kick out of her fashion taste. I think she'd have gotten an even bigger one out of putting him in it."

It's the most ringing endorsement he's ever heard the man give. More importantly, Steve knows just how much weight sits behind the guarded words.

—

"I've got their personnel files if you want them. They all volunteered them to you willingly."

"I'm alright."

"Do you want their names ahead of time?"

"No."

"Not even their first ones?"

"They can tell them to me."

"Okay."

"...."

"...What are they?"

"The ones that'll be behind the glass are Hannah and Wyatt." Of course Steve knows to start there, where his nerves will fixate the most. Asshole. "You probably won't even talk to the two of them today, but your main doctor for this will definitely offer to let you. Her name is Ava. She's going to check in with you for confirmation on a lot of things before she does them. I shadowed her for over a week, asshole. It's not about you; she does it for everyone."

Bucky grunts. "I wouldn't have jumped on her for it."

"No, you'd have sat there brooding like a petulant jackass instead, probably making her feel bad." Steve pauses for a long moment, fiddling with the paper coffee cup in his hands. "You should read Hannah's file, Buck."

"Why?" He shouldn't ask. He can hear the motive sitting in his best friend's voice. It's a fucking trap, and he fucking knows it, but he also can't stop himself.

"Her last name is Schuster."

He absolutely despises the way the situation makes his gut clench. They're dead. They're all dead, and the ones in their place have been declawed for much longer than he's been off ice. He's probably not even going to talk to the woman, at least not today. He might catch the sight of a name on a coat, however. Or on a chart.

He wanted to do this without letting old habits in. He wanted to at least start this feeling like a person, not a weapon. But he gets why the dickhead is trying to baby-step him into it.

Bucky holds out his hand. Steve silently passes him the tablet he keeps. Neither of them says a word as he reads the SHEILD file to himself, line by line. Taking in a stranger's entire professional life. Her family, her known associates, every residence she's ever held. It takes a moment of hovering his finger over the subfolder with her medical records to talk himself down from opening it. Nothing is lingering in those shadows; Steve wouldn't allow it. That's not a line he needs to cross anymore.

He hands it back when he's done. "The other two?"

"Nothing I could think of. Ava's seen your hard limit list—you remember I told you I was gonna give it to one of your—?"

"I remember. It's okay. That's why you have it."

"Yeah." Steve takes another long pause. "You remember that she knows—"

"I know."

"Good. The others don't. She says they don't need to for any of it, and it's never going on record again." He looks over out of the corner of his eye. "She's going to bring it up today."

"I had a hunch."

"I just wanted to make sure it didn't surprise you."

"I know."

"Good." Steve picks up his coffee to drain the last of it in one swig. He tosses the empty cup into a trashcan by the wall a few tables over before looking back at him. He extends his now-empty hand. "Ready?"

"Not in the fucking least." Bucky raises his hand to lock with his best friends momentarily. "Let's go."

There's no wing in this tower—and he's been through all of them by now—that he dislikes more than medical. The place makes his skin feel like a thousand goddamn spiders are crawling all over him, and the smell of it, fuck. It sits in his head like a fog while it burns up the inside of his nose, making him want to break anything touching any part of him. He'd make Steve be here with him no matter what; that's a given. But the fact that there's going to be a doctor poking at him today while he's trying to power through it all makes the guy's presence non-negotiable. Bucky needs the safety net for the good of everyone in that room.

Steve doesn't try for talking to distract him, mercifully enough. There are times when it helps. Today isn't going to be one of them. He doesn't even have to bring it up for Steve to know, and the reminder that he's understood helps his nerves. It's been an incredibly long time since he had an incident. He's proud of every last one of those days. He won't be upset with himself—well. He'll try not to be upset with himself if that streak ends. But he really, really wants that day not to be today.

Bucky treats it like a mission. He's braced and ready for the antiseptic when they first get through the entrance. He doesn't flinch or huff through his nose at the invasion, not even as they make their way to the specialized divisions. He's walked these hallways before; he's walked every single one in the tower. It was the only way he could get himself to sleep during his first week here. Aside from a few trips to the emergency intake, he hasn't had to force himself back.

He's definitely never bothered with meeting the specialists themselves. It took long enough to convince himself not to memorize the names of every staff member in the tower. He doesn't need to do that anymore. That's what his therapist and the Star Spangled Spandex keep insisting, anyways.

The door Steve goes for sticks out against the sleek hallway long before they reach it. It's painted, and not just a solid color; it's covered with a garden scene done by several different hands, going by the skill variation. Bucky runs his thumb over one of the hundreds of flowers as they walk past it to feel how thick the tiny acrylic mountains are. One of the petals cracks under the light pressure of the move, making him frown. The mural's not sealed at all, despite being long dried. Not the kind of thing maintenance usually overlooks.

An absolute shock of color hits Bucky's eyes when he gets his first look at the neurosurgeon's office. The walls he can spot from this side of the entryway are lined with tie-dye hanging cloths, and the floor is covered in fluffed-up, vibrant rugs. There's not a hint of SHIELD regulation left in the architecture, with all the walls that aren't glass holding even more heavy paint globs. Some of the murals are more flowers, but a majority of them are space themed.

The stench of antiseptic fades the farther into the room Bucky goes. By the time the door shuts behind him, it's entirely replaced with the warm aroma of apples and cinnamon. A long, curved desk is off to one corner, pushed against the glass wall overlooking the city and covered in picture frames. An arrangement of chairs piled with pillows matching the rest of the decor sits in the center. Each one of them is fucking massive.

The room itself is separated in half by a thick glass wall. He can spot two doctors sitting behind an array of equipment on the other, equally decorated side behind the glass. There isn't any creative paint in there from what he can spot. If it weren't for that, he could almost forget that he's standing in a medical lab.

Almost.

"Hi there," comes a voice to his right.

The woman it belongs to almost blends in with the office once Bucky turns his head to look at her. The lab coat that comes down to her knees is a solid blue rather than tye-dye, but it's covered in stitched designs. Most of them are shaped like bees. Bucky barely stops his eyebrows from raising at the sight of the outfit underneath. Loose cloth pants hanging low on her hips, with even more bees on them, and a hand-knit top that would have been called obscene during most of the decades he woke up in. The bun she's pulled her hair into must have been done this morning; more than a few bundles are hanging down haphazardly. Bucky hasn't met a lot of brain surgeons that he knows of, but he doesn't remember any of them having glasses as thick as hers. He's pretty sure that good vision is something most of them need for the job. Not that he's nervous.

She walks over with a warm smile, already extending a hand to him. She's a short, round little thing. Barely five feet, if his guess is accurate. It always is. "I'm Dr. Ryder. You can call me Ava. I'm told you're my newest patient."

He accepts the shake with a nod and tries not to think about how sweaty his hand might feel to her. Wiping it against his pants would have been too weird. "James."

"But you prefer Bucky, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Ava," he corrects himself quickly.

"Oooh, someone's stepped on some toes in the new century." Her smile takes on a teasing edge. "I'm originally from Canada; you won't find me taking offense. Ingrained cultural manners are a bitch to hold back."

"Careful, they're the only manners he's got," Steve warns, already heading for one of the chairs.

"Ignore him. I'm house-trained," Bucky assures her. Taking his hand back, he hikes a thumb over his shoulder, needing something to stall with. "You sure you don't want someone to give your door a few clear coats? It'd be a shame to see all that work chip off."

Ava waves dismissively. "We redo it a lot; it's a relaxation project around here. It'll look different pretty soon." She points toward the glass wall separating the two halves of the office. "I've got the rest of the team working on a project to give us some space, but I can bring them in for a minute if you'd like to meet them?"

"I'm... I'm alright for now, thanks. I can meet them—whenever."

She doesn't insist further or comment on the blatant nerves in his voice. Her hand waves at the arranged chairs as she moves to sit in one. "Take your pick of the lineup, then. Typically I'd offer to take you to the corner of the roof that we've claimed for ourselves as an alternative. But, I need to keep you in environmental controls for sanitation, at least for the initial visit."

Bucky nods a few times as he sits in the one next to Steve's. His ass sinks nearly a foot into nothing but pillows, and his spine goes rigid. "Here's fine."

He'd have said no anyways, not that he'll mention that. Too many open sight lines with his anxiety on edge. He'll be revisiting the roof before his next appointment to familiarize himself, though, that's for sure. His last trip up there was long before she was even hired. The mental image of bead strings and tye-dye throw blankets on patio furniture flits through his head. If she decorates the same way everywhere, he's guessing it won't be all that hard to find the space.

Ava pulls up a tablet from the coffee table to rest in the middle of her folded legs. He's guessing she's into yoga in her spare time. One of her eyebrows arches at them in amusement. "You know, I've never actually seen someone fill one of these before now."

"The benefits of dosed living," Steve quips, his tone a little too positive. It makes Bucky's foot start to bounce silently against the floor on instinct.

If she notices, the doctor doesn't mention it as she focuses on Bucky. "Steve tells me you prefer when doctors keep things direct with you."

Bucky shifts his eyes over to the man in question, who busies himself with one of the pillows, picking at the hanging fringe. Fucker's going to be hearing about this later, that's for damn sure.

He looks back at Ava. Time to get it over with, he encourages himself. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I know Steve's already told you, but I want you to hear it from my mouth. I have The Soldier's activation memorized."

He can't stop the gut instinct to swallow over hearing the words, but he nods. "I'm okay with it."

"It's not in any of my notes; it never will be. My team understands that there is a specific trigger in place; they need to in order to do their job. But they have no indication of what it is. I'll never write the words out or speak them where they can be picked up. Steve helped me with the pronunciation and the order when he first gave me your records, but you have my word that I won't be repeating them."

"You should," Bucky insists immediately. "If anything happens, you should, and you shouldn't hesitate about it."

"She knows, Buck," Steve assures him with a murmur. "I took her through the worst case drill. She's got a panic button on her."

"Steve tells me that my reaction time is fast enough for working on your case safely." Ava's head tilts to the side slightly. "Your comfort is the priority here. We can always run through a silent drill together if you'd like the reassurance."

He thinks about it. Honest to god, he lets himself sit in the idea of putting Steve's training to the test for more than a few moments. Neither of them push him for an answer. "I might take you up on that at some point."

She nods, the hair hanging closest to her face bouncing slightly. "Whenever you want. That offer is permanent. I'm taking this case on because I want to help undo what's been done; I'm not here to let it be continued, not even in research." Her eyes shift to Steve, with a bitter defiance building in them. "I trust that'll be clarified to the director if our work here ever reaches his ears, captain."

Steve nods, finally looking up from where he's moved on to picking at the pillow's stitches. "There's no more mud in that water. Fury understands how far over the line we went."

Ava doesn't look convinced in the least. Bucky doesn't blame her, not with the scattered memories of his role in all of it sitting in his head. When she looks back at him, the distrust leaves her eyes. "I'd like to get a better idea of what we'll be working with. I know that's probably going to be one of the most difficult parts of this, so we can try to get through it now if you'd like. Or we can wait until you're feeling more comfortable. It's entirely up to you."

Shifting slightly to straighten out his shoulders, Bucky nods. "I'm ready now."

It's an outright lie, but that doesn't really matter anymore. There's never going to be a time when he is ready. He still needs to do this.

"I'm going to need to adjust your head a few times today," she tells him with a relaxed, melodic tone as she stands up. She lifts a black briefcase from the coffee table and brings it over to rest on the arm of his chair, where he can easily see it being handled. "Is there anywhere you'd prefer me putting my hands? Or anywhere specific you want me to avoid?"

Bucky sees Steve shift his head slightly in his peripheral and wants to roll his eyes. Asshole. He'd have made a joke at the most; he wouldn't have been insulted. Probably. "I can't think of anywhere to steer you away from. You're good to do whatever you need to do."

She doesn't take him into the other section of the room like he thought she would. She doesn't even make him stand back up. All it takes to get the nightmare he's been dreading for years started is Ava pulling a wired, plastic wreath from the briefcase to put over the top of his head. She doesn't push a cold faceplate over his eye and against his temples; no bite guard gets shoved in his mouth. There's no frigid metal probing into the top of his neck to make his teeth buzz until he wants to rip them out of his jaw. The air around him isn't humid and suffocating like it was in that bunker. He can't hear the hum of electric coils or the squeak of leather boots on linoleum.

He's not in Siberia. He's in New York. This isn't a HYDRA agent strapping him down. This is a hippie, who definitely smoked pot this morning, putting a sensor on his head that barely has any weight.

"Here, hold this for me," she tells him from behind his chair, offering her tablet over his shoulder. He takes it silently, bringing it to rest in both hands. A digital scan of his brain is already being mapped out on the screen. It's the first time he's seen the anchor that wraps around his brainstem since the X-rays HYDRA used to leave up like trophies. "We can get a look at this thing together."

Bucky takes a deep breath in. It's… not a pretty sight. Whatever they put in him isn't registering in the bright blue lights of the rest of his brain. They're all dark spots, primarily lines branching out from the anchor that might as well be a black hole.

"You see that?" Ava leans forward to run her nail up the path of one of the lines. It starts at the anchor, and it's attached to another point further up, but that junction is the source of even more lines that go all over. There's a fucking mechanical spider web in his brain. "That's your motor cortex, and those links are tethered to your arm, starting there. That—the one right there—is what's making your cybernetics work."

"What's the rest of it?" There's a fucking lot of it, whatever it is. A lot more than he remembers being put in.

"Considering the intent of the Nazis that had you, the end goal was probably total control." Her finger moves, tapping several things that look way too fucking important as she keeps talking. "All of those there are connected to your essential functions: breathing, heart rate, consciousness. From there, they branched out into trying for control over your limbs. Jesus." She leans further over his shoulder and pinches at the screen to zoom in. "It looks like they were already building into your entire cognitive process."

"What does that mean?" Steve asks, worry rising in his tone.

"It means they were reckless on top of being cruel. And fucking stupid—pardon my French."

"You're talking to soldiers, doc," Bucky reminds her quietly, his brows drawn in as his eyes trace the black spots in his grey matter.

"Right. In that case, fuck every last one of them and the horses they rode... into whichever circle of hell they're burning in, I guess." Bucky's lips twitch slightly as she zooms back out. "They were venturing into parts of the brain that haven't been studied enough for human testing, even by today's standards. Blindly poking just to see what worked; my guess is because they knew that you could survive it. You see that big scary thing under your hippocampus?"

Bucky nods as she taps at the anchor. "Yeah. Yeah, that was… that was the first part. That got put in, I mean." He clears his throat when it starts to scratch. "I'm. I'm pretty sure it was the first part."

"Do you want to know why you don't feel sure?" she asks gently. Her voice has dropped to something much softer. It makes him sit back in the overly comfortable chair incrementally.

"Yeah," he tells her quietly, honestly. He wouldn't have a year ago.

Ava circles her finger around the center of his brain, where one of the more prominent lines from the anchor holds several thinner, black branches. "That's your limbic system. It controls emotion, memory, behavioral habits, that kind of thing. They fried it at some point trying to get to your memories, I assume. My team has the photograph from your HYDRA file, the one with the X-ray from your initial brain surgery. I've studied it with my own eyes. That serum in your bloodstream is the only thing that brought you back from being a vegetable. The salvaged notes from the initial facility they kept you in mention months of unresponsiveness and varying levels of brain activity.

"There's a reason you can't remember who you were then, Bucky. They wiped you clean because they knew you, out of all their test subjects, could recover from it. There wasn't enough left of your mind to hold memories, much less any kind of higher will." He hears her clothes shuffle behind him and sees Steve turn his head to look back at her from the corner of his eye. "I'm more than willing to testify to that in any court on Earth, captain. So we're clear."

"Understood," Steve replies, his voice thick. "I appreciate that."

Fuck, so does Bucky. Too bad he can't get his throat to open back up at the moment.

"Now, let's talk about the hard part." He hears Ava sigh. "From what I can see, there's no way we can remove any of this. Not by any standard that I'm willing to entertain, at least."

Bucky shakes his head and tries clearing his throat again. It doesn't feel anywhere near as successful this time around. "That's fine. I don't—I don't think I'd… I wouldn't be ready for that. I just want to know it's not…."

"Capable of being controlled remotely?" she offers when he trails off.

"Yeah. Aside from the code. I don't—that's not a problem. They're dead. Anyone else that had it, I mean." Christ, his foot's going to bounce straight out of his boot, right through the leather.

"I can't make any kind of assurances at this stage when it comes to that. But you have my word that it will be my team's primary focus." Her hand pulls back, and he feels four of her fingertips lightly rest on his shoulder. "I'd prefer to check that connection point they left over your spinal cord before you leave today, but the rest of what we need for diagnostics can wait until another time."

Bucky pulls in a heavy breath through his nose. "Yeah. I'm ready to do that."

"I need to get a few things for it and check in with my team." She taps at the side of the wreath lightly. "You don't have to keep looking at the scan, but you should leave this on while I'm gone so we can get some basic readings."

"You're the boss, doc." He tries not to make it look like he's in a hurry to get the thing out of his hand when he dumps the tablet on his leg.

"I'll be back in just a bit," she tells them, calmly shuffling off into the other half of the office. The glass door hisses loudly as she goes through it, confirming it's a sterile lab. The wall frosts over shortly after with the privacy screen activating.

Neither of them says a word for the first few minutes.

"Well," Steve finally offers up, his voice still as thick as when he thanked the doctor. "There's the confirmation you've been waiting for."

"That's not what that was—"

"Alright, you know what? Fuck you very much, Buck—"

"Fuck me? Fuck me? Yeah, I guess that's how it works now, what with you making alll the fucking calls—"

Steve's finger comes sailing into his face. "This affects more than just—" He stops with a short, muted groan and yanks his hand back to shove through his hair. After a moment, he lets it fall to his thigh in a clenched fist. "You want to sit here blaming yourself for it all, fine. I've got no right to tell you to stop when I'm still doing the exact same thing. But I'm pulling you through this whether," his voice goes high and mocking as he turns to glare a hole into the side of Bucky's head, "yooou like it or not. I let you fall once; I'm not fucking doing it again, asshole."

Bucky stares down a lava lamp sitting on the coffee table for a long, silent moment, his face pinched. He counts the number of wiggling blobs floating from the top to the bottom. He takes in their shared color and picks as close to a stupid paint name for it as possible. One by one, his photographic memory goes down the list of stupid colors from that stupid swatch wall at the stupid art supply store that Steve takes him to when he can't sleep at three in fucking the morning. He decides on fuchsia because it sounds extra stupid. There're twelve in total, they're fuchsia, and his best friend is as stupid as the name of their color.

The anger eventually eases up. "You're the asshole."

Steve sits back in his chair with a sigh. "Love you, too."

It takes a long minute of grinding his teeth for Bucky to force out the question that won't stop echoing in his head. "She doesn't know about the others?"

"She knows there were other attempts, but no, I didn't tell her any of them were successful. I left my notes in her file on what's been held back from her, along with the things she knows that her team doesn't. You can tell her whatever you want; that's up to you. I really think you should read through all of their files."

"Yeah?" Bucky snaps mockingly. "I really think you should kiss my ass."

Steve reaches out to grab one of the magazines from a stack on the coffee table. His posture is resigned and absolutely screaming I know better than you right now, idiot. "You should grow the fuck up."

—

There's no way the notes from HYDRA cover all his surgeries, not with this much framework built up inside his brain.

Steve warned her to expect something like this. The bastards passed Bucky around like a science experiment over the decades. Whenever a station was compromised, all of its records were destroyed to safeguard HYDRA's critical secrets, the work and confirmed existence of the Winter Soldier being one of them. Only a handful were raided by SHEILD efficiently enough to prevent further loss of his medical history. What remains is the scattered works of solitary minds spanned across decades.

In Ava's opinion, not one of those minds should have been granted the mercy of seeing daylight again after their senseless, abhorrent, despicable crimes against the sergeant. Never in her life has she been a violent woman, but given a blunt object and five minutes with the lot of them, she'd have been very tempted to rebalance nature with ruthless gusto.

A hand nudges at her arm, pulling her from her distraction with a quick inhale. "Sorry, repeat that?"

Wyatt's eyebrows pull in sympathetically. "Y'can hand this part off to one of us, boss."

"You can hand it off to him," Hannah interrupts briskly, her eyes never moving from where they're pressed against a microscope.

"Y'can hand it off to me," Wyatt rapidly corrects with a warm smile. He drums his stylus against his arm and leans against the lab's center console. The movable hologram program Tony gifted them is already building detail into one of the darkest acts in human history. Right there, in front of one of the most gentle souls Ava's ever met. The contrast makes her stomach drop. "I mean it; y'know me, I got a real sweet touch. Betch'a the sergeant wouldn't even know I'd been there til it was over."

"Don't make me say it, Combs." Hannah almost sounds bored. The former marine is in a good mood today.

Wyatt doesn't even bother with throwing a quip back at her. He's usually wise enough to know when he's in a losing battle. Reaching out, he gives Ava's shoulder a supportive bump. "You said so yourself; he's alright with meetin' us."

Ava shakes her head, bringing her hand up to rub at the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are stinging hard enough to make them water. She shouldn't have pulled an all-nighter before this; it definitely isn't helping her frustration. "He's okay with it; that doesn't mean he's ready for it. You should see the way he's practically vibrating in that chair. There's not one part of this he isn't forcing himself through. I want to try to limit contact until he feels like he's in control of the space around him."

"That won't take long," Hannah comments quietly, reaching for another slide. "There are certain habits infiltrators don't lose."

"Speakin' from your own experience on that one?" Wyatt asks, curiosity creeping into his tone. Their eternal beacon of southern sunshine has yet to give up chasing details about her, unlike everyone else who visits their little medical corner.

"Infiltrator is not the classification I would have given myself. I was never very subtle in my old line of work."

"Yeah, 'cause subtle's definitely the word I'd pick for your blunt ass now." Wyatt rolls his eyes and extends his hand to rapidly spin the projection of Bucky's brain with the flick of a stubby finger. "Either'a you looked at these trenches much yet? There's different cablin' in every major section. None of it's got a set standard, far as I can tell."

"I don't think he ever had the same doctor for more than two surgeries." Ava leans heavily against the console with a sigh, trying not to let herself venture into the mindset of a terrified soldier. She has to stay detached, or this will eat her alive before they're even halfway done. The enlarged hologram already hurts to look at in more ways than one. "Steve confirmed that HYDRA intermittently lost sections of his records through the years. All of this could be fractured by the decades; we won't know until Paige starts getting a read on the programming behind that main port."

"How do you want us to handle data transfer?" Hannah asks.

"Let's keep this off our internal server as much as we can help it. Tony sectioned off a virtual instance that we can burn when needed, but the only time you should be using that is for his scans. Put everything else on an isolated hard copy here in the lab, wherever you can do it without hindering the work. I want the equipment analysis kept as off-record as possible. I don't want this being recreated. By anyone."

"Definitely agreein' with you on that one, boss." Wyatt pokes his finger into the projection's left frontal lobe, halting its slowing spin. "I know we said extraction ain't the goal here, but I'm gonna be runnin' some sims on that when I've got the time. I don't like the idea of leavin' any'a this shit in, even if we do get it identified and nuked."

Ava nods and reaches up to give his shoulder a warm squeeze. "Let me know what initial paths you route; we can build from there. I doubt he'll be ready for any extensive work for years to come, but the least we can do is present him with some options." She takes a deep breath through her nose as she looks over the port connection on the hologram. "Alright, I'll be back after I finish his consultation."

"Good luck, boss," Wyatt encourages with a smile. "Tell the sergeant we said hi."

She waves her hand over her shoulder with a hum and braces herself to face her latest patient again.

The sergeant himself is sitting just as stiffly as he was when she left, but the captain has moved on to relaxing with a magazine in his hands. They both look up at the sound of the door opening, with a laid-back smile on Steve's face and a forced one on Bucky's. She almost wants to tell him that he doesn't have to make an attempt.

"Sorry for the wait; needed a quick check-in with the brain trust." And to not want to throw something heavy through Tony's fancy glass walls. "They wanted me to pass along their hello's. Dr. Combs, in particular, is very excited to meet you."

Bucky huffs a silent laugh through his nose as she returns to stand at the side of his chair. She doesn't try to move behind him for the moment. "Yeah, I'm sure I'm real—"

"Buck," Steve cuts in softly with a side eye in his best friend's direction.

"Fascinating?" Bucky's eyes lift to Ava's at her teasing guess, and his responding nod is sheepish. She smiles at the attempted manners. "Your case is as interesting as it is horrific, that's for sure. Lucky for you, we're a morbid bunch, so you can go for the gallows humor whenever you want." She taps at Bucky's arm with the pad of her index finger, trying to warm him up to repeat physical contact. "However, I'm pretty sure Wyatt is looking forward to asking for your autograph above everything."

The sergeant's eyebrows rocket toward his hairline. "What's he looking for? Love, The Winter Soldier?"

"Bucky." Steve doesn't even look over this time; he just drops one side of the magazine to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The sight of an exasperated Captain America sitting in her office makes Ava snort loudly. She doesn't miss the way it makes Bucky's lips raise at the corners. "He comes from a long line of history buffs who believe accurate preservation is the best tool to prevent it from repeating. The guy grew up with battle models and field testimonials from every major war. I'm guessing he had some Howling Commando envy as a kid, though he won't own up to that on his end."

"He knows I was one of them for all of five minutes, right?"

"None of us were Howlies for long," Steve forcefully insists, one foot coming over to kick Buckys. "But that doesn't change the good we did while we were."

"It also won't stop him from chewing your ear off about it if you let him." Ava crosses her arms over her chest in amusement. "My advice is to stop him early. Definitely before he starts asking what you remember about the maps. You've got a real Milo Thatch working on your brain now." Bucky looks up at her in confusion. "Haven't gotten around to Disney movies yet? Milo's a character from Atlantis, one of my personal favorites. He and Wyatt share a certain level of academic excitement."

"I'll add it to the watch list." A small smile comes up, making her wonder what his cheeks look like when he really lets it go. "And keep the point of no return in mind."

She stops herself from gushing about the beauty of the art behind the movie, wanting to honor his headfirst approach. "You ready to get the last part of today's visit over with?"

His shoulders rise with another resigned intake, making her want to be ferociously violent toward the closest available Nazi. "I'm ready when you are, doc."

"My go-to hardware specialist built a prototype connector based on the scans Tony got during your initial intake. It's only the first iteration for the sake of data extraction, so be sure to speak up if anything feels off. Anything at all, even if it's just minor discomfort. She can work on changing it for the next build. I'm sure Steve can attest to Paige's efficiency at her job by now."

The slightest hint of a blush comes over the captain's cheeks at the teasing mention of his numerous visits to the engineering department. "Ms. Findley—"

"Does she ask you to call her that?" Bucky jumps on his best friend with immediately. Ava would feel bad about chumming the waters, but the banter is making him relax against the chair.

Steve shuts his mouth momentarily. The blush gets a shade darker before he opens it again. "Paige is a very dedicated worker. And a lovely conversationalist. How do you two know each other? Through Tony?"

Now Ava really does feel bad. She puts a hand on her hip and tries to keep her smile from growing. "No, I'm the one who introduced them. She's been my best friend for about fifteen years now."

Steve freezes, and Bucky's grin takes over the lower half of his face. The sergeant sits all the way back, with shoulders that are perfectly at ease. "Oh, good. If I think of anything later, I can just have Stevie drop it off for me. I'd hate to forget between appointments."

Ava pulls the wireless reader and its port connector from the briefcase on Bucky's chair. She steps up behind him and tries not to let her eyes linger on how his smile lights up his face or how it warms her chest to see. Her free hand comes to rest on his left shoulder, leaving the exit door in his right peripherals. "This shouldn't take more than a few minutes at most. Ready?"

"Hit me." It almost doesn't sound forced.

She lifts his hair and runs her thumb over the port once to brace him for the new sensations before lining up the connector. As she'd explicitly requested of Paige, the mechanism doesn't snap into place when she locks it in, meaning there's no responding vibration to move through his skull. The notes from Bucky's therapist that were passed along didn't mention it, but they hardly mention anything at all. There's a lot he's holding back, there has to be, and she's been trying to preempt as much of it as she can.

Bucky's nails dig into the arm of the chair, and he inhales sharply. After a moment, his fingers start to relax one by one. Ava watches them all, her eyes moving between his hands and neck repeatedly, while the reader begins its data harvest. She gives him long enough to get a few steady breaths in.

"Have you started any animated movie binges?" she prods, wanting to stall for time to get a closer look at his implant. With him letting her hold up his hair like this, it might be her only chance for the foreseeable future.

"Sam's gotten me to sit through a few of his picks," he replies tensely.

"Mmm. I'm guessing Mister Feathers is a Pixar fan."

"I know that's an animation studio, but that's the extent of my expertise on the subject. Are they the ones who made Lilo and Stitch?"

"He did not make you watch that one first."

"He did, but that's technically not my first animated movie. We had them back in the 30s, you know."

"Some of us still call it animation's golden age," Steve mutters in the most crotchety old artist fashion, his eyes back on the magazine in his lap.

"Take a look around this room, Rogers," Ava sasses. "Do I look like someone who'd argue with you about its significance?"

"Point taken."

Her eyebrows pull in while she looks over just how much of Bucky's spinal cord is exposed to outside influence. She knows how far the port runs thanks to the scans, but now she's getting an eyeful of movable hatching and flesh that will never get the proper chance to heal.

"How are you handling the daily care of this?" she asks, running her finger around one edge of the port.

"I do it," Bucky tells her simply.

Her eyes lock on the back of his head in disbelief. "You do… what, exactly?"

"I've got a morning routine for it. Clear the excess buildup, sterilize the whole area, work the skin, that kind of thing."

"You understand that this has direct access to your brainstem, right?"

"I know." He shifts his weight in the chair. "I'm careful."

"I have several medical degrees, one of which is entirely focused on the human brain, and even I would hesitate to approach this on my own body. If anything that can give you so much as a hundred-degree fever touches this, you're dead, Bucky." She lets the hand not holding up his hair come to rest on his shoulder. "I'm not trying to scare you with this, but as your doctor, I need to make sure you understand the severity here. I don't want you doing this yourself anymore; I want you to come to my office for it."

"That's not necessary—"

"What time do you want him here in the mornings?" Steve asks, ignoring Bucky entirely.

"I don't need to come here in the mornings—"

"It doesn't have to be every morning," Ava offers, wanting to give him a compromise. She's definitely not letting him go back to doing it himself. "I can set up a stable cleaning routine every other day whenever you have the time to come in."

"I have it handled, really—"

"I wouldn't push it past three days, though."

"Every other morning," Steve agrees. "That's perfect. JARVIS can keep an eye on the schedules for him."

"I've got working fucking eyeballs," Bucky almost shouts, making Ava and Steve finally let up.

She squeezes her hand on his shoulder, half in apology, half in sympathy. "Yes, you do. But they happen to be in the front of your head. My eyes can see the back of your neck without a mirror, and they've got a decade's worth of disgustingly thorough medical training behind them. You came here because you're ready for this to get done. Now you actually have to let me do it."

Bucky lifts a hand as if he's about to argue but then lowers it with a soft sigh. "Yeah... yeah, alright. But I'm not always going to be here in the mornings—"

"She said it doesn't have to be the mornings," Steve cuts in again.

"You know what I mean, jackass. I'm not always going to be here consistently. I have, you know, a job that you try to boss me around on—"

"We can make sure you've got a trained medic to help—"

"No, Grant."

The words are said softly, and it takes a moment for Ava to even remember that it's the captain's middle name, but something happens in the wake of them. Steve's relentless push stops on a dime, and the fight leaves Bucky's shoulders. The two of them relax marginally, and Steve nods once. "Okay. So, we establish the routine here. Get it ironed out; get you practiced with it. Then I'll clear you for doing it yourself on missions. But if you miss even one while you're here, so help me—"

"I got it, I got it."

Steve watches Bucky with a tightly held expression for another long moment. Then he looks up at Ava with a nod. "He'll be here, and I'll make sure he's not cleared for another mission until you two have a stable routine for taking care of this."

Ava gives Bucky's shoulder another light squeeze. "I promise it'll be quick every time. I'll work with Paige on making you a field kit. In the long run, this shouldn't interrupt your normal day-to-day much at all."

"Appreciate the effort, doc." Bucky gives a soft grunt. "Sorry for the. Y'know. Pushback."

"I think the world owes you a little more than patience as backpay, Sergeant. I'm happy to help where I can."

—

Febuary 19th 2018

"I can handle it if you want me to."

"No. No, I... I can do it."

"You're sure?"

"You think I can't?"

"I think you look like you're about to throw up on my shoes."

"I don't like the idea of... starting off like that."

"That's why I'm offering to do it."

"No. It should be me. There are things you won't be able to explain."

"You can always fill in the blanks when she shows up for Soldat training."

"What a great alternative first impression! Hello, ma'am, not only am I a complete jackass, but I also delegate my role as—"

"You're not delegating; you're assigning the right person to the job. And this takes away the need for you to be a jackass."

"Leaving you to be a confrontational bitch in someone's eyes?"

"What's the issue there?"

"That's not what you are, Nat."

"Says who?"

Steve reaches out to smack the side of her arm. "That's one of my closest friends you're ragging on."

"She can take it." Natasha looks over at him, a bored hike to one brow. "Let's stay focused on what the doctor can take. This won't be like the therapists. We can't put him through multiple doctors on this. We'll only get one or two tries before he draws the hard limit."

He nods, turning his eyes back to the closed elevator doors. "Right. Right, it's for a good reason. I can do it."

"You don't have to. I can handle it."

"I know. But it should be me." He knocks the side of his boot against hers. "Thank you."

"Always. Let me know how it goes."

Natasha's off the elevator before the doors are even finished opening, leaving Steve to collect himself alone. He pushes off the back railing with a heavy sigh. No part of this is going to be easy to stomach. He's accepted that. He exits the elevator with a resigned set to his shoulders.

The medical wing is dark this late into the day. JARVIS already confirmed that the doctor is still in the building. From the AI's reports, she pulls late nights like this regularly. It bodes well for what he'll have to ask of her and her team.

He stops to admire the heavy paint on the outside of the lab's door. There's days worth of work here, clearly a labor of love. It takes until he's admiring the fourth flower of his perusal to notice that it's not all the same artist. He scans it a bit quicker after that, trying to take a guess as to how many different hands took part. His best guess is four.

Accepting that he's been inadvertently stalling, Steve pushes it open roughly. He probably should have expected the onslaught of color in the room from seeing the door. It still hits him hard enough to make him do a double-take through his exaggerated annoyance. The doctor sitting on the other side of a very large desk nearly jumps out of her chair.

"Christ Al-fucking-mighty," she swears, one hand coming up to brace against her chest. Steve gets nailed with a furious glare. "Knock much?"

Well, that's one test passed. "Are you Dr. Ryder?"

"I am. Who the hell wants to—oh." Recognition dawns on her face as Steve gets close enough to be illuminated by her desk light. The fury in her shifts toward indignance. "I happen to hold a lot of respect for you, at least during normal business hours. So, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and let you have a moment to explain yourself, captain."

He almost starts with an apology, but he catches himself in time. "I've been told you're one of the best neurosurgeons we're in contact with—"

"No, you've been told I am the best." She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. Her head inclines toward him. "You can continue."

Steve's reservations about her being able to handle Bucky are leaving rapidly. It almost makes him smile. He holds it together with his best captain voice. "I need your expertise on a consultation. A private consultation. Completely off SHEILD books."

"Am I being roped into the organization's second overhaul?" There's bitterness lingering in her tone. The kind Steve remembers feeling on his own end for months leading up to Fury's near-assassination.

"No. When I say private, I mean private. This isn't under SHIELD purview. I'll be expecting discretion if you think you're up to the case, so we're clear."

The doctor's eyebrows sail up, and her head moves back far enough to hit her chair. "I'll be expecting you to hand over some details before I agree to a damn thing. As a follow-up, you can provide me with an explanation as to why this needed to be done an hour before midnight, with no forewarning and definitely no respect. Otherwise, you can turn your happy ass back around and go find the other neurosurgeons you didn't feel like harassing first."

Damn. He really should have gotten Natasha to do this; she's faster with proper comebacks. "You'll be given information as you need to know it. First, I need to make sure that—"

"First, you can fuck off." Her head shifts to one side as he pauses. "I don't respond well to authority, captain. I'm sure whatever's going on is very important if it's got America's Sweetheart making an ass of himself in the middle of my office on a Monday night. But that's not really my problem. It could be, were I given a reason to care about it."

"Does rectifying war crimes warrant your valuable attention, doctor?" The words feel awful leaving his mouth; she doesn't deserve to get barked at like this. But he needs an honest indication of how she'll react to a bad day.

Ava watches him with a slightly open mouth for more than a few tense moments. Then recognition dawns for a second time, and her eyes roll dramatically. "Oh, for god's sweet sake. You could have just asked if I have experience with PTSD patients. Hell, you were clearly sent by Tony, and I met the man at a veteran's benefit, so you could have asked him. Barnes' presence on the Avenger's roster isn't exactly a secret these days."

Steve holds himself still, then shifts his weight to one foot. "You met at a veteran's benefit?"

She nods slowly, with a bit of mockery behind the motion. "Yes. Almost a decade ago. He funds most of my work with the VA."

That hadn't been included in her resume. He didn't want to invade her privacy by pulling her file until she agreed to it. Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks. Then the anger starts to surface. "You know, I'm not one hundred percent sure I was supposed to know that."

"You think?" The words are bone dry, and her posture is still defensive, but there's a smile working its way up from the corners of her lips.

"Look, I...." Steve raises a hand to the back of his neck sheepishly. "I apologize. I promise it's not about doubting your professionalism—"

"It's about protecting family, yeah, I get it." Her arms don't unfold from her chest. But her eyebrows do come back down.

"He's very important to me. I want to make sure he's in good hands, that's all."

"Well?"

Steve's brows draw in. "I wasn't trying to dump the case on you right now—"

"No, idiot." Her eyes roll again, with much less aggression. "I'm asking if I passed."

"Oh." He nods, his cheeks still feeling far too hot. "With flying colors, so far. There's still a lot more to cover before we get Bucky involved, but. Yes, ma'am. I think you'll handle him just fine."

With a sigh, her arms finally lower. She extends a hand out in his direction. "Ava Ryder. It's very nice to meet you, Captain Rogers."

He takes her hand with a firm shake, inclining his head apologetically. "It's very nice to meet you, as well, doctor. You can call me Steve."

"You can call me Ava. So can James whenever I'm finally graced with his presence."

Yeah. She'll do just fine. "He prefers Bucky. And I'm sure he'll provide you with a much more agreeable first impression. All that can wait until you don't look like you're going to fall asleep on your keyboard, though.

Ava smiles warmly at him, falling back against her chair as she takes back her hand. "I'm looking forward to it. You can send me the details on the case at a reasonable hour to make up for scaring the shit out of me."

"Yes, ma'am." He tips his head respectfully, already backing up from her desk. "Sorry for the scare. And for being so disrespectful. He really is—"

"Important to you." She waves her hand dismissively before reaching up to push at her glasses. "I get it, don't worry. I'd be twice as much of a wreck in your shoes. You're doing fine."

Sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, there are benefits to having the worst moments of his life in the history books. "I appreciate that, thank you. You have a good rest of your night, ma'am. I'll send—I'll have JARVIS send you his file—"

"Captain Rogers is unaware of how to forward SHEILD files, doctor," the AI cuts in gleefully.

"I had my suspicions, JARVIS; thanks." She waves her hand again, this time in goodbye, as she looks back at her computer screen. "Please don't trip on my carpet and bust your ass on the way out of my office."

Steve pointedly turns on his heel, glad for the excuse to hide his burning face. He all but races to the door. "I'll be in contact, doc."

"Mhmm."

When he pulls open the painted door, he's almost unsurprised to find Natasha leaning against the other side of the hallway. She doesn't move at all, but one side of her mouth lifts in a smirk.

Steve lets the door shut softly behind him before cocking his head to the side. "Very cute. You two in on it together?"

"No, but sniffing out Tony's bait didn't take long. You'd have noticed, too, if you weren't so far up Bucky's ass." Her head tilts in the opposite direction as his. "Feel better?"

He straightens up with a nod. The motion feels confident. "Much."

—author's end notes, yoinked straight from ao3—

“what’s paige like?” well. to put it simply. she is every last ounce of karma that steve has earned by lovingly terrorizing his best friend 😌

i feel like the overall theme got covered enough with this to tell if the plot is for you or not. flirting starts next, but isn't super blatant until chap 4. i am in zero rush and will have no problem with dedicating an entire chap to cuddling tbh, this is a comfort project im in for the long haul. check back later for * to get full smut taste, current (possibly changing) map has it in chap 9. OR you can check back for kinktober, i have all 31 days outlined for these idiots. i need starfield to be good so i can do smut for that too, bethesda pls

keep in mind this will get sci-fi weird at times, and loosely ref/revolve around greek myth tropes bc iiiii like ‘em ❤️ im a fandom ancient who takes no issue with cleaning out the dickhead comments 😌 also i might edit shit. im still not clear on what ao3 will email about a bookmark (god willing its not edits that dont include a new chapter) but just in case i figured id warn for anyone who doesn't want email spam

im gonna try to keep ava and paige as vague as possible, aside from a few scattered physical details so i have SOMETHING to write. my favorite bucky fic in existence is a reader!fic (safe with me is Ungodly levels of good, and i dont just say that as a fellow west wing addict. i constantly forget that his apartment in it isn't actually canon and there're no m&ms hiding for eternity somewhere) so you wont get any judgment from me on replacing both of them right down to their names, that’s how im writing them!! it just feels unfair to tag it a reader fic with them being given SUCH a heavy “presence" i guess

main pov's (the undated ones) will always flip between bucky and ava. the dated ones are other characters pov's OOOOOOR its a flashback in which case it could be the two of them, but ill always try to make it clear whose headspace is focused up front, so i dont think ive set up a hurdle there

thanks for reading ❤️ i love and appreciate feedback immensely ❤️ feeds the brain chemicals 😌 no worries abt spoilers, i feel like anyone looking there knows what theyre risking lmao

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #chapter update #man the way thats going to be the extend of effort i have when it comes to promoing this damn thing #truly astonishing how little fandom energy i have lmao #i sure as shit aint taggin the other ones with anything but my sorting tags lmao #i do not have the Energy #good space

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anika-ann · 2 years ago

Text

The MESS. That's what I call subtle genuis 😂

And oh the debate on whetehr Gold Steve should go is delicious - and it makes SENSE. Tony's drama is hilarious (“Why are you asking him? I’m your boss!”) but hooo boy the thing it results in 🥹😏

*inrest an image of me losing my sanity over the fact Steve hold her hand for a bit*

Three inches under his ass is a gap in the fabric wide enough to show a swathe of muscular thigh.

...that's n image that will haunt me 😂👀

“Steve, I promise you, your other universe counterpart didn’t come in here to have me help him take your clothes off, okay?”

...and I bet this ill haunt 'Dine and Steve 🤣 subtle genius back at it again.

Before you can say anything, though, Steve heads for the door, pausing once he’s got it open to say, “Flustered looks good on you.”

Oh. And we ending with charming little shit Steve.

My heart ✨

Just Right | Ch 3

(Steve Rogers x F!Reader, post-Ultron Multichapter)

Summary:

You’ve been in love with Steve Rogers for at least a year, but he treats you the same way he treats every other member of the team– with respect, but nothing more. It takes an inter-dimensional mistake and a whole second, more assertive, actually interested Steve for you to realize that you don’t want just any version of Steve Rogers– you want the one you’ve been pining for all this time.

Length: 3,119

FIC MASTERLIST | LAST CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Dedicated to @ronearoundblindly who is the bestest! This story will be I THINK about 5 chapters, but don't pelt me with chickens if I'm wrong please!

Excerpt:

“What if it were you, Tony? Would you accept staying home and ‘out of the way’ if you could help? Or would you be threatening to fly there yourself?”

It’s Steve’s voice, but the context tells you it’s Gold Steve.

“You want to waste all the time I’ve been spending inventing a dimensional portal? Your me already has one! I’m not interested in being invaded by a pissier other self who’s raring to kick my ass for losing you.”

“If it’s not safe for me, it’s not safe for him,” Gold Steve points out.

An almost identical voice responds directly afterward. “It’s plenty safe.” There’s more talk, but you need to pay attention to your own intense little meeting, so you refocus on that.

“Hey, Brigandine, you wanna c’mere for a sec?” Stark calls out, right as you’re following the others out the door.

“Go on, plan for an extra person,” you whisper to Aeronautics, and turn around. Multiple Avengers are looking at you expectantly. “No, no, and no,” you groan, taking in Stark’s stubborn expression. “You’re making me the tiebreaker, aren’t you? No.”

“It’s in your contract,” he says with the supreme confidence of a person who knows there’s no time to check his facts.

Chapter Three

You’re trying to figure out how to dodge Gold Steve’s question and reconcile your mix-up of the two Steves when an alarm goes off.

The alarm.

It’s a call to assemble, telling everyone in earshot something’s happened that some or all of the Avengers can help with. That it’s happening at all is a compromise with Secretary Ross, the culmination of a month-long excruciating negotiation that allowed Steve and Natasha to stay out of jail, that lets Clint be a part-time Avenger and not have to choose between his family and heroism (though if he knew you were even thinking of it that way, he’d punch you in the shoulder. Hard), and loosely soothed the gaping wounds between the team, for the greater good.

Basically, the Avengers have an uneasy truce with the governments of the world, and you’re grateful for it-- but this is the first time that alarm has gone off since that agreement, the Modified, Extended Sokovian Settlement, as Tony calls it. The MESS.

You whip the towel off of your head and see that Gold Steve’s alert and concerned. Everyone else at the compound will know what to do, you’ve all trained for it. Everyone but Gold Steve.

Swearing under your breath, you grab his arm and head to the door, scanning your badge to open it.

“There’s not a silence protocol that goes along with that, is there?” he whispers as he follows you through multiple corridors to a second door.

“Nope.” You reach the building with the gathering point, and the two of you wait in the line to go inside.

“Technically, we could get in faster if I picked you up and speedran to the back door,” Gold Steve muses. Out loud. Where other people around you hear it and turn to look at the two of you.

“Funny,” you say tersely, hoping the turbulent terror in your stomach isn’t outwardly visible.

The MESS protocol designates each employee a level, and your meeting point depends on that level. Your level happens to be the highest there is, with the actual team, so you’re prepared for the feeling of unreality when you walk in there and see all the Avengers who are currently on-campus arrayed around the table. What you didn’t expect is for you and Gold Steve to be the last through the door, meaning all eyes are on the two of you as he pulls out a chair for you and finds a seat of his own.

As one of the high-level support team, you and a few others need to be present for the decision making, which made sense to you when reading the documents but now that you’re in the room, is both cool and intimidating. You’ve gotten to know most of the Avengers on a personal, friendly level, but individually, as they’ve met with you about their gear, but this? This is different. This is serious. You feel incredibly out of place.

You fix your gaze to the table as you hear some of the others in the room greeting Gold Steve before Maria Hill starts the breakdown of what’s happened.

It’s bad. In a combination of a radioactive event and possible HYDRA activity, local authorities in Romania have detected high levels of Cesium-137 in an abandoned factory that’s been doubling as a junkyard for years. They’ve contacted the Nuclear Regulatory Commission for assistance, who are already on site. The underground complex they found on the site wired for electricity has set off alarm bells, and, well. Why overspend your containment budget when there’s a group of people who can take those risks for you? A group that desperately needs a win?

You’ve been sneaking glances at Gold Steve, feeling conflicted and guilty. There’s no way he would have wanted to be left out, but if this exists in your universe, does that mean your meeting reveals its existence to him prematurely? Assuming, of course, that he gets to go back.

“First, let me address the elephant in the room,” Stark is saying, gesturing towards Gold Steve. “I can see you making manfully conflicted expressions over there, but I don’t think anyone here doubts you would have made your way into this meeting as soon as you found out about it.” There’s some murmuring and many nods. “Frankly, I can’t bring myself to feel guilty if the first thing you do when I send you back home is show up at this place and mete out some justice.”

You look around the room, trying to get a sense of the general consensus. In the process, you catch the eye of your Steve, who was already looking at you. You offer him a smile, and he returns it, shifting his gaze away quickly.

After twenty minutes of debate, the group decides to send a team. Though Clint’s recon skills would be an asset on this one, he’s back in Missouri and this is time-sensitive, so they settle on Tony, Natasha, Sam, and Steve. Support staff is to immediately report to workstations to prep all equipment needed, so as soon as Hill calls an end to the meeting, you get up and head over to your colleagues.

As the group of you confer for a few seconds about your own timeline (everything needs to be ready before the firm head-out), you can hear an intense conversation happening back at the table.

“What if it were you, Tony? Would you accept staying home and ‘out of the way’ if you could help? Or would you be threatening to fly there yourself?”

It’s Steve’s voice, but the context tells you it’s Gold Steve.

“If it’s not safe for me, it’s not safe for him,” Gold Steve points out.

An almost identical voice responds directly afterward. “It’s plenty safe.” There’s more talk, but you need to pay attention to your own intense little meeting, so you refocus on that.

“Hey, Brigandine, you wanna c’mere for a sec?” Stark calls out, right as you’re following the others out the door.

“It’s in your contract,” he says with the supreme confidence of a person who knows there’s no time to check his facts.

You glare at him. “Okay, but don’t tell me who’s on what side. Steve?”

Gold Steve smiles and looks away, obviously knowing you aren’t referring to him. Your Steve looks at him, then at you, before he says, “Yes?”

“Do you think he should go?” It would just waste precious time to make them tell you the stuff you already overheard.

“Why are you asking him? I’m your boss!”

You’re so determined to explain yourself you forget everything else. “Because Steve’s the one with the most at stake, here, Stark. It’s Steve who’s focused on the team as a whole, Steve who always has everyone’s locations in mind, Steve who’s constantly running calculations in his head about whether what you’re about to do might put someone in danger!” You point somewhere behind you, picturing the other universe out there that’s missing their version of Steve Rogers. “And it’ll be Steve who feels the worst about it if he doesn’t bring himself back home, because every single person back there who is missing him feels guilty that they can’t just set off an assemble alarm to go get him back!”

Stark says a sullen, “Yeah, okay,” but the rest of the room is dead silent. Your throat hurts, which means you were yelling, and there’s zero fucking chance you’re going to look up at anyone to see if they’re showing expressions of dawning comprehension, because that? That was pretty damned revealing, right there.

“I need to go set up an extra set of gear,” you say in an admirably calm voice as you turn on your heel and walk swiftly toward the door. Once through, you rush.

Because you’ve done your job right, no one has to come pick up anything they’re missing for the mission, because it’s all at their ‘muster station’ in the armory. No one but Gold Steve, that is. When he shows up, you’ve already delivered some backup items for the Quinjet, and are running back through Steve’s checklist to ensure there’s a copy of everything for his copy.

“Thanks for that,” he says when he walks up, a clear look of admiration in his eyes.

You’re all business. “All right, this is the alternate to Steve’s usual uniform. It used to be the primary, but he ripped it a little while back doing an event with some first responders, and I had it in for repairs. Truth is, I haven’t done the whole round of testing to make sure it’s got the right integrity to go back in--”

“I’m sure it’s fine, I don’t need a run-down. I trust you.”

“That’s good, because the upshot to Stark making me a symbolic tiebreaker is I’m gonna feel responsible if anything does happen,” you sigh, avoiding Gold Steve’s eyes by packing up his things so he can get going.

The door opens behind him, but you don’t see who it is before he replies with, “I wish the guy in charge of our gear back home was half as diligent as you are. You should give yourself a break.”

Beside him, your Steve walks up, shooting a look between the two of you. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks. Given Gold Steve’s Serious Eyebrows and the way you’re wringing your hands, you suppose it’s a reasonable question, but it sends your stomach through a trapeze routine that tangles up your tongue, as well.

“She’s stressing out about the suit you’re graciously lending me,” Gold Steve answers smoothly. “Said something about not sending it through all the testing protocols, but--”

Steve reaches over for it, holding it up with a critical eye. “I don’t even remember where it ripped, ‘Dine, I’m sure it’s fine. Thanks for being careful, though.” You get the feeling that he was only looking it over to reassure you, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture warms your heart. “You’d better get moving, wheels up in fifteen,” he tells Gold Steve.

The two men nod respectfully at each other, and once Gold Steve has left, you take stock of your workspace, just in case you forgot anything. Satisfied you haven’t, you start toward the lockers to check over there.

“Wait, ‘Dine--”

Steve catches your hand. He catches your wrist first, actually, but your momentum carries the gesture through to your hand. It’s as close to a caress as you’ve ever felt from him, and you suck in a shocked, delighted breath, freezing in place for a few seconds.

“Yes?” Your voice is breathy, and you feel hot embarrassment thick in your throat.

He doesn’t let go. “Can I talk to you later? When I get back?”

You can’t not look at him now, so you do, nodding as you turn your head, totally normal, your besotted heart isn’t doing cartwheels in your chest or anything. As you thought he might, once you make eye contact, Steve lets go, but it’s gentle, a pulling away, again like a wanted touch.

“Okay, then,” he says awkwardly, flashing you a brilliant smile before turning and jogging away.

Minutes later, you’re still bemused, repeating tasks, distracted. “Okay, maybe this was why there were fainting couches. Not because our predecessors were weak and flighty, but because they needed a minute to collect themselves. Things were too expensive back then to screw them up with your head in the clouds!” you mutter to yourself.

It’s late evening. The team’s expected to stay overnight tonight, and you’re in the ‘rec room’ area waiting for news. The tv is on, and Wanda’s showing Vision one of her favorite episodes of a vintage show. You’d seen the weapons master Carl pass through at one point, but you don’t know where he is now. You’re at one of the computer desks poring over a scan of some old SSR documents, trying to calm your mind so you can sleep tonight.

“Is that Howard Stark’s handwriting?” Vision asks from behind you.

“Yeah, good catch!” you say, sharing a wry look with him. He’d probably recognize a lot of more obscure people’s handwriting, but it’s the thought that counts. “I like to go over his notes sometimes. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

“Yes, I imagine certain observations would be already documented,” Vision agrees. You feel his hand light on the back of your computer chair as he steps closer. “‘Rates of Metabolic Healing After Exposure to Low-Level Ionizing Radiation in Subject Rogers, Stephen Grant,’” he reads aloud. “Ah.”

There’s an uncomfortable level of understanding in that single word, and it makes you want to note that Wanda Maximoff probably didn’t need to drift quite so close to him as she walked past on her way to the restroom. That would be unkind, however, and there’s a non-zero chance that Vision might genuinely not understand you if you did try to rib him about it.

You go with, “Yes. ‘Ah.’”

“I hope you find the peace of mind you’re seeking,” Vision says quietly before walking away.

In your head, you answer, Me too, Viz. Me too.

They come back three days later, arriving in early morning New York time after having left Romania in the afternoon. You’re already at work when one of the Steves comes in wearing the full kit, clearly having come directly from the Quinjet. Your heart does a dull, frightened flip-flop when you realize you literally cannot tell the two of them apart anymore. Not since they’ve both favored you with a look of warm appreciation that sent your whole body into shivers.

“I owe you an apology,” this Steve says, turning around with a blush-cheeked wince. Three inches under his ass is a gap in the fabric wide enough to show a swathe of muscular thigh. “Good news is it gave way when I got antsy to get out of there, mid-leap onto the Quinjet. I came here because I don’t want to make it worse, trying to take it off without speaking to you first.”

You’re not picturing that.

You’re not.

Not.

“Thoughtful of you,” you say, rushing to add, because your tone could be described as caustic, “Not mad at you, I promise. I took a risk with this fabric. It doesn’t really repair, which is why I’d hesitated putting it back into rotation. Might be back to the drawing board for materials.”

He’s still basically presenting his ass, looking over his shoulder to say, “So no problem if it gets worse taking it off, then?”

“None at all."

“Got it. Thanks!” Gold Steve says, leaving without pressing you for further conversation. You try not to take it personally-- he’s got a hole in his pants, after all. Still, every time you talk to him, you feel like you get a little glimpse of what it might be like if you and your universe’s version of Steve ever felt more comfortable with each other. It’s like a hopeful little time machine. Future Steve, almost.

That would, of course, require Now Steve to do something more than just look at you like you’re someone special that one time.

And grab your hand.

Say he’d like to talk to you when--

“Brigandine!”

You startle out of your lovesick reverie to see Steve standing in front of you in regular clothes. He looks full-on exasperated, and you stammer out an apology.

“I’m sorry, I-- honestly, the other Steve was in here and the uniform ripped again, meaning I’m going to need new fabric, if it won’t repair, and--”

“He was in here already?”

Crystalline regret precipitates from every blood vessel as you see actual disappointment in Steve’s eyes, and maybe something else. You don’t dare speculate on what it is, not when your careless words may have implied there was more to Gold Steve’s chair-pulling than mere politeness. Your frantic thoughts are racing faster than the horse second in line at Preakness. Is this Steve’s typical gallant leadership, defensive of ‘his’ team at the imposition of a stranger? Would he react that way when the stranger is himself?

Your innate truthfulness proceeds to make everything worse.

“He didn’t know how to take it off without making it worse, and since it’s yours-- ”

Steve actually starts pacing around away from you, and you have a split second of confusion as you go back over your words before you realize.

“Steve, I promise you, your other universe counterpart didn’t come in here to have me help him take your clothes off, okay?”

“Well, when you put it like that--”

“Oh my God, Tony’s got a recording of me saying that!” You slump into your seat, throw your arms down on it, and bury your head onto them, entirely embarrassed. You’re both terrified and elated at the idea that Steve might be in any way jealous of Gold Steve’s influence on you, mostly because of what that might mean about his own feelings. There’s nowhere to run to, no way to go back to the way things were before, and the yawning chasm of what ifs ahead scares the hell out of you.

“Somehow this whole visit got turned around,” Steve says. You let out a little noise of distress, and he chuckles. “How about a redo? Lunchtime?”

“You’re on, but my face is puffy and I’m hiding from Tony’s all-seeing eye,” you say with your head still buried, popping him a thumbs up.

“I can have a talk with FRIDAY if you want me to?”

His tone is so gentle that you sit up, desperate to know what his expression could be. Steve’s eyebrows are lifted, his head tipped to the side with a slight smile that grows broader on seeing you lift your head. If these subdued reactions are enough to intoxicate you, how on Earth would you survive anything stronger?

Before you can say anything, though, Steve heads for the door, pausing once he’s got it open to say, “Flustered looks good on you.”

He leaves without looking back.

Next chapter...

#r #steve rogers x reader

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