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sundrownsthehouse · 6 months

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Can you read my mind? I've been watching you (Part I of III)

Find it here on AO3 (I much prefer the formatting there)

Pairing: Matty/George

Summary: Matty's bored. He decides to make it everyone's problem.

(AKA a fic about that unhinged video of Matty gagging on his own fingers.)

Words: ~2k

Rating: E

Matty was bored.

Supremely, mind-numbingly bored. The kind of bored that had him antsy, doom scrolling through his socials, picking at his clothes, and bouncing his legs, unable to sit still— that had him searching for any kind of stimulation. It was the kind of bored that tended to drive him to irritate the fuck out of everyone else in his immediate vicinity. For all the years he’d spent touring the world, he had never quite figured out how to pass the time during a flight if he wasn’t throwing back Ativan like tic tiacs.

Those were the days, he thought grimly.

Shifting uncomfortably in the reclined leather seat, Matty craned his neck to peek at the others. From the dim glow of the track lights running down the center aisle of the plane he could just make out their sleeping forms bundled in thin, threadbare blankets. They’d been going non-stop, and their schedule was so tight that the red-eye was probably the only opportunity any of them would have to get some rest before they were whisked off to the next show. Luckily, Jamie had managed to book a long-hauler equipped with sleeper seats, not that it was doing Matty any good. He eyed Adam snoring peacefully into his pillow across the aisle with envy; if fucking only. Checking the time on his phone he sighed aloud, running a hand down his face. They had hours to go before they landed in Honolulu, and Matty simply could. Not. Sit. Still.

He was on edge, and truthfully, rather miffed. George had rejected every advance he’d made in the last 48 hours, and it was driving him to distraction.

This thing they had between them was still new, still undefined, but God, if it wasn’t all Matty could think about. It had started out innocently enough— a clumsy, tequila-induced fumble after a show a few weeks back— but from there quickly spiraled into the two of them sneaking around, unable to stop themselves from crashing into each other over and over (and over) again. Sex with George was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. There was something profound about it, something deeply intimate and dirty and right and—

Matty exhaled shakily, vision softening as his mind wandered back to the hotel room in Chicago. The tactile memory of George’s massive hands all over his body— gripping his hair, stroking his sweat-slick skin, squeezing his cock— evoked a sharp flash of desire that surged through his chest and settled low in his groin. He bit the inside of his cheek remembering the way George had fucked him into the mattress, thrusting so deep inside him that he’d seen stars as tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of his eyes.

So he was a little infatuated; sue him. He couldn’t help it if now that he’d had a taste, he could never get enough. And as far as Matty was concerned, they had decades of catching up to do.

George was cautious; he didn’t want anyone to know just yet, and went to great lengths to cover their tracks, intent on remaining inconspicuous. Whatever this development in their relationship was, it would surely have an effect on the band. On the music. Maybe. They weren’t quite sure what it all meant yet, so he didn’t want to broach the subject with the others unless they had to— and that was just the kind of reasonable, level-headed logic that Matty couldn’t be arsed with.

A small movement from the corner of Matty’s eye caught his attention. Two rows down and across the aisle, one of the blanketed heaps— the largest— shifted and turned on its side, searching in vain for a more comfortable position.

He really couldn’t help himself.

M: you up?

Nestled back in his seat, he watched the blue light of George’s phone silently illuminate the ceiling of the plane. The reply came immediately:

G: no

Matty smirked. George was protective of his sleep, and a mardy fucker if you dared disturb him, but that was a chance he was willing to take— damn the consequences. He took another cursory glance around the cabin.

M: meet me in the bathroom? G: why would i meet you in the bathroom? M: everyone’s asleep…

Matty popped his head into the aisle to spy George sitting up, blanket shrugged off his chest, his fingers flying across the screen.

G: you’re joking M: not G: are you mental?? M: obviously ;)

He thought he could make out the faint sound of George snorting over the steady thrum of the plane, but he couldn’t be sure. His phone vibrated.

G: thanks but no thanks love x

Matty frowned.

Not here. Not now. That was all George had to say to him for the last two days. They were booked tight with back-to-back shows, and when they weren’t traveling or performing they were inundated with endless press, leaving precious little downtime— which would’ve been just fine had George been capable of keeping his hands to himself.

Whether it was an innocently placed hand on the small of his back, an arm slung around his neck, or a teasing brush against the curve of his arse, George took every opportunity to rile Matty up, smirking with satisfaction whenever he managed to make him stutter or lose his train of thought. They’d always been physically affectionate, but it was undeniably different now; there was something like ownership in George’s touch, and it made Matty shiver. Not to mention the way that George looked at him when he thought no one would notice. Matty’s knees went weak each time he caught George’s heated gaze raking lazily over his body from across the room. He looked at Matty as though he were something indecent.

The unspoken tension between them had grown so unbearable that on more than one occasion, Matty had dragged him toward an empty closet or dressing room out of sheer desperation, only to be met with the same measured response:

Not here. Not now. Be patient.

Matty was sick of being patient. He wanted George to shove him up against the wall of the dodgy airplane bathroom already and fuck him until he couldn’t see straight. Dignity be damned.

The drive to the airport was the final straw. In the dark back seat of the Sprinter Matty held his breath in silent shock as George’s hand crept up his inner thigh to slowly massage his cock through his jeans, like a horny fucking teenager. He had to bite his tongue (literally) to keep from making some horribly pathetic sound whilst George carried on a full conversation with Adam and Ross, the passing street lights illuminating the small smile ghosting his lips. It was torture. George was playing with him, seemed to be doing everything in his power to make Matty’s life hell, and to top it all off, he was enjoying it.

For all his kumbaya, inner peace, yoga-loving-meditation bullshit, George was a control freak. It was in the way he would obsess over a piece of music until it was perfect, bending pitch and beat and melody to his whim until it pleased him. It was the subtle change in his demeanor when he was behind the kit in a live show, driving the pace of the entire performance, knowing that the fate of it all rests with him. And it was never more obvious than when they were tangled together, their bodies flushed with exertion as they gave in to twenty-odd years of repressed desire. George was sweet, kind, and deeply tender; he was also impatient, possessive, and exacting. He hid it well, but beneath his placid smile and gentle bearing, there was a quiet hunger in George that demanded to be fed. Matty found himself utterly intoxicated by the contradiction of it.

Though Matty reckoned that he at least gave as good as he got; figuring out how to provoke George had very recently become his latest obsession. Maybe it stemmed from the boyish competitiveness of their school years, some childhood dynamic they never really outgrew as men. In any case, knowing how to turn George on was its own kind of power. Besides, he’d never been too proud to beg.

M: please. need you. M: i’m desperate ok? M: i’ll be so quiet, no one will know M: pleasepleaseplease

A minute passed. No response.

Dejected, Matty peeked down the aisle and nearly jumped out of his skin. George was staring back at him, his expression carefully composed, dark eyes glittering with an unspoken warning in the low light. He merely shook his head once, subtly, but the message was loud and clear. No.

Gritting his teeth, Matty flung himself back in his seat like a petulant child. He checked the time again, running through the math in his head; they still had six hours to go before they landed in Hawaii. He was going to lose his mind on this aluminum death trap hurdling through the sky, and he was going to make it everyone’s problem.

With that thought a ridiculous idea crossed his mind. It was impulsive, completely outrageous, even for him— and that really was saying something— but the more Matty considered it, the more amusing it became. It was a little out of pocket, sure, but then again, that was sort of his brand these days, wasn’t it? He lifted his phone, opened his front-facing camera, and pressed record.

Peering at the screen, he reckoned that he didn’t look half-bad. Clearly tired and a little ragged, but in a sexy, disheveled sort of way. His hair was a nightmare, and he briefly tried to fix it before accepting that it was probably futile, giving up entirely. That wasn’t the point, anyway. Staring down the lens with heavy, hooded eyes, Matty let his mouth fall open gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, embracing the thrill of arousal that snaked up his spine from the boldness of what he was about to do.

Before he could talk himself out of it he opened wider, guiding three of his fingers back, back, back until they filled his mouth to the middle knuckle, forcing him to breathe through his nose. He pressed down on his tongue ever so slightly, reveling in the feeling— it was probably the cigarettes, but he’d always had a bit of an oral fixation. The fullness made him think about George’s cock, thick and heavy, stretching him to his limit because George was big, and fuck if Matty didn’t love the way he made his jaw ache. He shuddered, eyes rolling back as he lost himself to the image of George standing over him, a tight fist in his hair, groaning at the silky heat of Matty’s mouth. Spurred on by the fantasy, Matty shoved his hand further until his eyes began to water, brow furrowing at the intrusion.

When the tip of his middle finger brushed the back of his throat he gagged harshly, jerking in his seat; the sudden movement made him groan. He didn’t particularly care if anyone could hear it.

Chest heaving from the effort, Matty removed his wet fingers from mouth, saliva dragging across his chin. He stopped the video. Watched it back. Turned the sound off and added some heavy track with a slamming beat and a grungy guitar.

And hit post.

The plane shook as it passed through an air pocket. Matty gripped the armrests of his seat, uneasy, his heart hammering in his chest. It had little to do with the turbulence.

In the moment, the video seemed like a good idea; now, he wasn’t so sure. Could he get canceled for this? He wanted to scoff at the thought, but a tiny seed of doubt had taken hold in the back of his mind as the notifications continued to roll in at a relentless pace. Most of them were inconsequential. Only one actually mattered.

Seen by bedforddanes75

#the 1975 #matty healy #george daniel #matty x george #george daniel fic #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #adam hann #cyrmm #I wasn't going to post this yet #but I really feel I need to so I stop editing it #I'm sorry I'm so slow #but I'm actually very proud of this and the next part #and I'd love to hear if anyone enjoys it #gatty

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henrybly · 4 months

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Things had been tense since they’d touched down in Atlanta. As luxurious as the private jet had been (even with Bly money, Henry had never traveled like that before), the wi-fi had been spotty at best, their phones going haywire and pinging with Instagram notifications as soon as they were no longer in the air. He already had a pretty good idea of what everyone had to say with regards to Poppy’s latest Instagram post, and couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on Diego as the other man checked his phone.

His stomach had dropped as soon as he saw the colour drain from Diego’s face. He knew Poppy hadn’t meant any harm by the photo, and maybe if he’d only known Diego Rodriguez for a few weeks, then he wouldn’t have understood what the big deal was. But he was fully aware of why Diego’s face was a mask of poorly-concealed horror right now.

“Diego,” he started towards him, shivering a little on the airport tarmac with only his hoodie to keep him warm. But then their manager was bustling them into two separate cars, Diego getting shoved into the back of one with Harper and Michael, meaning he got to sit with Poppy in the one that drove behind.

“Pops,” he said, trying to broach the subject as delicately as he could. He rarely ever beat around the bush, even with situations as fragile as this one, forever sure of his step. But right now it felt like he was walking through a minefield. He didn’t know how much Poppy knew about what went on between him and Diego and how their dynamic had shifted in the past few weeks. He’d spent more time in Diego’s bed than anywhere else recently, which would have been nice if he didn’t know the other man was beating himself up about it whenever Henry left. And now, there was a picture of them cuddling on the internet. Something that wouldn’t have been so compromising to Diego if Poppy had taken Henry’s place in the photo.

He cast his mind back to the time Valentina had uploaded photos from her 25th birthday party on Facebook, photo after photo of his sister and her friends enjoying themselves on her feed. He hadn’t been searching the background for anything incriminating, but evidently Stefan had. His phone had blown up with anxious demands that Val delete a certain photo. Honestly, Henry hadn’t known what Stefan was talking about until the other man had sent him a screenshot, revealing a picture of Valentina and her friend, Ariadne, arms slung around each other as they posed for the camera. Still unable to see what was so wrong with that, he zoomed in on the background, realising that the photographer had managed to capture him and Stefan as well, doing nothing except sitting side by side and laughing, except Stefan had his face pressed into Henry’s neck. Again, nothing that Henry had thought people would read into but Stefan had been hysterical.

He remembered marching into Val’s bedroom without knocking, something he had never done before, not because it was some written Bly rule, but just out of respect. He’d told Val, bluntly enough, that she had to delete the photo. His sister had been confused, but brought the photo up anyway. He’d never forget the look that she gave him, a mix of concern and pity as she finally deleted it from the album, and they never spoke about it again.

He had been direct in his approach with Valentina. But he didn’t want to make such a demand from Poppy. He really didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Poppy, I think maybe you should delete that photo,” he said, quietly. “A lot of the fans are running wild with rumours and you know Diego hates that stuff. Plus, we should probably give the PR team a break until after the New Year.”

It was a feeble joke that he’d added on, but it did nothing to wipe the confused look from Poppy’s face. Still, they’d already pulled up outside the venue and he quickly reached over to squeeze her hand.

“Please,” he begged, before quickly getting out of the car and jogging to catch up with Diego.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, when he reached the man. He couldn’t help but wince when he caught the tail-end of the Diego’s conversation with Harper, who was loudly insisting that was not me sleeping next to Henry!

#thread: diego2 #diego

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fangirlshrewt97 · 2 years

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Tale As Old As Time... (Part 8)

Well, I won’t delay too much with the intro because I know so many of you were annoyed with me about that cliffhanger yesterday.

Before we go to the story, let me just add in the links for an art piece by @burningsheepcrown and some incredible graphics + logo? for the story by @teddybat24 which can be found here.

Also, special shout out to @stuckyandlarrystuff, hope this lives up to the idea in your head.

Full work Ao3 link.

(Previous Chapter) (Next chapter)

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“Hold my arm when we are entering the temple Bhairava garu. We are entering separate from the palace procession, the crowd will be thick, and easy to get lost in.” Tapan yelled into Bhairava’s ears as they made their way through the streets. The sun was about to set, but the city was alight with lamps and people, children running and laughing in all directions. They even passed a small stage where a group of teenagers had been playing out a scene from the Ramayana.

Bhairava looked on in wonder at how much joy seemed to be suffusing the air. As instructed, Bhairava hooked his arm into Tapan’s as they neared the temple, the crowd growing in number till Bhairava felt a little suffocated. He worried for a moment at the thought of how much expensive jewellery he was wearing but Tapan said that tonight there would be so much else to focus on, as well as so many more guards, nothing would happen.

Tapan managed to elbow his way to the front of the crowd though, letting Bhairava exhale a full breath.

Immediately, Bhairava’s breath caught instead at the sight of the King. Standing near the edge of the central shrine’s walkway, he was able to see King Raavana clearly. The man was just sitting there with his eyes closed, but he still exuded so much power. And his clothes. Rather than the customary black kurta and pants Bhairava had always seen him in, the silver jewellery and accents against his dark skin glowed like stars. He looked like the night sky taken human form. And that moon broach on the black turban…maybe he wasn’t the night sky so much as Mahadev himself, wearing the crescent moon in his hair.

Bhairava tried to focus on praying, but kept getting distracted by the King and the intense focus in his eyes that Bhairava could make out even from this distance. When the abhishekam finished, Tapan pulled Bhairava back through the crowd till they were in the outer edge. At one point Bhairava hissed as someone stepped on his foot, nearly falling. Tapan caught him though and hauled him till they were safely out of the crowd pressing inward.

“Are you alright, Bhairava garu?”

“My foot is a little sore, but I’m alright otherwise. You?”

Tapan huffed a laugh as he scratched his neck. “I have gotten so accustomed to being with the other palace guards, I guess I forgot how much getting stuck in big crowds like this feels.”

Bhairava smiled. “I agree. It has been a long time since I was able to attend any temple function.”

“What did you think?”

Before Bhairava could respond though, the crowd started to grow quieter. Bhairava looked around to see what could have caused the change, doing a double take when he saw the advisor, Kaaka garu? Addressing the crowd.

“What is he doing?”

“Oh, every month Kaaka garu gives a brief update about some of the major deals that have been made to the public. King Raavana insisted that only by being honest with the public, trust could be forged.”

A simple admission, but Bhairava felt his world shaken again. Every new piece of information just made the enigma around the King grow. Bhairava itched to unravel it all. He had never heard of any king ever having done such things.

The crowd’s noise grew and fell again and Bhairava’s breath hitched as the King stepped up. Then, his brows furrowed. Something was …off.

The speech was standard fare, it carried the message appropriately but the King...Bhairava would swear it felt like it was a different person. He didn’t process a single word of the speech.

“Hey Tapan…never mind.” Bhairava muttered as he realized how crazy he would sound if he asked him if that really was the King. Who else could it be?

Bhairava kept his eyes glued on the King throughout the speech. At one point he caught sight of those onyx eyes, and that feeling of wrongness settled heavier. Those were not his onyx eyes.

That is, those were not the onyx eyes Bhairava dreamed of. They looked…identical actually but something in them…no something was going on here. Something was off.

After that the crowd dispersed somewhat. Tapan told him to stay put, he would grab some food for both of them and they could head back to the palace before it got very late. Bhairava watched as the man maneuvered himself through the crowd towards the back of the table. He craned his neck when he glimpsed the sight of a midnight black kurta moving in contrast to the bright colors of the rest of the crowd.

He wanted to follow, to find him. To find the King and look into his eyes and see if he recognized them.

But he stayed where he was.

Tapan returned soon enough with two small parcels, a flush of triumph in his face that had Bhairava laughing. While Tapan did not speak a lot, he was always thoughtful with his words. Bhairava enjoyed hearing him talk about the kingdom and his job, the man’s pride for both so obvious. It made Bhairava ache for home, but at the same time, this place was starting to feel like home too. It had not even been a month. He wondered what that said about him.

They took the long way back to the palace, eating as they walked. Tapan kept pointing out various nooks and crannies, shops and buildings, explaining what all could be found there. Bhairava dutifully nodded along.

They parted once they reached Bhairava’s room, Tapan bowing low at Bhairava’s heavy gratitude. “Please Bhairava garu, it was a pleasure to accompany you. Shall I ask for Nandhini to come help you with undressing? She…added a lot of jewellery.”

Bhairava smiled sheepishly. “That would be very kind of you, thank you Tapan.”

Tapan had bowed and left.

Still feeling a little stifled from being pressed against the crowds, Bhairava went to his balcony, leaning against the railing as he tried to take in the city. The temple gopura looked almost hazy under the glow of all the diyas that had been lit upon it.

Onyx eyes flashed in his head again. Nowadays it felt like he was constantly under their gaze. He knew them so intimately, he was sure he could number the flecks of honey gold hidden in them.

They had not been the eyes he had seen on the man who had looked like the King giving the speech. He was sure of it.

Bhairava’s brows furrowed. What was going on here? How was it possible? It was one thing to hide a personality, but how did one change one’s eyes like that? If the King was capable of that kind of deception, what chance did Bhairava stand of ever getting to uncover his secrets?

As if summoned from his thoughts, a voice rang out.

“What has you s-s-so lost in your head Kala Bhairava?”

Bhairava jumped where he was standing. The King was leaning against the doorway. He looked…magnificent. The contrast of the brighter silver against the jet black lit the outfit as a whole. The King’s shoulders seemed so broad, as though enough to cover the breadth of the doorway, and even leaning against it, he looked …painfully handsome.

He swallowed when the man started walking towards him, so reminiscent of a predator about to pounce. A shiver ran through Bhairava at the thought of being pinned by him.

“Ma-Maharaj. Forgive me. I did not here you come in.”

“I knocked. But the door was open, so I let myself in.”

Bhairava bowed his head. “It is your palace Maharaj, you are free to wander.”

The King tilted his head at him. Something about his eyes made Bhairava feel stripped to the bone.

“Given how di-distracted you were, I am not surprised you didn’t hear me.”

Bhairava felt his cheeks flush with shame.

“Did something happen tonight?”

Bhairava thought back to the false King. He shook his head.

The King drummed his fingers against the railing. Bhairava’s fingers were caught by how broad they were. How strong his hand looked. He knew how strong they were. Could feel them in his memories and dreams.

“You are lying to me.”

Bhairava shook his head more violently. “No Maharaj. Forgive me. I am distracted tonight.”

“Alright. I will forgive you. If you t-t-tell me what you were th-thinking about so hard.”

“I-,” Bhairava hesitated. Should he tell the truth? Could he? But then he glanced at him from the corner of his eye and got stuck in that onyx gaze again. His onyx eyes. The ones he saw so often. The ones that sent a thrill of electricity through his spine. He gasped.

“Kala Bhairava?” the King asked, the smallest furrow forming above his eyes.

Bhairava shook his head. “No forgive me. The temple festivities were stunning Maharaj. Unlike anything we have in Udaigrah. You did very well with the abhishekam.”

Bhairava bit his tongue to cease his blabbering.

If the King was surprised or taken aback by any of Bhairava’s speech, he kept it well hidden behind his mask. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Bhairava bit his lip, turning away from the King, even as his mind screamed at him to not leave his back open to danger. “I…I was thinking about you, Maharaj.”

There was a pause, and time seemed to slow down around them as the wind died down, and even the drums went silent for a beat.

“What about me?”Bhairava curled his fingers atop the railing. He clenched his jaw as he felt a line of heat move closer to his back, unable to hold back the shiver. He turned abruptly, only to nearly crash against the King.

They were nearly chest to chest. And they were almost the same height but the King’s massive shoulders had him looming over Bhairava. The soldier pressed himself back against the railing.

“Ah…”

The King repeated his question, this time hovering his fingers over Bhairava’s hand in so light a touch it tickled. Bhairava couldn’t decide whether to press into or pull away from the touch. He felt rooted to the spot with those eyes boring into his own.

“What about me, Kala Bhairava?”

Bhairava felt a light tremble start from inside him. The King’s voice seemed deeper, and it was tugging low in his gut, the husky note making Bhairava want to bare his throat.

“Your eyes!” Bhairava blurted out.

The King’s forehead wrinkled.

“They um…they looked different when you were giving the speech at the temple,” Bhairava laughed nervously. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was someone else entirely, but that’s ridiculous.”

Suddenly the King gripped Bhairava’s arm in a hold so tightly, he was half certain it would bruise. He had stepped forward so he was literally pinning Bhairava, trapping him between the stone and his chest. His eyes looked wild. “What do you mean?”

“I-nothing Maharaj. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to imply anything-”

The King let go of him just as abruptly, stepping back so suddenly the space between them seemed to stretch endlessly. He paced for a moment, a troubled look in his eyes.

“Maharaj?”

The King looked up, and Bhairava felt his breath catch. Those eyes were so expressive for being stuck in a face with a permanent scowl. The King seemed to reach an answer to his internal debate because he suddenly stood up straight.

“Do not w-worry about it Kala Bhairava.”

Bhairava absently played with one of the rings Nandhini had given him. What was with the mood swings. He nodded once. “As you wish Maharaj.”

The King’s eyes drifted to his hands. “Nandhini did a g-good job.”

“She was wonderful Maharaj.” Bhairava responded sincerely, grateful for the change in topic.

“Do you like the jewels?” the King asked, again piercing him with a look.

“I- Maharaj, you were very generous, but I am a mere soldier, I have no need-”

“Do you like them?” The King repeated. The words caught in Bhairava’s throat as he remembered how he had looked at the end of Nandhini’s work. A flush bloomed in his cheeks. He lowered his eyes as he nodded.

A finger came into view before it tilted his head up by the chin. He gasped. The King had come closer again. If Bhairava wanted, he could wrap his arms around the King’s waist.

“No need to be ashamed Kala Bhairava. Y-y-you look magnificent. They suit you.” That last word was said with such conviction, Bhairava believed him. His blush deepened.

The King traced a hand from his cheek down his neck, moving closer as he swiped his hand across Bhairava’s shoulder to run down his arm. The bangles jingled as the King ran across them. He bit his lip when the King’s fingers pressed against his tattoo.

Bhairava gasped as he trembled. “Maharaj- what…what am I? To you? Why all these gifts?”

The King’s eyes were indecipherable where they pierced him. “I don’t know what you are Kala Bhairava. I don’t know anything about you. Except that you are driving me crazy.”

Bhairava’s knees nearly buckled as the King leaned some of his weight against him. Maybe he should be trying to step away, to push the king, but all he wanted was to be closer. His eyes swept down to the King’s lips, and he swallowed when the King licked them.

“Were you lying when you said you were thinking about my eyes?”

Kala shook his head. “No Maharaj.”

“I think about yours too. Especially like this, lined with kajal. You should wear them like this only.” the King murmured as he swiped a finger over his cheekbone, right under his left eye.

Bhairava couldn’t contain his whimper.

The King’s hold tightened, his eyes sending fire racing through Bhairava. He felt his chest starting to heave.

“Ma-Maharaj.”

“You forgot something at the temple.” The King said as he continued to caress Bhairava’s face. The other man was having a hard time trying to form a thought. “I- what?”

The King stepped back again, Bhairava barely holding back the whine at this. He placed his hand into his kurta and pulled something. The light caught on it.

Bhairava gasped, paling when he swept up his dhoti to show one bare ankle. When… he paled. Someone had stepped on his foot.

“Maharaj, I am so, so sorry, I didn’t even realize, I swear I did not mean to be so careless-”

The King held up a hand. “The crowds can be difficult to navigate the first time.”

Bhairava’s fists curled behind his back.

The King glanced at the anklet. “They are masterpieces no?”

“Worthy of kings.” Bhairava admitted softly.

The King looked at him curiously. He tightened his fist around the adornment. “May I?”

“Maharaj?” Bhairava asked, confused what the King wanted.

The King knelt down on one knee. Bhairava yelped going on his knees too. “What are you doing?”

“Stand Kala Bhairava, then only I may put this on you again.”

“Maharaj this is-”

“Are you disobeying me?” the King asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bhairava gaped at him. There was no easy choice. Slowly, Bhairava rose.

His heart was thundering in his chest as heat flooded his face. He gasped when the King took his bare foot in hand, lifting it to place it on his thigh.

Bhairava felt like he was gulping in air as he watched the King unclasp the jewellery and then reclasp it around his ankle. His touch was dizzying. Especially when he drew the fingers above the ankle, up the length of Bhairava’s calf.

“Maharaj.” Bhairava cried out, feeling strangled.

Onyx eyes looked up at him. The King grasped the back of his knee with a strong hand, lifting it again to set it down, and rose in a single motion. Bhairava stumbled back, only to be caught by the King with an iron arm around his waist, and pressed against his chest.

Bhairava’s hands rested against the King’s broad chest. His hands fisted the black silk.

The King leaned in, close enough his nose brushed alongside Bhairava’s. He felt the nose digging into his cheek, right where his dimple would be. “Ask me, Kala Bhairava.”

Bhairava choked, the silk wrinkling under his grasp as he pressed his forehead against the King’s.

“Maharaj…I…Will you…”

A knock at the door had Bhairava jumping again, pulling away from the King’s grasp. He was sure his face was on fire at this point.

The King handled the interruption a little better, letting his arms fall to his side.

“Bhairava garu?” a bubbly voice called out, “Where are you?”

It was the King who ended up replying. “Nandhini.”

Nandhini popped out of the room, gasping and bowing low when she saw the King there.

“Maharaj! I did not know you would be here.”

“Hmmm,” the King said. “I was just returning s-something to Kala Bhairava.”

Nandhini looked in the direction of said man, who was still hiding his face in the shadows.

Nandhini shrugged before smiling brightly. “Alright. The festivities were so wonderful Maharaj, and that tripundra! It was so big! It was beautiful.”

The king nodded his head. “Thank you.”

An awkward silence settled between the trio. Finally, the King cleared his throat. “Nandhini.”

“Maharaj?”

“I need you to prepare a bag for me. Clothes for three nights and four days. Ready by tomorrow. We leave day after.”

Bhairava whipped his head to look at the King. He was …leaving? Where? For what? What was Bhairava to do in the meantime?

Nandhini looked surprised before recovering quickly. “Of course Maharaj. Any specifics?”

The King shook his head once. “Anything is fine. I trust you.”

Those words seemed to make the young woman glow, the way she lit up, clasping her hands to her chest as the smile threatened to split her face. “Leave it to me Maharaj. I will pick out the perfect outfits for you.”

The king nodded in acknowledgement. He turned to Bhairava. Bhairava stood, terrified he would have to speak. He didn’t trust that his voice would work. He was still burning up from the inside.

That chest was even more firm than it looked.

“Good night Kala Bhairava.” The King said finally.

“Goo-Good Night Maharaj,” Bhairava replied shakily after a moment.

The King made his way to exit the room, only to turn at the last minute. “Nandhini.”

Nandhini had been walking towards Bhairava, but spun immediately. “Maharaj?”

The king reached into his pocket and pulled out something round, which he handed over to Nandhini.

“Laddu? My favorite!” Nandhini squealed excitedly as she clasped the sweet in her hand. “Maharaj! Thank you.”

“I don’t suppose there were any left for you by the time you ate?” the King said drily.

Nandhini giggled and shook her head. “Of course not. You know Arunama’s laddus are always gone by the second round of the feast.”

The King sighed. “How many times must I tell her to make more?”

Nandhini giggled, reaching out to pat the King’s arm. “Don’t blame her Maharaj, everyone knows how good they are, so they always end up taking extra.”

The King…the King smiled. Well, not a proper smile, just a quirk of the lips as his eyes shone with amusement, but it was enough to nearly send Bhairava crashing to the ground.

He had watched the whole scene silently, but that final smile, the thoughtfulness of the gesture of saving an extra sweet for a servant girl just because it was her favorite?

Bhairava’s chest was filling with too many feelings he couldn’t understand.

The King patted Nandhini’s head twice and left, not sparing another glance at Bhairava.

Bhairava tried to pretend that did not hurt.

“-rava garu? Bhairava garu!” Nandhini slapped his arm making him startle again.

Nandhini was looking at him, bewildered. “What happened to you? You look…not well.”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t think I am.” Bhairava said as he allowed her to pull him up and drag him back inside to remove all the adornments.

His head was spinning by what had just happened. The phantom feeling of hands that had so far only been restricted to his head now slid all over his chest, leaving him squirming where he stood. The sooner Nandhini left, the better.

He would ask her to leave the kajal behind though.

///

Feedback is appreciated.

Tagging (Please please work, Tumblr I beg you): @rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @junebugyeahhh @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @fangirl-from-discord @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks @m3gs1mps4a @tulodiscord @teddybat24 @sally-for-sally @ssabriel @jadebomani @stuckyandlarrystuff @veteran-fanperson @ohfuckoffpls

#rrr #jai lava kusa #jai kumar #jai x bhairava #kala bhairava #bhairava #magadheera #my fic #my writing #TAOAT

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ridiasfangirlings · 11 months

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Thinking about that assassin AU you answered a while back. What about another AU where Munakata's actually killed Fushimi's parents? Fushimi doesn't know how his parents died but does it really matter? But eventually he finds out Munakata's secret. Reactions? Reisaru?

I’m just imaging Munakata so concerned as to how to break the news and then when he admits he killed Fushimi’s parents Fushimi is just like that’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me XD So say similar to the earlier ask, Munakata is part of a clan of ninja assassins who target figures that threaten the peace of Japan. Kisa’s company has been doing all kinds of shady things with Niki’s assistance and so he’s tasked with killing them. Oh imagine this happens when Munakata’s fairly young, like this is his first ‘big’ mission. He slips onto their mansion on one of the rare days when both are home and skillfully kills them both, as he’s cleaning up the scene he hears a sound and the door creaks open. Munakata makes a quick escape out the window but ends up sitting in a tree watching and sees as young Saruhiko walks in, staring at his parents’ bodies.

Munakata doesn’t necessarily feel bad about this, as he knows Niki and Kisa needed to be killed for the sake of peace, but he does regret that they had a child who was left behind (and later he thinks if only he had taken the child that day and raised him together so they could be fine ninja companions). In the wake of his parents’ death Fushimi is expected to take over the company, he’s like put in foster care with one of Kisa’s people but of course they’re not interested in him as a person and only see him as a way to take over the company themselves. Fushimi sees right through this and by the time he’s a teenager he’s like rooted out all the bad actors in the company and basically done his own hostile takeover, the company is now both profitable and no longer doing shady things but Fushimi still hates it and hates being stuck running the legacy he never cared about.

One day he’s attending some fancy party and as it happens Munakata is there as well, stalking a target. When Munakata sees Fushimi he immediately knows who this is, he’s been keeping an eye on Fushimi ever since that day and maybe he’s even been like sending Fushimi secret checks or something as a ‘mysterious benefactor.’ He’s also aware of the way Fushimi’s handled Kisa’s company and Munakata is just very intrigued about what kind of person that child grew up to be. He decides to take some time to go speak with Fushimi, passing himself off as a member of a government official’s entourage (which is really a cover for his assassin activities). Initially Fushimi doesn’t want to talk to him at all but Munakata manages to smoothly get closer to him and he does at least manage an invitation to talk again.

Munakata knows he shouldn’t get close to ‘normal’ people but he feels like Fushimi is a singular person and he wants to get to know him more. Eventually say this culminates in Fushimi walking in on one of Munakata’s missions and almost getting killed by Munakata’s target, Munakata saves him and admits that he was perhaps hiding his ‘real’ job from Fushimi. Rather than being angry Fushimi just snorts and says he knew Munakata was a weird person but not this weird. After this their relationship gets better though, Fushimi is actually a little more intrigued by Munakata now. Munakata though is unsure how to broach the subject of him killing Fushimi’s parents, concerned how this will affect Fushimi but not wanting to lie to him either. When he eventually admits it I imagine Fushimi just clicking his tongue and saying ‘good.’ Munakata wasn’t expecting that reaction and Fushimi says those people were worthless anyway and besides, he’s had his suspicions for a while. (Also I imagine Munakata admitting that he wanted to take Fushimi with him that time and Fushimi quietly mumbles ‘you should have,’ like maybe his life would have been better if only he’d been able to go with Munakata back then.)

#Reisaru #Talking K #it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him #getting rid of Niki #Fushimi only regrets he didn't see it in person #he hopes it was slow and painful

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azertyrobaz · 7 months

Text

Satellites (7/7)

The last chapter! And it's extra long, but also extra angsty before the promised happy end (I can't write sad endings). Hope you enjoy! I've wanted to write a reverse "Reckoner" (my first Mando fanfic) for a while, and I feel like I've finally managed that. See you soon for more adventures! :)

************

What if Grogu hadn’t returned to Din in The Book of Boba Fett? What if he hadn’t been given a choice? – Modern AU setting: Grogu is now twelve, and he has to rely on his memories as a young child to track down the person who changed his life. The only person he knows who will be able to protect him from the bad man. The bad man who precipitated his separation from the only family he’s ever known. He embarks on a road trip to piece together his past, and reconnect with the people who might help him find his family again.

Read below or on ao3.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

************

They slowly settled into a routine. It was now the middle of summer and it grew hot some days in the cabin, but the nights were always cool. Some nights though, the stars and satellites he stared at before retiring to bed didn’t quite manage to keep the shadows at bay. The ones that would come to his mind, unbidden, around 3AM. The ones that had teeth.

“Up already?” asked his father, returning from his morning run, drenched in sweat.

Grogu shrugged, his mouth full of cereals. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been awake since before dawn, unable to find sleep again, and had finally given up when he’d heard him leave. But something in his dad’s eyes told him that he knew – a tensed sadness, and Grogu couldn’t look any longer. Instead, he stared at the tattoo at the center of his chest: one of the newer ones, a constellation almost perfectly in the shape of a diamond, right above his heart. Not for the first time, he realized that the wound it covered could have been fatal, given its location.

“Shower, then coffee,” his dad said, and Grogu nodded. Maybe one day he’d figure out how to ask him about it. The operation that had gone very very wrong. But anytime he tried broaching the subject, his father would smoothly brush him off. And Grogu knew better than to push – they’d finally found some kind of balance, and he didn’t want to ruin it. What they had worked right now, and his father hadn’t once mentioned that he needed to leave or go back to the institute – he wanted to keep things that way. Forever, if possible.

“I think I’ll be done with Winta’s computer today,” he announced over coffee later.

Part of his dad’s current work required helping setting up new identities for people under witness protection, which he did through air-gapped computers – brand new laptops that had never been connected to the Internet, for security reasons. But this meant they could only be used once. Usually, he’d then wipe their content and either sell them again if it was safe to do so, or keep some of the parts, but he’d agreed one could prove useful to Winta, who’d been saving up to buy a new one with the money she’d given Grogu.

He had listened, fascinated, as his dad explained what he did, and learned a lot about online security, IP addresses, fake identities and VPNs. For the past couple of days, he’d made sure the laptop was okay for Winta to use, and installed some software he thought would be useful to her for college.

“Sounds good, then we can ship it tomorrow or something,” his dad replied, and Grogu nodded. He’d told him that as long as they were careful to use an untraceable PO box as a shipping address, it was safe to use the post. He’d also confirmed it was fine to send her emails from here, which he had done after digging up her address on her high-school website. His friend had been thrilled to get news from him, and he’d mentioned he was sending her a gift, but he hadn’t said what it was yet. He’d have to email her the password to log into her – almost – brand new laptop, so that might tip her off sadly. This was one of the last things he needed to setup, and he was having way more fun with this than he expected.

“Want to go to the mall before lunch? Then grab burgers?” his father asked as he was clearing the table – they’d been eating mostly in silence, but that was their usual way. Grogu forced himself to smile but didn’t look up. He was still out of sorts after his short night, and he apparently hadn’t been able to hide it. His dad often suggested trips to the mall when he thought he was too bored or too quiet. And it was true that he always felt slightly better afterwards. They kept going to different malls, but it usually entailed getting a couple of new books for him or a Lego, and a greasy but enjoyable meal somewhere.

“I think I’d rather go for a ride this morning,” he eventually said. His dad had gifted him a bike – a sturdy, second-hand mountain bike with thick tires – which had proven to be a wonderful way to clear his mind, and to discover the many tracks surrounding the cabin. He’d gotten lost a few times, but it had been worth it. He hadn’t made fun of him either when he told him he wasn’t very good on a bike – that was just not something they did at the institute, and he’d never really learned how to ride – and simply gave him pointers and advice to find his balance and slowly get better at it. Grogu was now a lot more confident in his ability and even loved going for long rides on his own.

He risked glancing up. His father stared at him with his usual composure, brown eyes unblinking, but he’d mechanically picked up one of his small notebooks from the counter. It made a tap, tap, tap sound against the wood. He was nervous, and craving a cigarette.

“Alright,” he sighed, with a forced smile of his own. “Carson might call later so I’d better stick around anyway, but we can make burgers for lunch on the barbecue. It’s a scorcher today, so remember to take some water with you.”

“I will,” Grogu promised, exiting the kitchen to get dressed.

************

Grogu biked aimlessly for a while, but his father had been right – it was only a little after nine but the day was proving very hot already. He thus made his way to a large pond he knew, and rested under the shade of a willow tree. He’d filled up his water bottle and put his current book – The Odyssey – in his new backpack, but he didn’t feel like reading. He didn’t feel like anything, really.

“He’s only going to blame himself if I say anything,” he told a nearby frog, who was also enjoying the cooler temperature in the shade. He’d discovered the frog colony the first time he came upon the place, but they had never answered back. Still, it was nice to pretend their sluggish croaks were them agreeing with him.

“He doesn’t want to know about my nightmares, and it’s not like talking about them helped a lot in the past, not really.”

Grogu had talked to a counselor a few times at the institute, but his nightmares had faded away with time. He thought it was exceptionally unfair that his bad dreams would choose to return now, when he was finally reunited with his father, the one thing he’d wished for for years. But then the very fact that he was here – and that he had been allowed to stay – was linked to Gideon’s return, so he guessed it made sense.

“I know he still feels terrible about handing me over to Doctor Pershing that first time, but he didn’t know Gideon was behind it and yeah, I also know he wasn’t such a great person back then but he did come back. And he came to my rescue as well when I was kidnapped that second time. It wasn’t his fault.”

He wondered who he was trying to convince. Certainly not the frog, whose unblinking dark eyes were slowly starting to set his teeth on edge.

“I’m sure the nightmares will go away once Gideon is caught, and Bo-Katan and Ahsoka are probably getting close, dad said they were following several ‘promising leads’ the other day. I’m glad he’s letting them handling it. And then once that’s done we can have an actual talk and I’ll tell him I want to stay and he’ll understand. I think he’ll be open to it. I think it’ll work.”

Grogu exhaled and picked up a flat rock. Maybe skipping stones would help. Maybe it would calm his nerves. Maybe if Gideon caught him the tests wouldn’t hurt this time. Maybe he didn’t need his blood anymore. Maybe he’d plug him to a machine and ask him to move objects with his mind instead, like in that Netflix show he’d watched with other kids at the institute. Or maybe he’d open him up to look at the inside of his brain. Maybe that way he’d finally understand his so-called ‘powers’ – what a load of bull, he was smart not magic. But surely that wouldn’t hurt because then he would be dead.

Grogu launched the rock with all his strength and the loud noise it made when it dropped in the water scared the frog away.

“Sorry,” he said to no one in particular.

He tried reading for a while but couldn’t concentrate on the words. He felt lonely and sad and decided to bike back to the cabin. He’d be able to read there, he knew. Even if they didn’t say anything – and they usually didn’t – knowing his dad was nearby was the only thing he needed. And since he’d mentioned that Carson might call, it meant he could be away for the night. He’d only done that a couple of times but he’d always been there the next morning, so it was okay. And he knew the work he was doing was important and paid for his food and his things.

Grogu convinced himself he would be fine on his own as he pedaled back home. His father would be bound to check with him before agreeing to anything – Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone? – like he’d done the previous times, and Grogu had known just looking into his eyes that if he’d even seemed unsure, or worse, if he’d lied, his dad would stay with him and refuse the job.

The area was secured, and he’d been shown on the computer how to access and check the alarms and cameras that were hidden all over. He knew how to shoot, and his father had even entrusted him with a gun of his own, which he kept in a special pocket of his backpack. He’d been given the combinations of all the safes should be need more firepower. He’d learned how to use the satellite phone and the CB radio. Grogu felt safe here. He didn’t fear he would be attacked. Even if his father was away. The only thing he feared was what was in his mind.

************

Carson Teva was a US Marshall. As such, he oversaw the protection of key judicial assets, managed rescue operations of fugitives, and supervised the smooth running of the witness protection program in the state. Through Greef at first, he’d started employing his dad as a contractor on several tasks. It had actually been funny to hear him talk so uncertainly and almost bashfully about it, as if Grogu was going to admonish him or make fun of him for working – for lack of a better word – for cops. People his father had been careful to avoid back when Grogu was younger, if not openly bad-mouth.

But this had been then and this was now, and there was no mistaking the fact that his dad was and had always been very good at what he did – finding people. And thus, unsurprisingly, helping them stay hidden as well. Not only that, it seemed clear to Grogu that he liked what he was doing. And what he liked even better (obviously) was for an entity that had done its best in the past to try – and fail – to catch him red-handed in some unsavory scheme to now pay him actual money for his services.

He hadn’t met Carson yet, but he now recognized his voice, which welcomed him back when he returned to the cabin. Grogu couldn’t hear their actual conversation – his father had taken the conference call in his room – but he enjoyed the background noise it created as he settled on the small living room sofa to work on Winta’s computer. This was a safe sound.

Over lunch, his father predictably announced that he would need to be away for the night, but for the first time, when Grogu asked him if he would be back the next morning as usual, he hesitated before replying.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “This one might take a little longer, but you can of course call me on the sat phone if there’s anything. Is that okay?” Piercing eyes staring into his and making sure he wouldn’t lie.

“It’ll be fine,” Grogu replied calmly, scratching his wrist – the watch his father had let him keep felt heavy and uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I have food for days,” he joked – they’d cooked way too much meat on the barbecue.

“Sure?”

“Certain. As long as you promise to take Winta’s laptop with you, it’s ready to be shipped,” he added.

“Deal,” his father easily agreed, and finally stopped looking at him. Grogu had the vague impression that he also didn’t want him to stare at him too closely, but the feeling passed and they had coffee followed by an easy afternoon until his departure.

Grogu spent the night on the roof – it was still hot in the cabin, too hot to find sleep comfortably, and he wanted to be that much closer in case his dad returned early the next morning.

He didn’t.

With leftover burgers for lunch, Grogu decided it was still too soon to start to worry, but he kept the surveillance laptop open, so that he could see all the camera feeds from outside. Just in case. He tried to read, work on a Lego, figure out what to tell Winta in his next email…but nothing managed to hold his attention for long. He kept looking at the door of his father’s room, as if he would suddenly come out.

By evening, he decided to have a look inside. He usually didn’t venture there, even during the other times his dad had been away, feeling like an intruder, but today was different, and he was starting to feel a little scared. He hoped he’d be able to feel his presence there and ease his anxious mind.

He stared at the constellation map for a long time, tracing familiar patterns. He felt like he was missing something – something crucial. But he couldn’t focus on anything except his mounting worry. Sitting on his dad’s impeccably made bed, he took in deep, calming breaths. His eyes settled on the collection of small notebooks above his desk – the kind he always carried around, pocket-sized, with a plain black rigid cover. He knew he’d find his drawings in there, and he wasn’t disappointed. Doodles of creatures – real or invented ones – covered most pages. Neatly written notes of what he expected to be surveillance jobs. Sketches of places. Drawn maps. Random numbers and calculations.

There were no dates or addresses or important information that could be used in case someone came upon those notebooks, but Grogu still managed to find older ones, from several years back. The drawings clued him in – he could see how he’d decided which tattoos to get to cover injuries he’d sustained during the two years they spent together. There were even sketches of him – sleeping in the car, playing on the beach, eating a waffle… He’d forgotten those moments, but seeing them now on the page, he remembered.

In the next few notebooks, the doodles and sketches had disappeared. He saw a lot of gaps, strikethrough text, half erased words and incomplete sentences. The few drawings were messy and abandoned halfway through. Grogu didn’t have to figure out long when those entries had been made, as he came upon the start of a couple of letters, which had clearly been thought about and amended several times, but never sent:

Kid Dear Grogu,

Skywalker said I could write to you How are you? You must be learning tons and I hope you’re getting plenty of food and becoming smarter and bigger every day. If you want to I was wondering whether you wanted

Grogu,

Hopefully you’re not too angry I thought now was a good time to reach out, because I wanted to ask you if

Grogu swallowed hard and closed the notebook. He felt like he had just read something he definitely shouldn’t have. Something so private he wanted to burst into flames and disappear through the cracks in the floorboard. But he’d seen his name and –

Why hadn’t he sent those letters? Why hadn’t he reached out? Why hadn’t he said anything now that he was back? And where the hell was he? Why hadn’t he come back yet? Had something happened? Something bad? Was it all too late to say anything now? Was he injured? Dead?

Shaking with fear, hot tears blinding him as he stepped out of the room, he checked the surveillance laptop again. All the cameras. All the angles. Made sure all the alarms were working. He inhaled deeply and reached for the satellite phone. Its twin was with his dad. There was no answer after he let it ring for a full minute. He waited for 5 minutes then called again. Then again. Nothing. He couldn’t text or leave a message, but then he had no idea what he would say. Should he give him one more night or should he really start to freak out?

Grogu reached for the CB radio and used the code his father had taught him to call Greef. He hadn’t seen his dad, and he hadn’t heard from Carson either, but he was supposed to meet with him the next morning. He offered to come to the cabin, but Grogu refused – he could take care of himself.

He forced himself to eat dinner, then grabbed the binoculars and the surveillance laptop, and climbed on the roof. Grogu didn’t sleep and his father didn’t return.

At dawn, he put food, water, the sat phone, a change of clothes and extra ammo for his gun in his backpack, then waited until there was just enough light and climbed on his bike. He’d be in Nevarro in just under two hours.

************

“ – think that’s where he might be?”

A man was talking to Greef at the door of his office – his assistant had been kind enough to let him through, but then he’d probably looked quite the sight with his wind-swept hair, and she took pity on him. Grogu thought he recognized his voice.

“Are you Carson Teva?” he asked, unconcerned about the conversation he was interrupting.

“Who’s asking?” the balding man with the grey beard answered.

“I’m Grogu. Din Djarin’s…son.”

“I didn’t know he had a son, but I guess it makes sense.”

Grogu didn’t have time to ask him what he meant by that. He still hadn’t even told him if he was Carson Teva, but his voice was really familiar.

“If you’re Carson Teva, then can you tell me where you sent him? He’s not picking up his phone and he should be home by now.”

“I didn’t send him anywhere.”

Grogu started breathing a little faster – a feat, since he still hadn’t gotten his breath back from his bike ride. “The other day, your call, I heard you. And then he left. He said he had to work. Where is he?”

But Grogu already knew what his answer would be, because he’d just realized something – something that threatened to turn his worry into full-blown terror. His father had never explicitly said he was off to work on a job for Carson. Grogu had just assumed. As his dad knew he would. ‘This one might take a little longer.’

“I don’t know where he is, kid. I’m sorry. I’m also looking for him. I thought Karga would know, that’s why I’m here.”

“And I don’t either,” said Greef, looking pained, and this time Grogu decided he needed to sit down. Which he did. On the floor. Then ran his hands over his face and blocked his ears so that he wouldn’t have to listen to Carson and Greef’s panicked exclamations as they rushed to his side. He needed to think. And breathe. Not burst into tears.

He could do this. He could figure out where his father had gone. He was counting on him.

“I’m fine,” he eventually mumbled, standing up shakily, ignoring the two men pressing questions. They shouldn’t focus on him, they should focus on finding where his dad was. They were running out of time – he’d been gone for over 24 hours.

“What were you talking about that last time on the phone?” he asked Carson, staring at the floor through burning eyes.

“The next job I needed his help on. He was supposed to do some surveillance for me today.”

“So nothing about…” And there Grogu hesitated and looked towards Greef, who knew the most about his situation, but apparently he needn’t have worried.

“Nothing about Moff Gideon,” Carson confirmed.

“He didn’t say anything to me either, kid,” Greef added. “Only that Bo-Katan was still working on some leads in the Midwest.”

“I know Ahsoka Tano is on a job not far from here – ”

But Grogu had stopped listening again. This wasn’t helping. He didn’t have time to stop and wonder why Carson, Bo and Ahsoka all seemed to know each other either. Was his father investigating alone? Was he working on something completely unrelated? Had he simply broken down somewhere? Been in an accident? Was he injured? Dying in some random hospital?

“ – she asked me about abandoned or disused labs in the region.”

“Labs?” Grogu interrupted Carson again, the word one he disliked profoundly. That stopped his mind from going somewhere even darker – he’d been there before. He’d been certain his father was dead once already. He couldn’t go through it again.

“Tano seemed to think it was relevant,” the man replied patiently, keenly aware of his distress. “That Gideon might be trying to recruit a new team of scientists and rebuild. But there were so many possibilities. The state is full of places that would fit the bill.”

Grogu started walking again and let the two men talk, his legs stiff and uncooperative. He couldn’t stay still.

“I’ll call her,” Carson said, phone in hand, presumably talking about Ahsoka still.

He breathed out deeply and forced himself to stand still and listen to their conversation, hands deep in his pockets to stop them from shaking. He could feel tears threatening to spill from his eyes again – he couldn’t cry in front of them. If he showed weakness they’d start wondering what the hell a twelve-year old kid was doing here asking all those questions. Carson was a cop. He had the authority to send him back to the institute, or worse. His dad hadn’t told him about his existence or about him staying at the cabin, which had been the smart move. Even if it made him a little sad.

The conversation proved short, and Grogu knew what her answer had been even before Carson hung up, but at least she’d picked up. Greef was also on the phone, and equally unsuccessful.

“Tano doesn’t know where he could be either, he hasn’t mentioned he was investigating Gideon to her,” Carson related.

“Bo-Katan and her team haven’t heard from him,” Greef added.

“What do you think, kid? Would he be investigating this alone? Did he tell you anything?”

Grogu stared at Carson. Equally proud and terrified to be asked such a question.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly after a beat. “But I do think he was hiding something from me.”

The half-truths. The stares. The worry.

Grogu’s right fist tightened around the crumpled bills in his pocket. He’d mechanically grabbed the cash he still had from Winta before leaving the cabin – just in case. How far could he go with $400 before he was caught? But that suddenly gave him an idea.

Winta.

“Let me use your phone!” he asked Greef, running towards him. The man didn’t question his request, seeing the wild look in his eyes, and handed him his phone, unlocked.

There was one program he hadn’t removed from Winta’s laptop, thinking she might find it useful, and it should still work with the credentials he’d used – unless she’d received the computer already, but Grogu doubted this very much. Or at least, he wished it wasn’t the case. And that his dad hadn’t had the time to ship it yet. With shaking fingers, he entered the account data he remembered well, and pressed the button ‘Find’.

Please don’t be at a post office. Please don’t be at a post office. Please –

“Here,” he showed Carson urgently. “Was there an old lab there?”

Carson looked at the map with a frown. The red dot wasn’t very far from here, in a wooded area. But there was no indication of any building, abandoned or otherwise. The US Marshall checked his own phone, looking for information there. This was taking forever, they had to go, now! The laptop was right there! So surely his father –

“Yes!” the man said eventually.

************

They saw smoke before they found his dad’s car and Grogu’s heart clenched. He was gripping the grab handle above his window so hard he was certain it would come off. Greef had already called for reinforcements and Ahsoka was supposed to meet them at the scene. But Grogu couldn’t wait – as soon as the car had slowed down enough, he opened his door and ran, caring very little about any remaining danger.

“Hey!” yelled Carson.

Grogu saw that the smoke was coming from an old building in the distance, but the fire seemed mostly contained by now. He guessed an explosion had caused it, since he spotted rubble and debris here and there, blackened or burned. He tried yelling for his dad but he couldn’t make his voice work, either because of the smoke or because of the panic tightening around his throat and making him deaf to the yells behind him as Greef and Carson made their way closer.

His car was here, intact. Winta’s laptop in its shipping box on the backseat. But no sign of his father anywhere.

Grogu kept running towards the destroyed building, his vision tunneling, stumbling on loose rocks and branches. The area was densely wooded and extra hard to navigate in his state, but he couldn’t wait. He saw a figure to his left but didn’t check whether it was alive or dead after ascertaining it wasn’t his father. He didn’t care.

A soft sound to his right – a mumbled word – and only then did he wonder if he should grab the gun from his backpack. A shape was half-hidden next to a tree trunk, partly covered in foliage used for protection or warmth. A pale hand was poking out, with a distinctive blue arrow tattooed on it.

“Dad!” Grogu breathed, coming closer.

Another whispered word, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying over his own loud breaths. He almost fell over him in his haste, moving the leaves covering him to see him better. His eyes were open and staring right at him. Breathing just as fast. Alive, but just. He was worryingly cold, his lips almost as blue as the tattoos on his hands.

“Over here!” he screamed over the lump in his throat, his voice hoarse and barely recognizable. “He’s over here! He needs help! Quick!”

“Grogu…”

“Shhh, it’s alright!”

But it wasn’t. He could now see that the arm he was cradling against him was at a weird angle, and that he’d taken off his shirt to cover a wound on his side. It was drenched in blood.

“How…did…”

“Don’t talk!”

“How…” his father repeated, his stuttered breaths worrying Grogu even more than the blood or the paleness of his skin.

“Winta’s laptop,” he said in a rush, in the hope that it would be enough of an explanation and that he would stop talking and straining himself. How long had he been lying there injured? A few hours? A whole day?

“Smart kid,” his dad smiled, and his eyes started to close.

“No, stay awake!” Grogu urged, terrified he wouldn’t wake up again. This couldn’t be their last conversation. It just couldn’t. There was too much he needed to say. His dad’s eyes snapped open and he groaned. Carson had reached them, checking his wound.

“I think you pierced a lung,” he provided unhelpfully, pressing his own jacket against the bleed.

“No…shit,” his father managed laboriously.

“Greef’s calling an ambulance.”

A nod, but that seemed to cause him more pain, and Grogu didn’t know what else to do but hold his free hand.

“He’s too cold!” he told Carson.

“He’s gonna be fine, kid, that’s just shock,” the man replied, but he didn’t sound convinced.

Grogu reached inside his backpack for his sweater, draping it over his father’s exposed skin. But not before he finally realized what he’d overlooked all this time. He felt a stab of cold terror pierce his brain, almost like an electric charge. The tattoo over his heart. The constellation in the shape of a diamond. Ursa Minor.

“I’ll be okay, little bear,” his father whispered, his eyes resolutely closing. And no matter how loud Grogu yelled at him, tears running freely on his cheeks by now, he couldn’t make him open them again.

************

Grogu only remembered glimpses of the ride in the ambulance. Greef’s insistence to take him to Nevarro’s hospital. The news that Ahsoka had found Gideon’s body in the ruins. His small hand clasping his dad’s much bigger one as the paramedics worked. Surely he should have been warming up by now. But he was still so cold.

He was forced to let go so that he could be rushed to the operating room – pneumothorax, broken collarbone, shattered humerus – and someone directed him towards a plastic seat in a waiting room. A hot chocolate was placed in front of him. A sandwich. Grogu was paralyzed. His backpack still on and his bloodied sweater clutched to his chest. His dad’s blood on Winta’s sweater. There was a burning sensation behind his eyes. Born of numbness and exhaustion. He’d cried all the tears he could cry for now. The Ursa Minor tattoo over his heart. The Little Bear. He’d been right there and he hadn’t known. All this time.

Hours passed. Greef showed up. Carson. Ahsoka. No, he was fine where he was. No, he wasn’t hungry. The surgeon came. His father’s heart had stopped during surgery, she said. He’d lost a lot of blood. But he’d pulled through. And he could go sit with him for a little while in the ICU, would he like that? And yes, yes he would.

He almost didn’t recognize him under all those tubes and white bandages. His hand was still cold. He was still pale. But all the machines were beeping just right, the doctor said. He was strong. And yes, Grogu knew that too. He’d be moved to another room later but for now he had to leave him. Greef convinced him to go eat something in the cafeteria. The sky was dark outside. It was nighttime. He looked at his watch and realized he’d left the cabin over 17 hours ago.

He didn’t feel like saying anything so he let Greef do the talking, but the man wasn’t his usual chatty self either. He was worried too, and it made Grogu feel better instead of worse. He wasn’t alone. Thanks to him, he was allowed to rest for a few hours on a cot in the staff room. This was a small hospital, and Greef had a lot of pull in Nevarro. No one bothered Grogu or asked what a twelve-year old was doing here unaccompanied.

Come morning, he showered and changed into the clean clothes he’d brought in his backpack. Bought a coffee from the vending machine. It tasted awful. He got a second one just as Carson showed up again. Grogu was ready to bolt if he so much as suggested he couldn’t stay here any longer. He knew very well he wasn’t supposed to be here alone. He was a minor. He’d ran away from his state appointed home weeks ago. He was at the mercy of Child Protective Services.

“I thought you should have this,” Carson Teva said instead, handing him the shipping box containing Winta’s laptop. “We had to impound your dad’s car for the investigation, so it will be safer with you.”

“Thanks,” Grogu replied blandly.

They sat in the uncomfortable plastic seats of the waiting room in silence.

“So Moff Gideon is dead?” Grogu asked eventually – this he wanted confirmed. Yesterday’s terror and numbness were slowly being replaced by a stark feeling of awareness. Maybe it was all finally over.

“We’re still combing the area and IDing bodies but yes, Gideon’s dead, as well as several disgraced scientists and con men we’d been keeping an eye on.”

“They died in the explosion?”

“Some also had gunshot wounds.”

Grogu hummed in reply and Carson thankfully didn’t add anything else on the subject. They both knew what his father was capable of.

“Think he might go to prison?”

Carson shrugged. “We found a lot of destroyed equipment in the lab. Dangerous volatile substances. Explosion could have been an accident.”

“And the gunshot wounds?”

“Maybe they had a disagreement before the explosion.”

Grogu bit back a humorless laugh.

“No one will mourn those people, and Moff Gideon was a dangerous, awful person.”

“I know,” said Grogu with feeling. That didn’t make it right exactly, but he could live with it.

His father was moved to his own room in the afternoon, and the armchair next to his bed proved a lot more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. So there Grogu remained, and saw color slowly returning to his dad’s skin. By evening, his eyes started to open.

“Dad?” Grogu said, clasping his hand.

“Mmh?” he replied, gripping his hand back with more force than he’d expected for someone whose heart stopped beating on the operating table.

“I don’t want to go back to the institute. I want to stay here and live with you,” he told him quickly, having rehearsed the words. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Okay,” his father said simply.

“Gideon’s dead,” Grogu reminded him.

“Good.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

And he closed his eyes again. Grogu hoped he’d remember their conversation when he woke up. Exhausted, he fell asleep as well, his head resting over his crossed arms on his father’s bed.

************

“You don’t mind the cabin? It’s very small.”

Grogu slowly emerged from deep sleep and sat up against the armchair, the sun shining brightly through the window. He was achy all over. He’d woken up a few times during the night when nurses came to check on his dad, but this had still been the best sleep he’d had in a while.

“What?” he mumbled, thinking those words had been part of the strange dream he’d been having – he couldn’t remember it now. Something about wearing a robot costume. Probably his muscles complaining via his subconscious for the previous nights.

“The cabin. Do you want to move?”

His father sounded a lot better, almost like his regular self. If not for the many tubes still coursing through him, he could have pretended they were having a normal conversation.

“I like the cabin,” Grogu replied, happy that he hadn’t forgotten what he’d told him the first time he woke up.

“I’ve made a lot of enemies throughout the years, so we’ll have to stay hidden.”

“I know.”

“But we don’t have to disappear completely either, we can move around a little freely now that Gideon’s gone.”

Grogu wondered how long his dad had been awake, rehearsing his own words. Now that he was a little more cognizant, he could see a certain tenseness around his eyes and mouth. His free hand was clenching and unclenching around the bedsheet.

“You’re in pain,” Grogu realized. “Let me call a nurse – ”

“No, there’s a few things I wanna say,” his dad stopped him. “The drugs make me sleepy.”

“But – ”

“It’s important, you have to hear this,” he pressed, his eyes intent, and Grogu sat back down.

“The cabin, your room, your bed – it was always meant to be for you,” he started in a breath. “I didn’t know then if you’d want to see me again or stay for long, but it was for you.”

Grogu was stunned. Even if he’d guessed some of it through what he’d read in his notebooks. Or his general caginess when he’d asked about the brand new bed in his room. Or his grades on the fridge.

“That last mission with Bo-Katan and her team… It went badly. Really badly. I didn’t think I’d make it. And you were my one regret. I had to make things right. And then you showed up before I figured out how to get my head out of my ass and ask you. Skywalker was supposed to talk to you about it. I guess it was difficult for him too, I don’t blame him.”

“You asked Luke?” Grogu pressed, incapable to put a name on the emotions he was feeling at the moment.

“Of course,” his father frowned, sweat beading at his brow. He needed painkillers, but he was too stubborn. And Grogu knew they needed to have this talk. “He said he wasn’t sure you liked being at the institute anymore, but he would let you choose. And then the Gideon thing happened and…” A deep exhale.

It wasn’t betrayal, not really. Even if they’d both acted behind his back. There was even some relief there. Somehow, the two of them had known without him saying anything.

“Why did you lie?” he eventually asked in a small voice, because it was the only thing that still really hurt. “You never said you were investigating Gideon on your own, and I thought you’d just be gone for the night, on a job for Carson. Nothing dangerous.”

“I’m so sorry,” his father spoke through clenched teeth, his pain not only of a physical kind now. “I couldn’t bare seeing you like that. You were so scared because he was still out there. So worried. And you wouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t talk about it. Your nightmares – ” he was out of breath. He exhaled slowly and started again. “It was too much. And when I found out it was actually him you’d seen at the mall – ”

“It was?” Grogu interrupted him, incredulous. His father nodded slowly, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears. This was ridiculous.

“Dad, let me call – ”

“No,” he said forcefully. “Let me finish. I was wrong to lie to you, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. But I had to get Gideon. I knew he was close since he’d managed to track us once. And I was right.”

Grogu knew this was the best he could hope for in terms of apologies. “I was really worried.”

“I know.”

“You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, you can’t do that anymore, I need you to stay alive,” he tried to explain, badly, his tone rising, legs bouncing up and down against the seat.

His father sighed deeply, his eyes so full of pain it hurt to look at him directly. “I know.”

Grogu wanted to believe him. Desperately. Tears forming in his own eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Maybe this was how happiness started, he thought. With trust.

“Okay.”

And this time he didn’t stop him when he pressed the button for the nurse.

************

“Why did it have to be an explosion?”

It was mid-afternoon. His dad had been sleeping for most of the day, but Grogu didn’t mind. He’d unpacked Winta’s laptop from its box – he’d have to get it ready again, that was okay – and had made good use of the Wi-Fi provided in the hospital to do some research.

“I like a good explosion,” his father slurred. The drugs did make him sound a little drunk, but he’d known exactly what Grogu had been talking about. He’d been given a morphine pump and a remote to control his intake of painkillers and had been using it less sparingly since his surgeon had shown up earlier to tell him they’d be able to remove his chest tube the next day, and that yes, it was going to hurt. A lot.

“I just didn’t time it right,” he admitted.

“You messed up your calculations.”

“I did.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Grogu pointed out.

“I know,” he sighed, and pressed the remote once. Grogu gave him a few minutes before talking again.

“I just enrolled in Nevarro’s high school, I’m starting in September. Greef put in a good word with the principal.”

“I thought you already passed your SATs. Skywalker said – ”

“Yeah, and I’ve got an amazing GPA, I don’t care, I want to go to high school, do something normal. I can go to college later, I still want to be an astronaut, I just want to do it at the normal speed, you know?”

“And you’re not going to be bored?”

Grogu shrugged. “Maybe a little. So I enrolled in a couple of university courses as well, just in case.”

“You’ve been busy,” his father noted. But Grogu wasn’t done.

“I also checked the State’s requirements: you need a GED to get a private detective’s license, so I signed you up for next January, that should give you enough time.”

“What?”

“I don’t see why you can’t have one like Ahsoka, that way you’ll be able to find work more easily.”

And be taken more seriously. And stop thinking he was dumb just because he dropped out of high school.

“Grogu, I don’t know, I’m not smart like you, I can’t – ”

“Being smart is overrated, trust me. And I’ll help you. I know you can make it, dad.”

He was silent for a while and Grogu thought he’d fallen back to sleep. But looking up from the laptop’s screen, he noticed that his eyes were still open. He was staring in the distance, lost in thought.

“I know the morphine is making me a bit loopy, but it’s funny how easy it’s been to get used to that word. That name.”

It took a few seconds for Grogu to figure out what he meant but when he did, he smiled brightly. And decided he should perhaps press his luck.

“Once you’re better we should go to Sorgan. Winta deserves to be given her computer face to face. She saved you, after all. And I need to give her back her cash, too. But you bled all over her sweater so I think she’ll let me keep it.”

“Alright,” he agreed with yet another sigh.

“You’ll have to decide on your next tattoo as well. To cover the spot where they put your chest tube,” Grogu added, thinking the prospect would cheer him up a little.

“That’s okay, I’ve decided.”

“Already?” Grogu marveled.

“Well, it’s obvious. It will have to be Ursa Major.”

The Great Bear and the Little Bear. And Grogu nodded, because it did make perfect sense.

#the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #carson teva #greef karga #fanfic #star wars #mandalorian #modern au #angst with a happy ending #found family #my fics

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just-puddding · 2 years

Text

Team Minato week Day 6- Sharingan/ summons

K–kas–i– eye. Promise. Need. Future. Hurt See. Red– wh– are y– do–g

"Kakashi!" hands are gripping painfully into His shoulders to snap him out of it "you're going to hurt yourself!"

Kakashi trashes around, mind hazy, struggling to keep up with what is happening

"Rin? I can't– i promised to–"

She pulls him forward, wrapping her arms around him and running circles through his back soothingly "i– i promised Obito I'd be his eye– i can't just cover it– i can't–

"Kakashi" she shuts him up "you can't keep doing this, the sharingan is draining you" Kakashi sobs in pain, latching his hands onto her back "but I promised–"

"I know" Rin brings his face up, taking a tear away and Kakashi can see she's crying too "but you also promised to protect me, remember?" A smile

"now, how are you going to do that when you're dead?"

Kakashi's eyes widen and he breaks into a sob again, pushing his head forward to strike against her shoulder.

It takes a minute, two maybe of trying to slow his breathing until he finally manages to calm himself down

Embarrassed, Kakashi pulls away, running a hand to wipe his tears before it lands on his sharingan and he stops.

He can feel the warmth of his eye under his hand, he tries not to panic again at the the feeling of being undeserving it causes

He sighs before pulling his hitai-ate down

"I'm sorry" Kakashi says, whispers, turning his face away from Rin. He sees the flower again and just… lets his gaze linger

Rin laughs, not very truly humorously, but good-naturedly all that same as she wipes away her own tears "it's okay" she says, voice hoarse "just don't do it again, alright?"

Kakashi takes a shaky breath

"I just wanted to show him things he'd like to see" he whispers "not just… death, the battlefield" he wanted Obito to see a hopeful future, not a dreadful one

Rin hums understanding "i thought he might like the flower, it's… beautiful"

Kakashi turns his head around confusedly as Rin begins to softly snicker "it is. it's an iris, isn't it?" She stares at the flower, smiling kindly "yes" Rin laughs again, the sound hollow, as if forced

Kakashi turns back to the flower. He does truly think it's beautiful. irises are shaped oddly, this one reminds him of a cross and its color is a bright purple shade overlaying white, he thinks Obito would have liked it.

"I just wanted to show him something he would actually want to see" he murmurs, remorsefully

He feels Rin's back lean against his own, as she makes a tired sound "i know" she then slacks against him "do you remember their meaning?"

Kakashi nods immediately, reciting their teacher's word Verbatim "the iris is considered a flower of royalty, used as insignias and broaches for people of high-standing. They can symbolize things such as faith and hope"

Rin hums in confirmation "I'm impressed you still remember, you've always hated flower-language classes"

Kakashi huffs, not truly irritated "it's not smart to let your personal feelings on something stop you from learning it" which makes Rin snort, then he adds "besides that, knowing about flowers can be useful, I read a book a while back about medicinal and poisonous flowers, can't find it anymore"

It was a good book, too, recognizing potential poisoning attempts and knowing how to treat injuries is vital, it was truly a pity their teacher only taught their meanings– they're barely ever relevant to a Shinobi

Obito would have liked flower language classes, though… he'd always been very sentimental

He shakes the thought away "i can find it for you, if you want" Rin probably already knows most if not all of them, but it sounds like something she'd like

"That would be great, thanks"

They fall silent again, Kakashi's mind running through a million different thoughts as he watches the irises sway ever-so-slightly with the wind

"it's getting late" Rin notes, looking up at the sky "We should get this to Obito's grave, he'll appreciate it"

Kakashi nods, that would be nice

Kakashi likes to show Obito things.

Obito didn't know about that feature when he gave Kakashi the sharingan and even if he knew it wouldn't have amounted to anything towards his goals at the moment

The way it works is that both of their eyes are connected, being one of a pair, and this connection between them makes it so Obito can get glimpses of what is Kakashi seeing

There are a few limitations, Obito has to be within a close enough range of him, or he has to concentrate on the connection really hard.

Most of the time when Obito sees something Kakashi is in the middle of a fight, to his benefit, the fights he sees are usually interesting ones, since Kakashi has to have had a good reason to take out his sharingan

Other times, though, Kakashi shows Obito random stuff in his life

strays he passes by in the street, places from Obito's childhood hosting events, landscapes from the missions he goes to, Gai dressing Kakashi's ugly old-man dog in a bunny costume, Kids running around doing something stupid, Obito's favourite foods that Kakashi decided to cook, a prank he successfully pulled, usually against his weird Anbu partner.

Despite himself, Obito feels touched that Kakashi bothers to record nice things, even when doing so can gravely impact his health, at the same time he just thinks Kakashi's being stupid

Overtime the visions became a way to get updates on Kakashi's life and Konoha, what he didn't learn through Kakashi talking to his grave, he learned from their link

He learned Minato became Hokage because Kakashi recorded his inauguration, he knew when Kakashi was having rough missions, he first saw Kakashi's genin team because Kakashi showed them to him, etcetera

Obito didn't quite find himself minding Kakashi's habit of occasionally sending useless shit directly into his brain; Obito's plans have been rather boring to execute and Obito will take a nice change, even for a few seconds

There is a few times where they make it worse, though, images of Kakashi's apartment completely dark as Kakashi talks to Obito to calm himself, visions of Kakashi's hands burning in hot water, glimpses Of Kakashi getting injured

Obito didn't like those very much

But they came as a package deal when Obito gave Kakashi his eyes, which, even with everything that's happened, even with this world being hellish and even with Obito being able to name thousands of things he would like to change, is not something he regrets.

#teamminatoweek2022 #Kakashi Hatake #Rin Nohara #Obito Uchiha #this one's pretty short

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

“We have a problem,” Tim grumbled as he stumbled into the dining room. He threw the morning newspaper down on the table, letting it slide the last few feet until it stopped millimeters short of Bruce’s coffee.

Bruce sputtered his eggs and grabbed the paper, staring at the picture of him speaking with Marinette and Adrien that took up the entire front page above the fold. He threw the paper back on the table. “Son of a b…”

“We’ve been getting calls from PR all morning,” Tim interrupted him before Alfred got upset with Bruce for his language. “Because they’ve been getting calls from every newspaper, news station, blog, and interested citizen in the world, calling to ask them about it.”

Tim poured himself a large cup of coffee, larger than usual. He’d had patrol last night and gotten woken up at the crack of dawn this morning with calls about the story. So he was running on all of three hours of sleep and just wanted to crawl back into bed, but with this story, there was no chance of him getting to bed until after tonight’s patrol had already left.

It didn’t help that he was beating himself up for not picking up on the cues she was giving that night. He’d run into her. He and Stephanie had talked to her. He saw her freeze up when she realized who he was. He knew she was acting off, he just hadn’t thought it was nefarious. If anything, it seemed hurt, not scared. He should have caught onto her body language. He should have noticed how she seemed to freeze when he mentioned the family. She must have thought he was fishing, letting her know he was onto her and her plan to do this.

“You’d think after all the false alarms they’ve reported in the past that they’d know better by now. Not every black haired, blue eyed child is a Wayne. I’ve had PR draft up a statement that while we appreciate her support for the orphans, she is not, in fact, a Wayne,” he finished, taking a bite of his muffin, missing Bruce’s grimace.

Damian grabbed the paper, wrinkling it in his clenched fists as he scanned the text. “She must have orchestrated the whole thing to put this out. How else would they know these details?”

“No,” Dick commented thoughtfully, prying the paper away from Damian to take a look at the picture. “If she was in on it she would have put on a better act. Look at the image. She isn’t playing into it. She looks scared, not excited to ‘introduce her fiancé to her family’.” Dick quoted. He briefly scanned the paper for more information.

All the evidence appeared to be the picture, her physical features, and some call logs to her parent’s business. Dick scrunched up his face with concern. While not damning, it was interesting. He didn’t know any reason Bruce would have to contact a bakery in Paris. “Not to mention the story would have gone out yesterday for a bigger circulation boost. Sundays are the big press days. They wouldn’t have waited until Monday. That suggests they researched, or rather stole the information. And no quotes from her in here.”

“Fine,” Damian growled, acquiescing to his logic. “Maybe she did it after the fact. She saw the opportunity and took it.”

“No,” Bruce admitted quietly. “She wouldn’t have had to do that.” The room seemed to become still as everyone turned to face him. “If she wanted this story to go out she could have put it out at any time. And she would have played up the dance, would have sought me out at the gala. But she didn’t.”

“What dance?” Duke asked cautiously, his focus entirely on Bruce now.

“I asked her to dance. She said no. Ran away as quickly as she could actually,” Bruce chuckled self-deprecatingly as he stared at the paper in Dick’s hands.

Damian blinked at him as though the longer he stared the clearer what was happening would become. But no matter how hard he stared, the image didn’t become clearer. If anything, things became hazier. “This could all be a clever ruse. She wants to appear innocent so when you confront her she can point out that she didn’t do those things. It says she’s an aspiring designer. This could all be for publicity.”

“She wouldn’t have to go through all that,” Bruce stated again, more finality in his voice. He finally looked up, but still didn’t make eye contact with any of them.

Dick stared at Bruce, taking in his response, letting the words and their broader meaning sink in. The words he wasn’t saying hung in the room like thick smoke, winding their way into everything they touched, stealing the air out of the room. “What are you saying Bruce?” Dick asked cautiously

“The story’s true, isn’t it,” Tim observed. It was a statement more than a question.

Bruce nodded with a sigh. “Except for the meeting her fiancé part.”

Tim knew it was true even before Bruce’s verbal acknowledgement. The pieces suddenly fit together. It was the only thing that made sense. That’s why her reactions were off. That matched. He saw her face when they told her the gala was to celebrate family. He saw her body language change sharply when Stephanie joked about Bruce taking in everyone he saw. He wasn’t sure what to make of it at the time and didn’t really even try because it didn’t seem relevant and they had more important issues to think about, namely celebrating Duke. After the story, he thought the reactions were a tell. But now… now that he knew, they were a tell, but for something else entirely.

She was trying to be polite about it, not letting on how hard it was hitting. And oh God, didn’t that make it worse. Everything they said had been cordial, joking at Bruce’s expense, at their own expense. But with the new knowledge… it was at hers. They weren’t jokes, they were digs. They were attacks. They were him putting her ‘in her place’; out of the family. Tim took in a shuttering breath and collapsed on the couch, his head in his hands.

He would have so much to apologize for. He would have to find her and make sure she knew he didn’t mean his words the way they must have come across. He knew how it felt to not be accepted. He knew how it felt to not feel loved by your parents. He knew how it felt to have your place in the family questioned constantly, to be attacked, to be unwelcome. He wouldn’t wish that on enemies, let alone family.

“Who is she, Father?” Damian demanded.

Bruce met his eyes, guilt swimming in his own. “She’s your half-sister. Her mother and step-father have been raising her in Paris,” Bruce answered calmly.

Damian fought the gasp his lungs demanded against his will. His father was confirming it. He was acknowledging her. But never trusted them with the information. “Were you ever going to tell us?” Damian finally asked with forced coolness

“I was letting the dust settle on introducing Duke before I broached it,” Bruce hedged.

“So you just found out,” Damian asked angrily. That would make sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, him. It was that he didn’t know until recently. Of course that was what happened.

“No.”

Damian gaped at him, his hastily built protective construct shattering with one word. “How long have you known?”

“Since she was born.” Damian gaped at him. He’d known. He’d known since before Damian came to live with them and still never told them. He didn’t trust him. Even after all he’d done, he still didn’t trust him. And now he was letting this unknown, this daughter, even just thinking the word made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, do whatever she wanted. He trusted her but not him.

“You have a daughter, a biological daughter you’ve known about for decades and that you never told us about,” Dick asked again in a daze. He fell into a chair staring at Bruce incredulously. There was no way. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He loved kids. He loved his kids. Why would he send one away? He hadn’t even wanted to do that to Jason.

“So I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know?” Duke asked. He looked around, taking in the stunned, disbelieving, hurt expressions.

“Not just you,” Damian gritted out.

Duke sucked in a breath and pulled out his phone, texting Jason and Cass to let them know what was happening. They were going to want to know as soon as possible too. All of them were going to have questions and issues with this information. And if the conversation went on much longer, they may want to be involved.

“Why was she there last night? What did she want? Surely she wouldn’t have come without a plan,” Damian pressed. Nobody had access to the kind of power and money they had and just walked away. If she was presenting herself and not to them, to the press, there must be a reason, a plot. They needed to find out more about her to figure it out. “How did she get a ticket in the first place?” That might be a place to start. It would give an insight into her accomplices and they could be pressed later for more information.

Bruce sighed and looked back down at his food, pushing the plate away, no longer hungry in the slightest. “I can’t answer how she got her ticket. As to why she was there, she was there to talk about a position for a friend of hers… with Lucius apparently, not me.”

“She was using her name to get her subpar friend a job,” Damian spat in disgust. There had to be more though. With their name, she could get much, much more. This had to be an opening gambit. The job must be placing an operative, loyal to her, within their institution. Next was the stunt with the press. They needed to figure out her next steps.

“No,” Bruce insisted. “She didn’t mention her association. He doesn’t know… well, he does now. He spoke to me after the gala, said he discovered one of our managers is stealing ideas and there was someone he was going to spend the weekend researching but he was excited about hiring him. Luthor is trying to hire him, so if we don’t act fast we’ll lose him. I’m betting that was her friend.”

“You don’t know that,” Damian growled out. “That could be a coincidence.”

“I’ll confirm with Lucius today, but it fits with what I know,” Bruce insisted calmly. “From what her mother has told me over the years, it’s the kind of thing she would do; go well out of her way to help a friend. And her mother let me know she was planning on attending the gala to talk about hiring her friend. I just thought she was going to talk to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell us,” Dick asked breathlessly. He was staring at Bruce with hurt saturating his eyes. He heard nothing after Bruce admitting he’d known about her and never told them. He was aware Bruce had been saying things for the last few minutes but none of it had registered. None of it was what he needed to know.

Bruce sighed and ran his hand over his face. “Nobody knew. Nobody but me and her mother and step-father. It was easier that way.” Easier to pretend was left unsaid. Easier for Bruce to pretend like he hadn’t cut her out of his life, like he didn’t regret it every day. Easier for Bruce to try to forget.

“Not even her?” Duke asked.

“Not even her,” Bruce confirmed with a sigh. He ran his hand over his face.

“Why?” Dick was staring at him in wide eyed confusion. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He’d been with Bruce for twenty years and never heard a whisper of a biological daughter. But she existed. And he knew. Bruce took a deep breath and Dick scowled. “I swear to God, B, if you say some dumbass excuse like to protect her…”

“She has a happy life. Her mother and step-father love her beyond words. They support her, love her, encourage her. They’re there for her whenever she needs it. They never miss an event. Family dinners every night. She has friends… a good life. She’s safe. She never had to worry about defending herself. She never had to be taught what to do when she got kidnapped. Never had to… doesn’t remember seeing the people around her dead from the latest rogue attack. Not like what she would have here…” he again left the last part of the sentence off. The “with me” was left for everyone to fill in on their own.

“You’re a good father,” Tim assured him weakly, because at this point, with this information…

“I hope so.” Bruce gave him a weak smile. “But when she was born… I had an obligation. I had a responsibility.”

“She was your responsibility!” Dick yelled, his face suddenly contorting in anger and frustration with Bruce.

Bruce looked away stoically, face suddenly a mask devoid of emotion. “She had a better option and I made sure she got it.”

The room was silent for a few moments while his words settled in. The only sound was Dick seething in his seat. “But she doesn’t know you? You never visited. You never interacted with her. Even not telling her who you were to her,” Tim clarified.

Bruce shook his head. “I visited her final project for her degree a few weeks ago under the guise of research for the fabric project. She’s a designer. I was hoping to get her in on the fabric project. I thought it would be a good cover to get her comfortable with the family. But I didn’t talk with her while I was there.” He chuckled slightly at the memory. “I couldn’t even get close. There were too many people talking to her, congratulating her, offering her internships. Her work was beautiful.”

“But you’ve talked with her parents,” Tim checked.

He sighed and waved his hand helplessly. “I spoke with Sabine every so often to check on Marinette, make sure she was okay. I helped pay for her schooling, but even that was disguised as an investment into her parents’ company.”

“So her parents were having you pay for their company, holding the secret over your head,” Damian spat out.

“No!” Bruce growled. He knew Damian was having a hard time with this. Hell, that’s one of the main reasons he waited so long, because he knew Damian wouldn’t react well. Damian would have taken it as an attack on his position in the family. And after the way he treated Tim and Dick when he first found out about them… They could protect themselves against his attacks. She wouldn’t have been able to. He didn’t know how far Damian would actually go and he didn’t want Damian to have to find out either. He had been waiting until Damian was more settled, more secure in the family and their unconditional love for him before he reached out to her. But he wasn’t going to let him disparage Sabine and Tom. They’d been nothing but understanding.

“They only let me put in the amount for tuition. They wouldn’t allow me to give any more than that and Marinette got a scholarship for her university so she didn’t need any assistance. I tried to keep giving them money for her to at least have spending money but they refused. They stopped accepting the transfers. They only relented when I said it would look suspicious. So they’ve been creating a trust for her with it.”

Damian grumbled and looked away. Whatever their game was, they were certainly good at it.

Bruce dropped his head into his hands. “Nobody was supposed to know about her until I was sure it was safe,” Bruce grumbled into his hands. “Until I’d had a chance to talk to everyone about it.”

“Well now everyone knows, so maybe now is a good time to start trying to make that connection,” Dick growled.

“If she’ll let us,” Tim added. He remembered the look in her eyes when he talked about his… their family.

“It’s never too late to start trying to bond,” Dick insisted. His eyes were bordering on wild. They could bring this back, right? The family had come back from worse. They’d faced steeper hills. Hell, Damian tried to kill them when he first came. Jason had also tried to kill them all more than once when he came back. She couldn’t be that bad. They just had to make the first move. “We just have to let her know we want to.”

Tim shook his head and looked down, not at all convinced it really was as easy as that. Tim was awkward on a good day. He could make friends but usually they made the first move. He was pretty certain she wouldn’t make the first move in this instance. Damian wouldn’t accept her, period. Dick would crowd her. Jason would… whatever Jason did, probably disappear. She wasn’t a Robin so he probably wouldn’t try to kill her. Cass would try, but her success depended on Marinette understanding what Cass wasn’t saying. And Bruce… Bruce was never good at understanding emotions or sympathizing. Honestly, their best hope was Duke.

Duke breathed out a deep sigh and looked away. This family was not easy to get along with or find your place with. And bonding with each other? He managed because he fought next to them. They bonded in the field, in their suits. He wasn’t sure if they realized that about themselves. If they interacted outside the suits it was because of the bond they formed inside them. She wouldn’t have that opportunity and without it… The prognosis was not good.

“What are you going to do, B?” Tim asked tentatively. “Because whatever your plans were, now she knows and she’s dealing with it on her own. She… You need to talk to her.”

Bruce sucked in a breath and massaged his temples. “I know.”

“And you need to apologize,” Dick added firmly.

Bruce nodded. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Dick growled. “You have no idea what has to be going through her head right now.” He grabbed his bag and stalked out of the manor, slamming the door as he left.

“And you need to decide what we’re going to tell the public,” Tim added. “We need to put a statement out soon.”

“I know,” Bruce agreed. His voice this time was more detached. That was something he would have to decide, but that wasn’t the priority right now and not something he wanted to do without her input.

He needed to come up with a new plan and quickly. This was nothing like the one he had come up with. He was supposed to have more time. He was supposed to be able to ease into this. He was supposed to be able to feel things out before deciding a path. He was supposed to control the environment and how his family found out.

But now he was thrown into it, they all were, and he had no idea how to proceed. He didn’t know her well enough to anticipate how she would react to the situation or to him. He didn’t know her well enough yet to know the best way to approach her. He needed to come up with a game plan. He sighed heavily. He had to get into the office, not show anything out of the ordinary. And once he was behind his office door, he could talk to Sabine. She would know what to do.

Chapter 5

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - bonding

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iwantutobehapppier · 3 years

Text

Uninvited

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader, Bucky x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky end up stranded in a safe house after a mission. Should be fine, except your early heat and Bucky’s secrets.

Warnings: +18 only. Smut, knotting, A/B/O stuff, dubcon

Word Count: 3,401

A/N: Okay this is for the 6th Night of Chanukah. So sorry for the delay. I really hope you guys enjoy and I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. I’ll read it back over later.

Bucky observed your mannerisms from the pilot seat of the Quinjet. Your scent was becoming musty and he knew exactly what that meant. In fact, his whole body knew, the way he would naturally gravitate to you when your scent took on this unique change. The raging hard-ons and the… nocturnal emissions. He felt like a teenage boy when your heat came closer.

He wasn’t sure this mission was a good idea for the two of you. It was an expected smash and grab then lay low but with your oncoming heat, faster than he recalled last time, Bucky wasn’t sure about your safety.

Not from the targets. No, you could hold your own.

Your safety from him.

Bucky wouldn’t call himself feral by any means as an Alpha but to say he was untethered around an omega was putting it lightly. Specifically you. Your smell even without the musky allure of on-coming heat is entrancing to him. He was never sure how to broach the topic of the two of you, after all, he’d have to confess to something Sam playfully jab at him about.

But Steve knew better. Bucky was a one Omega kind of Alpha, as was Steve. That’s how it was ingrained in them and no amount of brainwashing could undo instincts.

Landing the jet you jump out of your seat to get your gear on for the mission.

However, Bucky did have one other issue when it came to talking about any of this with you, your avoidance of him if at all possible one on one.

He assumes it’s his overbearing Alpha presence, in the past Omega’s had commented on his scent which made him stay clear of them. What was worse and unthinkable was your avoidance due to his past with Hydra.

You’d lost everything to them at a young age when your powers came out in their warpath to obtain you.

Shaking the thoughts from his head he clears his head to focus on the task at hand. He knew focusing would be instrumental in the success of this mission, given the thickening of your scent. Setting the autopilot to return the Quinjet he confirms the location of the safe house before exiting the Jet so it can return.

The mission was barely a success, while you and Bucky had been able to take out guards from afar your scent was spreading and alerting the enemy of your arrival. Bucky had taken lead, making you stay farther back. And finally told to go get a car for travel to the safe house

Huffing out in frustration you kicked dirt up making your way towards the already cleared front entrance. The last thing you wanted to show in front of Bucky was weakness, he was a man of duty and efficacy. He was an Alpha you admired and fantasizes about. The last thing you needed to be was a thorn in his side.

After all, you put so much effort into being an exemplary team member, not being in the way, only noticed when doing what needs to be done. Effective and unnoticeable. It was how you lived your life.

Your oncoming heat due to your designation was ruining your first duo mission with Bucky, and honestly, you would rather be shot in the head. To be an inconvenience and deterrent on a mission, to be one to Bucky no less. It made your chest squeeze, your growing heat scent sour.

Locating a quick get-away car you pull out your kit to unlock the door, your mind wandering as you began the task of hotwiring, something you could do in your sleep after years of “borrowing” cars.

What if he was hurt because you didn’t have his back?

Worse, your mind supplied, what if he’s disgusted by your heat?

Oh, that hurt.

Your stupid heat wasn’t supposed to be starting for another two days, let alone pre-heat scent spikes. Though, if you were honest the last couple of heats had been irregular in starting. One even started without any lead-up, just bam you were ruining your clothes and craving a knot like an Omega on her first heat.

It was embarrassing, and thank god Bucky had left the common room well before it started. When Nat found you, you let a comment slip that Bucky was nearby but wasn’t affected by your smell. She simply scoffed mentioning something cryptic about only one Omega for Bucky.

At that moment you thought nothing was as embarrassing as that, well tonight you proved yourself wrong. This was the most embarrassing thing ever. Certainly, after this, you’d be on desk duty for a while until your heats got under control.

The loud explosion signals Bucky’s success in taking down the hideout you wait for him to appear and he does making a brisk jog for you. Once in the car, you take off. The only conversation between the two of you his instructions to the safe house. His hand over his nose was enough to keep you silent and compliant. Clearly, your scent had gotten worse.

You two make it to the small cabin 2 hours later, and you’re sweating even in the cool temp. You tired to air the car out but the open windows only proved to push Bucky’s smell directly in your path and that only made your thighs clench, slipper with your slick. You watching Bucky shift in the seat in what you assumed was uncomfortable at your growing arousal. Missing when his metal hand rubbed on the growing erection trying to soothe his own ache.

You both jump out of the car once parked needing out of the confined space of smells, desperate to put some walls between each other. Yours out of shame, Bucky’s out of necessity.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle this. He’d never been around an Omega in their heat, sure pre and post but never right in the thick of it. He was a faithful man about Omega’s, if he’s with one that’s the one. Wringing his hand he heard you cry out in pain. He may not have experienced an Omega in their heat but he knew you didn’t have anything here to help you go through this. But he did.

He had the thing you needed, and god did he want to give it to you. You whimper out, even with a wall between you two the sound carried as if he was beside you. He was getting restless, the longer your scent permeated the air, the harder it would be for him to keep his distance. Bucky would rather have this conversation now while you were both somewhat coherent before he did something he’d regret later without permission.

With wide steps, he finds himself in front of the door where you laid. Bucky inhales deep and it was a mistake, the voracious growl he can’t stop from smelling you scares him, and the hint of sour in your smell scared you too.

Knocking is the only thing he can manage to do, the doorknob in his metal hand crunching under pressure. When you call for him to enter the knob falls and he pushes the door open. Taking a tentative step in he sees you on the bed.

Curled up, simply in your bra and underwear, skin shining with sweat or slick depending upon where he looked. The smell was better than anything he’d ever smelt.

Smelling Bucky closer, you felt your abdomen spasm and more slick produce from you. Your body readying you for the Alpha who smelled so tantalizing and forbidden. Not bothering lifting your head to see the sexual temptation of this Alpha your voice muffled. “Unless you’re here to help you need to leave now.”

“I,” Bucky pauses, “I want to help but I gotta tell you something first.” Closing your eyes tightly you were dreading his next words. Obviously, it would be just sex for him, what good are you to an Alpha such as Bucky Barnes?

“Go on,” you nod your head trying to hide your rejection before he can speak by keeping your head down in the bed, but he catches the faint sourness in your sent. He won’t let it deter him though.

“You know I’ve never been with an omega,” Bucky shifted awkwardly at his confession. Your head lifted looking at him in barely disguised shock. Never been with an Omega? It seemed unlikely, perhaps he meant since Hydra.

“Even before?” You paused not wanting to elaborate on what before was, doing your best to ignore the growing slick and cramping frequency.

“Yeah, even before. Just beta’s.” His head bobbing up and down, the metal hand running through his short locks a nervous tick you found endearing. But now, with this new knowledge, you were trepidacious.

“So what, am I some kind of uncharted territory for you to conquer?” Bucky’s eyes widen at your words, baffled you would think so little of him but then again what actions has he taken to show otherwise he thought to himself.

“What?! No! I just-” His backpedaling was annoying, you could be just sex, it would be hard to work together afterward but to be a conquest, an experiment that’s just too far.

“The connection between an Alpha and Omega is tantric and pure during a heat, you can’t do this because you just want to see what it’s like,” your ire making the room smell of burnt hair.

“I would never-” He tries once more to take control of the conversation but god you were stubborn.

“Cause Bucky if you just think I’m an object that you carve one minute and-” He cuts you off, voice raised.

“Will you let me talk!?” The boom in his voice making you cower at reflex from a loud Alpha. Your pheromones pushing out a pleasant scent to calm him.

“I’m doin’ this because I care about you,” Bucky looks down while your eyes round at his confession, you sit up on your knees edging towards the end of the bead. “I think about you a lot, and not just cause your smell is everywhere Omega.”

Looking up you’re in front of him, his eyes widen to match yours. He’s never called you by your designation before, your name, and maybe on the rare chance doll but never this. Your scent permeates the air around him.

“If we do this-”

“Okay Alpha,” your voice more confident than it had been since Bucky broached this subject.

He knew he should tell you he’d mate you, that nothing would stop him but he couldn’t find it in him with your consent, and the way you smell he fell. In an instant Bucky is on you, lips colliding, fingers digging into your flesh. You mutter against his lips. He pulls away only a fraction.

“Nest,” you whimper, slick pooling down your legs. “I need a nest.” Nodding his head as Bucky doesn’t trust his voice he kisses you once more only to disappear out the door.

When he returns he has the pillows from the couch, a throw blanket, and even some couch back cushions. Leaving once more he finds the laundry room and grabs all the blankets and sheets he can before dumping them on the bed. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up when he returns.

He leaves to get more but you call out his name. He turns back to you with a brow raised. “This is enough but clothes, I need clothes. I need your clothes.” You inform pulling your shirt from the ground where you had ripped your clothes of for reprieve from your heat.

“Right,” He rips his jacket, sweater, and undershirt off throwing them in front of you before taking his pants off to do the same.

You’re body humming with giddiness as you build the nest with his scent and yours slowly molding together to give a safe space. Too consumed in your task you miss the shift on the bed, Bucky coming behind your bent form tucking his pants into the intricate weaving you had done with the clothes and sheets.

Rough warm hand and cool sleek metal land only your hips. You whimper at the feeling, falling into the just set nest.

“Oh sweet Omega,” voice enticing against your ear while he leans over you. His chest barely touching your back but you can feel the heat radiating off of him. His arms slip down yours, intertwining your fingers. Suddenly he falls back pulling you with him to hand in his lap.

He’s hot, so hot, or maybe it’s you? You wiggle on his lap, feeling his erection bare against your covered back end. He shimmies you on his lap, the space allowing for his engorged cock to jut out between your legs.

You salivate at the sight of his large cock twitch. “You see that Omega?” a tingle slips down your spine at his rough voice in your ear.

He reaches down with his flesh hand holding your hand he wraps your fingers around the base, feeling the beginning of his knot swelling. It’s just the faintest bulge to the eyes but in your hands, it feels fully formed. You know it’s not, your omega instincts tell you it’s not but you shake your head anyway.

“Too big,” is all you can get out, heat consuming any syntax.

“Oh my sweet omega,” mewling at his endearing words he chuckles. “It’s not even near popped, but it will be.” his hand leaves yours holding him. “Once I’m rooted deep here.” His hand covers your mound, pushing the soaked fabric to the side he slips his fingers between our swollen folds. Twirling fingers along your clit you buck on top of him, crying out.

“I think my Omega is ready,” you writhe against him, moaning in agreement at his words. You were beyond ready, you had been ready the moment you stepped into this cabin but you had to wait. Had to wait for your alpha “Present.”

Your omega instincts move you immediately to your hands and knees. Bucky’s metal hand slides up your spine to between your shoulder blades pushing you down to your elbows and your ass up higher. Satisfied with your position he raises to his knees.

Pulling your underwear down to your bent knees at the same time he takes his red cock weeping cum from the tip. He feels something crawling just below the surface, a sensation he’s never had when fucking a beta.

It had been bubbling at the surface when he began to smell you but now, with you presenting, his cock head slotted at your entrance you rock back pushing his cock head but not entering just yet, needing more force to take such a bulbous tip, something is slipping away.

No, you shouldn’t be trying to take it. He snarls at your movements and you freeze. Satisfied at your response he pushes in, it’s almost impossible, but when he swivels his hips and growls your name he’s in. Then he’s pushing all the way in, your walls suffocating him, struggling to take him. But you will take him. Slick is pouring around him and out of you, your body desperate to take everything he gives.

Blood is rushing in his ears, he can barely make out the sounds you are making. All he can feel is your body beneath his, the way he’s dominating you, how your pheromones release the most exquisite sweet smell when he enters you. Had he known, if he had only known…

“Bucky,” you sigh in relief when he bottoms out, your full, more full than any time you could recall. It was like he was made to reach every part of you. He growls out and you’re quick to correct yourself. “Alpha.”

“Fu-uck,” he gets out, eyes squeezed tight. “I never knew-” he can’t finish his words.

“I know,” you concur, “I know.”

He pulls back and slams into you faster than you’re prepared for. You wail and your arms collapse under you but you turn your head, pushing one side of your face into the mattress that smells like you, like Bucky. Together.

Fingers dig into the sheets, drool pouring out your mouth and your eyes roll back when he pulls back to shove himself back in you, your body jerking forward at the force.

Something wicked is climbing up Bucky’s back with each thrust, the sensation mudding his brain but it’s different from the brainwashing. It’s different from anything else he’s ever felt. It’s part of him but something he’s not familiar with. As he continues to thrust back and forth you move with him.

He holds your hips still, hissing as he slowly pulls back. Punishing you for trying to take control. A pitiful wail falls from your mouth when he eases his hips forward into you. “You are mine Omega,”

You nod your head against the bed, anything to stop this slow pace. “You will submit to your alpha.” You whimper out a scratchy “Yes Alpha.” It’s enough.

He pounds into you, no not pound, pummels. His pace is fast, unforgiving, and more pleasurable than anything you’ve felt before.

Your hair falls in front of you, displaying your mating gland to him. It calls to him, the rush of blood making it swell, preparing for him, for his mark. He just knew it. Never mind it was always inflamed during an omega’s heat.

The wet slap of flesh meeting, his staggered breaths, your moans growing in volume, the taste of your sweat when he licks a trail up your back, the smell of your fluids combined that’s squelching out with each thrust, it’s all a new symphony to his senses.

One that sends him further to the place he’s wanted to be for decades. When he swivels his hips moving in and then out of you you’re crying, gushing out around him, cumming so suddenly you’re gasping for breath.

Your limp but Bucky holds you up by your waist, Your plaint body swaying with his thrusts, never once losing his tempo. He’s chasing something, something a fleeting thought that he may not want to do so but it was too late. Too late and too good.

When you finally regain the sensation of your body he’s never stopped once. For a moment you’re worried but remember Bucky is more than a simple Alpha. He knows you’ve returned to your sense before you can say anything.

He hooks his arms in yours, pulling them back behind you at your elbow joint. Thrusting wildly your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“Are you ready to take my knot?” He growls, his voice is deeper than anytime you’ve heard before. If it wasn’t for the heat fuzziness overtaking you maybe you’d register the warning sign.

“Yes Alpha, please.” You whine instead, begging for what your body craves, the very reason you’re in this position.

“Are you ready to be marked?” He nuzzles into your neck, licking your mating gland. Something doesn’t feel right about that.

“Alpha?” Your head moves to the side to move him away but Bucky remains steadfast in his attention on your gland.

“Mine forever,” his voice is garbled, you’re fairly certain his smell has taken on a spicier sent. He’s in a rut. The base of his cock is swelling, catching almost in the last thrust. He pushes in all the way and it pops.

“No!” you try to struggle but he has you prone to his desires. “What are you-”

It’s so much at once, his knot is caught and you feel his cum flooding your insides. Nothing slipping out at the pulsing knot keeping you sealed

You cry out when his teeth land on your matting gland piercing with ease. The groan that vibrates from his chest shakes you. There’s a pop and then snap sensation that reverberates through your whole body as the mark takes.

He pulls his teeth back, licking and humping against you, pushing himself further into you though it’s impossible to give you more his instincts demand he is rooted to you. After a few more seconds he is rolling you both to your side, releasing your arms and warping his around you to cocoon you in his sent.

“You’re it for me,” his voice is rough but he sounds like your Bucky. “There’s no choice.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #alpha bucky #omega reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #James bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #smut #18+ only

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #england national team #england national team imagine #football fics #footballer fics #footie fics

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,” Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

2K notes · View notes

goodwriterwithbadhabits · 3 years

Text

Want Me

This is, a lot more than anything I've ever written, but I hope you like it.

Master List

When Chan had told Stays he had a gift for them today, you had anticipated something like the valentines date. Maybe even Hyunjin’s surprise appearance. What you definitely weren’t expecting was your boyfriend to basically strip in front of literally the whole world.

“Oh. My god.” Your reaction was subconscious, and totally not something you wanted your roommate, Sungmi, to hear. Your eyes were the size of saucers as you stared at your phone.

“What’s up?” Her interest was piqued the second you made a sound, and being you, you did the one thing you could think of.

You threw your phone as far from yourself as possible.

The two of you watch it sail across the living room and land safely in the dirty clothes hamper neither of you had moved from the hallway to the washer.

“Uh, you good?”

“Wow, look at that laundry!” You exclaim, “Someone should go do it.” You can’t even jump up from the couch when her hand is wrapping around your ankle, pulling you onto the floor.

“Was it Chan’s performance?” Your face immediately goes crimson. “No,” You lie, poorly. “What performance? I didn’t even know he was performing. I should go do the laundry.” You’re talking like you’re the flash, and while she’s attempting to figure out what you said, you attempt to wrench your leg from her grip. Unfortunately her brain power is faster that you can get your arms under you, though you do manage to yank her off the couch with you.

“Get back here!” She huffs, yanking you closer to her and somehow managing to sit on your pelvis. “You saw the Wolfgang performance didn’t you?” She demands, but your answer is more struggling to knock her over. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/n.” She drops forward, pinning your arms by your head, and if she were literally anyone else, you would probably think this was super hot.

“Curse your shockingly strong legs.”

“Nine years of waterpolo.” She explains.

“Really? Damn, I should start playing.”

“You’re stalling.”

“No I’m not.” You lie, again. She rolls her eyes, dropping her head a little more to knock her forehead against yours. “Ow.”

“Be honest with me.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not.” She bonks your head again, “Stop lying.”

“Will you get off me?”

“When we’re done talking.”

“Then yes, I saw Chan’s Wolfgang performance.” She nods, letting go of your hands to sit up properly and crush your pelvis a little more.

“I thought it was pretty hot.” She confesses and you feel something bubble in your chest. You can’t help the slight twitch in your brows and of course she notices. “Ah! Jealousy!”

“I’m not jealous.” She taps your forehead, aggressively enough to hurt a little. “Ow.”

“You can’t lie to a Psychology major.”

“I’m not-” She raises her finger again and you relent. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m not a huge fan of someone telling me they think my boyfriend is hot to my face.”

“Did you think it was hot?” Your face grows warm and you have to bite back an embarrassed smile.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You don’t have to. You’d be stupid to think otherwise.”

“Especially when he was in the white shirt.” You admit, and she nods.

“You should see if he’ll wear something like that next time you two decide to get all hot and heavy.” Your face flushes again, not really wanting to discuss your sexlife with someone you’ve only actually known for about seven months.

“Um yeah, totally.”

“Oh my god. You guys don’t do stuff!”

“We do stuff!” You defend, immediately regretting it.

“Oh really? Ever used handcuffs?” On him, or me?

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“So that's a no. How about, have you ever sent him a nude?” Oh, if only you knew.

“Get off me.”

“Another no.” She grins, “I’m shocked, he seems like such a feisty boy, you’d think he’d do stuff.” “Seriously, get off.” There’s no humor in your voice now. It wasn’t her place to tell you about your own boyfriend, and you were getting sick of her forcing her way into your love life.

“Oh come on Y/n.” She doesn’t get another word out before you grab her leg and wrench her sideways. Instead of just tossing her onto the floor, you find yourself slamming your hand into the floor by her head, now leaning over her.

“Stay out of my love life, do you hear me?” You practically growl, “I don’t need your help to please my boyfriend.” Her eyes go wide at your words, and you instantly become aware of your positions when a smirk paints itself on her face.

“My, my Y/n. I didn’t peg you as someone who’d be on top.”

“Clearly.” You reply. “Now are you quite done?”

“Have you ever topped him? He seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t like that.”

“Once again, I don’t have to answer that.”

“You should try it. Something tells me you’ll like it.”

“Shut up.”

“I hate you.” It had been hours since your rather sexually charged conversation with her, and here you were standing at her doorway seeking advice. You hadn’t stopped thinking about what she had said, but in all honesty, Chan was your first, so you had no clue what you were doing most of the time.

“Oh? Is that why you’re looking all lost and confused at my door?” Her voice is sickeningly sweet as she looks at you in the mirror. “What up?”

“I need advice.”

“Wear black, it looks good on everyone.” Her gaze shifts back to her reflection, where she’s curling her hair for a date.

“About Chan.” Her attention turns back to you in an instant and you’re tempted to run back to your room.

“In what sense?”

“What you said earlier.” A wicked grin spreads on her face. “Have a seat darling.” You trudge over to her bed, sitting on the trunk at the end to watch her. “First off, tell me this, who initiates sex usually?”

“He does.” You admit quietly. “Babe, if you want my help, you gotta be able to talk about sex without turning into a tomato. I mean, how are you sexually active and still blushing like a virgin. Next you're going to tell me you only do it missionary with the lights off.”

“Well…” Her mouth drops open in horror.

“Oh my god.” She gasps. “No wonder you’re all annoyed these days. You’re not satisfied.”

“Hey, he gets me off,” You defend, “And he’s very good at it.” You practically swoon just thinking about it. She raises her hands in surrender, but smiles at your answer.

“Have you ever asked him for oral?”

“How the hell do I bring that up in casual conversation? Just “Hey babe, you did wonderful today, do you want to eat me out’.”

“Well if it works.”

“No.”

“Okay, have you ever worn lingerie for him?”

“No, but I did buy something to wear a few months ago.” She nods, approving.

“How come you’ve never worn it?”

“Between Kingdom and the fact that he lives with seven other men, there hasn’t exactly been a time and place.”

“That’s fair. When do you guys usually do it? What’s it like? Just broad details.”

“He tells me he wants to spend the night. I usually get a hotel room, since my parents are still sending me money for rent, and we arrive at separate times. Its usually really sweet and slow.”

“And after?” She prompts.

“We shower, and cuddle. He usually leaves first cause he has practice or something.”

“Ever done it in the shower?” You shake your head, shoulders slumping as you realize how lame everything sounds.

“I really like him, but I think, especially since you said he seems like a kinky type, what if he’s not as into me?”

“I don’t think that’s the case.” She turns her chair towards you, setting a hand on your knee. “I think you’re both too nervous to broach the subject. I know this is your first real relationship, and it might be his too.”

“So, what should I do?”

“Start simple.” She turns back to her mirror, “You should book a room, and jazz it up a little. Rose petals, candles, maybe that set you bought. That way its obvious you want him.”

“That's not a bad idea.”

“Even better! I will go halfsies on one of the fancy hotels with you. I know one that has these huge bathtubs so you can take one together, and the shower has a stone floor, so its not slippery. Oh! We can get you a pretty silk robe, so you can do the dramatic reveal.”

“This sounds like a lot. How about for now, I just do the candles and the set?” She laughs, clearly embarrassed by the way she fiddles with her necklace.

“Sounds like a plan. You can do the big one for your anniversary.” You nod, agreeing with her.

“I can do it tonight, he’ll probably want some stress relief after that performance.” You offer her a sly smile, jumping up to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” She calls after you.

“I gotta go buy some candles.”

Hey lover, come meet me. *Y/n shared her location*

You glanced over at the message again as you adjusted the black lace garterbelt. Sungmi had been right, black did look amazing on everyone. He had read the message, and if you were lucky, he was too busy driving over to text you back. You slid the black skirt up your legs, loving the way it stopped just under the edge of the thigh highs. The last piece was a simple t shirt, it was a little ripped and hung off one shoulder, just giving a slight peekaboo of the bra you had spent way too much money on. If Chan didn’t combust from seeing you in this, you were going to have a fun night.

Carefully you moved your things out of the main room, tucking them in the closet for safe keeping, and began lighting the candles. The sweet aroma of vanilla and lavender wafted through the room as you shut the lights off. You settled on the edge of the bed, taking a few risque selfies to show Sungmi and maybe send Chan later.

And then you waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Babe?

Three hours, that's how long you’d been waiting before you finally texted him again, having run out of excuses for the man.

“Sorry babe, I was working. Do you still want me to come to you?”

Not really, after this long, the wonder had worn off, and you just felt stupid and hurt. Of course he wasn’t going to come if you asked.

No. Its fine.

Actually, I want to talk to you. Are you still at the studio?

You set your phone down, turn the lights back on and begin blowing out candles. You don’t bother changing, just grab your sneakers and your bag before heading out, tucking your key and phone in your bra as you leave the building.

With some take out in hand you make your way to the JYP building, not at all surprised to see several lights still on.

“Woah, hel-lo Y/n.” You instantly smile at Jae’s greeting, which is followed by Brian’s whistle. “You look like a full course meal, girl.”

“Hey boys, what had you here so late, its past midnight?”

“Oh we were just-” Jae glances over at Brian who clears his throat.

“Just working. What about you?”

“Chan’s still working, so I brought some food.” You shrug, heading towards the elevators, “Have a good night.

“You too.” You have to bite your lip so you don’t laugh at Brian smacking Jae’s shoulder, earning a whine from the taller boy.

The lights from the studios are all off when you arrive, but you can see the glow of the computer shining from Chan’s. You knock as you open the door, making him jump and yank his headphones off when the light from the hall hits him. His face lights up in a smile when he sees you. Of course, he’s wearing super tight jeans and a black button up, neither of which were not helping you relax.

“Oh hey baby, I didn’t know you were coming.” He stands to greet you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I texted you.” You tell him, which has him looking guilty.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear it when I’m working.” You smile reassuringly at him.

“That's okay, I know, that’s why I just came over.” You hold up the bag of take out, “I also brought food since you forget to eat when you start working.”

“You are the light of my life.” He sighs, kissing you properly this time as he takes the bag. Your heart flutters from his words, some of the butterflies in your stomach coming back from the dead. You sit across from him, stealing his work chair as he spreads the food out on the table and digs in. It takes him a few minutes to notice that you’re just staring, and he finally stops eating to say something, “You okay? How come you aren’t eating?”

“I already ate.” You lie, but he sees right through it, setting his chopsticks down to look at you properly. You watch his eyes rake across your body, finally seeing the lace stockings and the matching bra.

“That’s not it. You’re disappointed.” He realizes, “You looked the same way when you saw I.Ns grades.” He explains before you can even open your mouth to answer. “I know its not our anniversary, and your birthday already passed.”

“Its nothing babe. I just had a stupid idea for tonight.” The words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them. He looks at your outfit again and a cheeky smile begins to grow on his face.

“Were you-? But you never-” He lets out a deep breath, followed by a small giggle, which doesn’t make you feel better.

“I should head home.” You spring up, heading towards the door. “Enjoy your dinner.” He catches your arm before you get too far, pulling you back to wrap his arms around you.

“What did you have planned, baby girl?” Your heart flutters at the pet name, and the low tone his voice had taken on. “You wouldn’t have gotten all dressed up like this for nothing.” HIs free hand trails down your side, coming to the edge of your skirt, where his fingers find the skin just above the top of your stockings.

“Maybe I just wanted to make sure you want me as much as I want you.” You confess.

“Baby girl.” His voice is soft now, “Of course I want you.” His lips brush the skin of your neck as he speaks, sending shivers across your whole body.

“Then how come we never do anything interesting?”

“Like what?” Your confidence grows as you turn to face him, looping a finger through the choker he wears.

“Maybe I don’t want to do the same thing every time we fuck.” You can see from the way his eyebrows hike up that he’s startled by your words, hell, you were startled by them. “Maybe I want to see you.” Your other hand moves up to his face, trailing your thumb over his lips. “Maybe I don’t always want to be in a bed, in the dark, on my back. Maybe I want to be in charge.”

“I don’t think you could handle that baby girl.” He bites at your thumb as he finishes his sentence.

“Try me, Chris.” You challenge. His hands come up to your cheeks, pulling you in for a searing kiss. For a few seconds, your brain forgets what you had just challenged. He doesn’t help as he pulls away from your lips, his trailing across your cheek and down your neck.

“Sit.” You order, pulling away, trying to keep your breathing steady and not let on how affected you were.

“Excuse me?”

“Sit. Down.” You order again, shoving him lightly towards his computer chair. He backs up slowly, collapsing into it, eyes never leaving you.

“What are you doing?” He asks as you turn away from him.

“Proving a point.” You declare, the click of his lock emphasizing your words.

“Oh?” You turn back to him, finding him relaxed as ever, watching you with his legs spread wide. You saunter towards him, standing between his legs, hands on the arm rests. “You really think you can handle this baby?”

“If I impress you, you’ll save your work and we head over to the hotel.”

“And if you don’t?”

“You save your work and we head over to the hotel anyway.”

“Bet.”

“You might regret that, baby.” You push on the chair, sending it back until it connects with his desk.

“Oh really?” He asks, as you push his knees together slightly so you can straddle his lap. Your fingers trail from his shoulders down to the buttons on his shirt, popping them open one at a time.

“You talk too much.” You tell him, leaning forward to press kisses along his neck. Just as you hit his pulse point, he hisses, hands coming to rest on your thighs. “Ah ah ah.” You chastise, pulling away from his neck. “No touching.” You pull his hands away, dropping them on the arm rests instead. “Hands to yourself.”

“Oh you are in for it when we get to the hotel.” He groans as you nip at his skin.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

#bang chan imagines #bang chan imagine #chris bang imagine #chris bang imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagine #almost smut #goodwriterwithbadhabits

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cloudy-minded-idiot · 3 years

Text

secrets

pairing: Shuri x reader

warnings: none that I could think of

word count: ~2,200 words

a/n: requested by @junajackson. sorry that it took me so long to write this! between uni and having to evacuate my appartment for a while, I really didn’t have a lot of freetime to write. I hope you like it :)

summary: shuri comes to visit the avengers compound, and your teammates dicover that you’ve been secretly dating the Wakandan princess for a while now.

The sun was already starting to rise by the time you returned to the compound, bathing the sky in a light pink hue. It was a pretty sight for your sore eyes. You felt drained, the way you often did after a mission. You had been gone for almost a week without being able to contact anyone, getting very little sleep as you had to fight your way out of one mess after the other. Ultimately, the mission was a success but exhausted as you were, you didn’t have it in you to celebrate.

You were welcomed back by an agent who briefly reminded you when your mission report would be due. You muttered out a confirmation and made a beeline for your room, stripping yourself from your dirty clothes and jumping under the shower. Cleaning up made you feel a lot better, and the warm water did wonders for your aching muscles. Dressed in something comfortable, you walked to your bedroom, ready to call it a day and catch some sleep. You had barely covered yourself with a blanket when a disembodied voice interrupted the tranquility of your room.

“Mr. Stark has requested your presence in the common room.”

Burying your head in your pillow, you let out a groan.

“Do I have to?”

Even to your own ears, your voice sounded whiney. The AI refrained from commenting on that, though.

“Mr. Stark is giving you five minutes to get to the common room and advises you to make yourself look presentable.”

Grumbling out some incoherent swear words, you stumbled out of bed and slowly got changed and pulled on some shoes. After assuring your hair looked alright, you made the small track to the common room. Tony looked up when you entered but, seeing your glare, refrained from making whatever stupid comment he had on the tip of his tongue.

Silently he passed you a cup of coffee which you received with a grateful nod. Taking a sip of the dark fluid, you let its warmth and the caffeine wash over you.

“How was your mission?” Tony asked tentatively, almost as if scared you would snap at him.

“Long and exhausting. I had to ditch my phone and comms the first day and barely had time to sleep or eat,” you took another long sip of your drink before throwing him a side glance, “I really hope for the sake of you that this is important.”

Tony was quick to assure you that it was, perhaps fearing that you would lose your cool otherwise. And yes, you were tired, but you were not irrational. The worst you would do is hit him in the arm and cuss him out, maybe prank him, later on, to get even.

“Important visitors are arriving from Wakanda today. We’re doing a bit of collaborative work on a new suit, improve some of my technology, etcetera. I need someone to show them around while I’m at a meeting with Fury. Think you’re up for that?”

You visibly perked up once you heard about Wakanda. You were more than familiar with their technology. After all, you were dating the head of their science and information department, although Tony didn’t know that. No one on the team did. After all, it hadn’t been until very recently that Wakanda decided to open up to the world and share its knowledge and technology. So, naturally, secrecy had to be part of the deal at the beginning of your relationship. And since then, you had just never found the time or the opportunity to broach the subject.

“I think I'll manage.”

Tony patted your shoulder with a grateful nod.

“Good. I know you’re tired, but I'll owe you one after this,” he said, distractedly checking his watch as he spoke, “I gotta run. Can’t keep Fury waiting any longer. Tell the Wakandans I'll be back by lunchtime. Keep them entertained until then, alright?”

At your affirmation, Tony thanked you and left you alone in the common room. You made yourself a second cup of coffee, already feeling better than before. That might also have something to do with the excitement of knowing your girlfriend might be coming to visit. After all, she was the head of the technology and information exchange program, so it would only make sense for her to be the one arriving today.

When FRIDAY alerted you that the Wakandan jet was preparing to land, you were out of your seat and down at the landing lane in no time. Some agents threw you weird looks, but you couldn’t care less. The plane had just shut off its engine when you arrived, waiting a couple of feet away to leave enough space for the small boarding ramp.

First to step off the jet, were two Dora Milaje carrying their standard sonic spear and serious expressions. The two warriors remained at either side of the door, eyeing the terrain with watchful eyes. Your own were fixed on the door while practically bouncing on the back of your feet in anticipation. As soon as you recognized the silhouette of your girlfriend in the doorway, you couldn’t help the big goofy smile that came to your face.

Her eyes trailed over the small airport before finally landing on you. Face lighting up, she matched your grin with one of her own. It had been so long since you had last seen Shuri in person, your heart stammered a bit just at the sight of her. The Wakandan princess quickly descended the ramp, immediately engulfing you in a hug that you returned just as fiercely.

“I was not sure you would be here when I arrived,” she admitted, releasing you just enough so that she could really look at your face, “I haven’t heard from you since you left for your mission a week ago.”

She gave you a playfully reproachful look, causing you to grimaced sheepishly.

“I just came back an hour ago. I would have called, but sadly my phone was one of the few casualties of my mission. Anyways,” stepping back a little, you cleared your throat and jokingly bowed slightly before your girlfriend, continuing in a mockingly formal tone.

“Princess Shuri, I have the honor to officially welcome you and the Dora Milaje to the Avengers Compound. Sadly, Mr. Stark will not be available for the next hours. Until then, I can offer you a tour of the parameters, if you like?”

You held out your hand in silent offer.

She bowed her head in thanks, lightly putting her hand on yours.

“Why thank you, we would appreciate that very much.”

Unable to keep up the show any longer, you both started to giggle before you motioned for her to come along.cHolding hands, you walked her through the most important parts of the compound, ending the tour in the main lab that Tony liked to use. Shuri looked around with an appraising gaze, silently evaluating the different pieces of equipment and machinery as you leaned against the table in the center of the room.

“Not as good as what I have at home, but it will do,” was her verdict, and you laughed slightly.

“Don’t tell Tony that, or he might be tempted to renovate again. He likes to pride himself on having the best of everything.”

“Oh, but he has already admitted that I have the better tech, has he not? Or I wouldn’t be here.”

“True,” you conceded, “So what do you guys have planned? You’re not going to make him a vibranium suit, are you?”

She shook her head, joining you on your side of the table, “We were more thinking along the line of nanotechnology. Something like my brother's Black Panther suit. Easy to carry around, quick to put on. Much more practical.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, trying to sound nonchalant as you asked your next question.

“So, how long do you suppose this would take?”

She hummed, taking a couple of steps closer to you.

“Two, three days at most,” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling your closer, “But for you, I might stretch it out a little. Give us more time together.”

You smiled adoringly at her, leaning in to press a long kiss to her lips. She returned it eagerly, letting out a content sigh. You really had missed her, more than you could ever put into words. And obviously, that sentiment was shared. After a few moments, you pulled apart to catch your breath, resting your foreheads together, breath mingling in the space between you. You stayed like that for a while, just content to hold each other and be close again.

“Almost forgot, I have something for you,” she whispered after a minute, releasing you to reach into her pocket.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t get you any gifts,” you muttered out, a bit embarrassed. She dismissed your worry with a shake of her head. Taking your hand in hers, she slid something onto your wrist. Shuri watched you with anticipation as you slowly realized what it was.

“You made me a Kimoyo bracelet?”

Your eyes were probably wide as saucers, a finger tentatively trailing over the engravings on the vibranium beads. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her nod.

“It’s easier for me to contact you with this than on one of your old school grandpa phones, and I thought it might be useful to you on your missions. It’s no big deal, really.”

She shrugged at the end, trying to play this gesture off. You looked up at her in wonder, quite aware that despite her words, this was, in fact, quite a big deal. For one, vibranium was really expensive. For another, Wakandans weren’t known for just handing out Kimoyo beads to anyone. This not only demonstrated how much she trusted you but also that she believed that the two of you were in this for the long run. Your adoration must have shown on your face because Shuri immediately groaned.

“Oh no, I know that look. Don’t you start getting sentimental on me,” she warned you without any malice. You smiled at her softly, unable to do anything about your expression.

“I won’t, I promise.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, overdramatically throwing her hands up in the air.

“You’re already doing it. Alright, I’m outta here.”

The Wakandan princess turned to go, but you gently took her hand and pulled her back into an embrace.

“I love you, Shuri,” you told her, your voice conveying all the emotions you felt. Her expression softened at your admission, and she leaned in to give you a small kiss.

“I love you, too, you big sap.”

“What's going on here?”

Both of you blinked in confusion, slowly turning to look at the door without letting go of each other. In the entrance of the lab, staring at you with faces ranging from shock to confusion and surprise, stood Tony, Steve, and Natasha.

You cleared your throat, feeling your face heat up, and slowly let go of Shuri, still keeping one of her hands in yours.

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?”

Steve was the one that spoke up, vaguely gesturing towards your girlfriend.

“We came to formally welcome the Princess.”

“Looks like Y/n has done enough welcoming for us all,” Natasha muttered, only snickering when Steve sent her a reproachful look for her comment. Tony was still regarding you flabbergasted.

“You,” Tony took off his ever-present sunglasses motioning between you and Shuri, “And her? Since when?”

“Shuri and I have been dating for almost a year now.”

“A year?” Tony repeated incredulously

“Back when Wakanda ‘s borders were still closed to the world,” Shuri sonfirmed, “With all the secrecy surrounding our technology, Y/n and I thought it would be best to keep our relationship secret too.”

“And after that, I just didn’t know how to tell you guys,” you added sincerely.

Tony looked as though he was about to ask more questions, but luckily Cap intervened, flashing you a smile.

“Well, I’m happy for you two. You look like you're happy together.”

Shuri squeezed your hand encouragingly, knowing how nervous you had been, not knowing how the team would react. Having the Captain’s blessing, even if you didn’t really need it, was appreciated.

“Thanks, Steve.”

“At least this explains why you’ve been having so many late-night phone calls. Good for you,” Natasha teased you, her words having the desired effect of making you groan in embarrassment.

“I guess I’m happy for you, too,” Tony admitted reluctantly after being prompted byone of Steve's stern looks, “But I'll be much happier after your girlfriend helps me with my suit. So shoo, out of the lab. Play time's over, let's get working.”

The billionaire made a motion for you all to leave, Natasha and Steve complying readily, saying their goodbyes to Shuri. Rolling your eyes, you followed his demand as well, but not without leaning in to kiss Shuri’s cheek.

“I'm beat anyways. I haven’t slept in a minute.”

She released your hand with one last small squeeze.

“Get some rest. I'll see you later.”

You were barely out of the lab when, much to Tony’s dismay, you heard Shuri brag about her own lab's much better equipment. You still had a fond smile on your face by the time you finally laid down in your bed.

___________________________________________

taglist: @fireflyglass @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @penparkz

#shuri x reader #marvel reader insert #request

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Stay For a While - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: You've been sitting across from this guy in the library every thursday for months now. You really should just tell him you love him and get it over with.

AKA: You spend the night at Nagito's house after your late lecture. and things get..........steamy

Word count: 8709 Contains: fem reader, no pronouns usage, explict sexual content Read on AO3

ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

You have feelings for the guy who sits across from you in the library. There is a three hour gap between your afternoon lecture and your evening tute, but you live too far away to go home and rest, so you usually grab a quick dinner and then park yourself at the small desk by the window for an hour or two. He is always already there. It’s embarrassing how your heart does a little flip every time to round the bookshelf and see him pouring over assignments, secretly you worry that one day he won't be there anymore. You don’t know what you’ll do with yourself if that happens.

Today he has a book open next to him, he's jotting down quotes in a notepad. His pale hand is stained with black ink from his ballpoint pen, and you are mesmerised by the subtle movement in his knuckles. The setting sun is cascading in through the window, and it catches in his unruly white hair, making it glow orange. He has it up in a messy bun today, it’s really cute. Luckily he’s too engrossed in his work to notice you looking at him, you try to be subtle, you really do. Browsing your phone and only occasionally flitting your eyes up to look at him, you don't even know his name.

His brow furrows and he crosses out his last note, tapping the end of his pen against his lips. They’re very full lips. You swallow and avert your eyes, turning back to your phone and mindlessly scrolling through instagram. Friends have told you to just ask the guy out for coffee or something, but you didn't know how to even start broaching that subject, Hey guy. Wanna grab a drink? Maybe tell me your name sometime? You frown, your leg bouncing restlessly under the table. You’ve been sitting across from this guy for three months now, every thursday, the fact that you haven't even bothered trying to talk to him is just proof of your own incompetence-

“Hey.” A voice says. Soft and calm. You brain stutters when you realise it was him .

“Oh...uh…” you’re picking off the nail polish on your left hand, a bad nervous habit, “Hello…”

“I bought a soda from the vending machine this morning, but it dispensed five…” a can clinks down on the desk in front of you, you’re too busy staring at the way his long fingers grip the top of it, “do you want one?”

You don't really like Dr Hopper, but he doesn't need to know that, “Sure. Thank you.”

He gives you a polite smile and cracks his can open, taking a long sip. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, you have to actually tear your eyes away from him. Your knee is bouncing faster. The pull tab on the can is hard to navigate with your sweaty and shaky hands, but you manage to get it open.

“Shit…” you mutter, the soda fizzes over a little. Not enough to make a real mess, but it does get all over your thumb, you pull your thumb up to your mouth in an attempt to clean the soda off before it gets all sticky. As you do so, you sneak another look up at the guy. His eyes are glued to where your lips are meeting your skin. His cheeks are pink. There’s a rush of warmth from your heart down to your stomach, the deep orange sun is crossing his left collarbone, you want to trace it with your tongue.

“Sorry…” He breathes, giving you an uneasy smile, “It’s been jostling around in my bag for a few hours. That was probably my fault.”

“It’s really fine.”

He picks his pen up and goes back to working. You can see his notes pretty easily, without seeming like you’re peeking. His handwriting is messy, but still very legible. The ink stains on his hand are only getting worse as he goes on. When he shifts his feet below the table you can feel how close his legs are to yours, it's a big desk, but he has long legs. You wonder idly how much taller than you he is, he usually leaves before you do. You dont think you’ve ever both been standing at the same time. All of a sudden, the chill of the library gets to you. It was a decently warm day when the sun was out, but now that it is getting dark that’s starting to change. The blouse you are wearing is cute, but it’s also off the shoulder and you are beginning to feel cold. Your phone clunks loudly when you drop it on the desk, freeing your hands to rub some warmth into your arms, the sun is almost behind the horizon now, it’s going to be a cold walk home after class.

“Are you cold?”

You turn back from the window to see the guy looking at you, “huh?”

“I know you probably don’t want someone like me bothering you, but you…” He runs a hand through his hair, it makes it look even messier, “you look like you’re cold.”

“Oh, I mean. Yeah, I forgot how quickly it gets dark this time of year.” You laugh, “I didn't really dress for the weather.”

He tilts his head to the side, your heart is pounding, “You didn't bring a coat?” he asks

You shake your head slowly, unsure where this is going. Hoping it’s going in the direction you want it to.

Then, he stands up. Shaking his coat off his shoulders, revealing forearms so pale and thin you could wrap your whole hand around them. Your heartbeat is so loud you can hear it in your ears as he walks around the table to you. He is so close to you, he’s never been this close before.

“Here.” He says, passing the coat into your arms. It’s warm, “You can borrow this, if you don't mind wearing my gross clothes.”

It isn’t gross. It smells like chamomile soap and fresh laundry, “No I don't mind. Um, thank you.”

You slide out of your chair and stand up so you can put the coat on. He is at least a head taller than you, maybe more. You feel your knees wobble when you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, they are a lot greener up close. Any words that you might have said are frozen in your throat as you slip your arms through the coat, your fingers barely stick out past the cuffs.

“It’s a little big for you, but that’s to be expected.”

“No, it’s fine. I like it.”

“I hope i'm not overstepping any boundaries but...it looks good on you.”

You’re burning up, stomach twisting, “It... feels good on me.”

“Oh…” He mutters, quickly forcing a nervous laugh, “Well, i'm sure anything would look good on anyone as beautiful as you.”

Holy shit .

“Are you...flirting with me?” you whisper, burying your hands in the pockets of his coat and trying to make yourself seem smaller, “Or am I imagining it?”

He freezes, you can see his hands tensing up. You worry for a moment that you had been imagining it and that now you’ve made everything weird.

“ Was I flirting…?” He gives you a gentle smile, “Huh...I guess i was? Unless you didn't want me to, i don't want to presume-”

“No!” you say a little too loudly, shocking him into silence, “keep-uh...you can keep doing it.” His eyebrows jump up at that, but then settle back down into his calm expression, you are picking at your nail polish again, if only to give your nervous hands something to do, “Can i ask for your name? We’ve been sitting together for so long now and i’ve never asked…”

“Nagito” He breathes, and it fits him perfectly. A smile breaks out on your face before you can stop it. You give him your name in return and he repeats it back, like he is testing how it feels on his tongue, “Pretty name.” He says, you can hear that his breathing is shaky, “It suits you.”

Like he is trying to run away before his most recent compliment finally hits you, he walks back around to his side of the desk and starts grabbing his books. He crouches down on the ground and starts shoving them into his stachel, looking up at you from his spot on the floor, “I finish class at seven. Will you be around?”

“Ah, no. Sorry, I don't finish until nine.”

“Oh, your classes run really late.” He stands up and slings the bag over his shoulder.

“Do you want your coat back now?” You say, already moving to take it off. He strides over to you, and pulls it back over your shoulders, looking at you very seriously.

“I’m not letting you walk home in the cold without it.” his hands feel warm and firm on your shoulders, you never want him to pull away, “I can walk you home, you can give it back when you get inside.”

Your heart flutters at his suggestion. Imagining walking with him in the dark, your fingers brushing against his knuckles....you’re burning up again, “I live outside the city so i have to catch the train, but you can walk me to the station if you want? I mean, if you’re happy to wait until nine.”

He smiles, and your heart curls at the edges. You feel all buttery and warm inside.

“I’ll be right here.”

~*~*~

He is still there. You’d been worrying for the past few hours that he would be gone when you came back, that he would have changed his mind. A few people noticed the coat, and that it clearly wasn't yours. Sonia, the intimidatingly beautiful exchange student who usually sits next to you, was tittering politely behind a hand when she noticed it. When you asked what was so funny, she turned serious and told you it was nothing, but you could see a playfulness in her eyes. You wonder if she also noticed how much your leg was bouncing and that you wouldn't stop looking at the clock.

“Hello.” He says with a smile as you round the bookshelf, his already sleepy eyes even softer than usual. He’s playing something on a nintendo switch, it sounds like Animal Crossing, you recognise the 9pm music.

You smile back, “Hey. You good to go?”

“Oh yes!” He says enthusiastically, slotting the switch into a fabric case and zipping it up. He stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder, “Which station do you leave from?”

You start heading out of the library and he falls into step beside you, his arm almost brushing against yours. You shove your hands in the pocket of his coat to keep yourself from doing anything rash, “Central Station. It’s fifteen minutes away.”

“At least it isn’t too far. You won’t have to put up with me for too long.” He punctuates the end of the sentence with a laugh. The in person version of adding ‘lol’ to the end of a text to soften it.

The glass doors whoosh open as you step outside, you look up at him, “why do you keep doing that?” You ask. The city is slick with the aftermath of recent rain, the lights reflecting off the puddles on the sidewalk. It’s a cold, but admittedly beautiful night.

“Doing what?”

“Talking about yourself like that.” You stop at a crosswalk to wait for the lights, “Like you’re trying to convince me to make you leave.”

He laughs again, it’s less convincing this time, “Don’t misunderstand! I’m not trying to make you do anything, I just don’t want you thinking you have to spend any time with me if you don’t want to.”

“If I didn’t want to spend time with you. I wouldn’t.” The light at the crossing turns green, and you start heading further down the street. Nagito is following beside you. You thought it was pretty obvious that you are interested in him, in every sense of the word, but he either seems to have not noticed, or not believed it, “are you enjoying Animal Crossing?”

“I am!” He says, beaming widely, “I just finished catching the last fish today, now I'm breeding flowers.”

“Oh wow, you have all the fish already? You must be really lucky.”

He laughs, playing nervously with a strand of hair that didn't get caught up in his bun, “I guess??”

“I’ve been working on a kitchen, but I still don't have any of the damn ironwood set. I haven't found a fridge either.” You huff and notice that your breath appears white and wispy before you. It’s even colder than you thought it would be, “I just have a bunch of appliances all over the floor for now.”

“I think my housemate might have a fridge.” Nagito says, tapping his lips with a finger as he tries to remember, “No ironwood though. If I get him to mail me a fridge I can pass it onto you.” His mouth pulls into a nervous smile, and you notice him picking at a loose string at the hem of his shirt, “I mean, if you’re happy to give me your friend code.”

“No, uh...that sounds good. I can give you my code when we get to the station if my switch isn't dead yet.” You take a left down a back alley, it isn't as well lit as the main road, but it is a lot quicker to cut through than it is to go around. During the day there are a few small cafes open, with big umbrellas and tables out front. At night it is much less cheery.

Nagito is looking around uncomfortably, the moon is high in the sky and down the alley it is the only light source. His hair shimmers in the moonlight, your heart is pounding again, “Do you come down here every night?” He tucks a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his phone, flicking on the flashlight.

The light only manages to make the walls of the alleyway seem even taller, “Yeah. I only have a late class on Thursday’s though. It isn't usually this dark.”

He gives you a concerned look, “It probably isn't safe.”

You shrug, “It’s another ten minutes if I go around. Plus, nothing has ever happened. I'm sure it’s fine.”

He turns away from you, looking straight ahead. His face turns deathly serious and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, “Yeah, well. Luck runs out eventually.”

You aren't sure what to say. It sounded like he was talking from experience. His footsteps are quiet beside you, and his spine is curled like he is trying to make himself small and unobtrusive. Difficult, considering his height. As you come to the end of the alleyway he switches off his flashlight and tucks it back into his pocket, you notice that his black jeans are tight and you feel something swell in the pit of your stomach. He is very attractive.

“It’s just up this street, yeah?” He asks, you notice that he’s started rubbing his arms, “It’s kinda chilly.”

It suddenly hits you that he must be freezing without the coat he leant to you. You feel like an asshole, “Oh my god. I'm so sorry, you must be so cold!” you start talking the coat off, ready to give it back to him. He stops you.

“If one of us has to be cold, please let it be me.” His hand is on your shoulder again, you’re trying to store how it feels away in your memory. You don't want to forget.

“I don't want you to get sick.”

He laughs and waves your concern away with a hand, “No need to worry about me. It’s mostly just my arms and hands that are cold anyway, I'll be alright.”

You have a thought. There isn't much you can do about his cold arms, but his cold hands? That was possible. If only you work up the courage. As the two of you continue walking down the street, you move yourself close to him, a tiny bit closer, so tiny he probably doesn't even notice. He is still looking on ahead, but you are focussed entirely on the closeness of your hands. Focussed on reaching out just your pinky, slowly, carefully. Your heart is racing and your cheeks are burning. (this is so highschool of you, how old are you 12?) It doesn't matter, you’re going to do it, going to curl just the one finger around his and then maybe-

“Hey, we’re here!”

Your back snaps ramrod straight, and your hand whips back up against your leg so hard it almost hurts. He’s right, you’re at the station. You’d been so intent on holding his damn hand that you didn't realise how close the station was. This is embarrassing.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking down at you with genuine concern, ‘Your face is all pink, you're not cold are you?”

“No, i’m uh-” He's staring at you, it’s making you nervous, “-I’m fine. Let me just check when the next train is, then you can go home if you want.”

He smiles politely, “Okay. I’ll wait here.”

The announcement board is lit up in the darkness right above the entrance to the station, you have to get a little closer to be able to read the train times. Nagito gives you a little wave when you turn back to look at him, and you sigh. You had been hoping to make it a little clearer how you felt about him, but it looks like you’re still a coward.

“God damn it…” you mutter as you look up at the board. Nagito must have heard you, because he comes bounding over with clear distress in his eyes. His hair is bouncy, it’s adorable.

“Are you okay?” He looks around frantically, “Did you lose something?”

You laugh, trying to ease his concerns, “Nah. We just missed my train, the next one isn't for half an hour. I probably won't be home until after midnight at this rate.”

“Hm. That’s really late.”

“Yeah, i live at the end of the Metro. Two hours.”

He’s playing with the hem of his shirt again, practically shaking with nerves when he finally says, “You could...come back to my place.

You don't have any words. They’re all caught in the back of your throat.

He panics, “Only if you want to! I would understand completely if you don't want to sleep in the same apartment as trash like me!”

Your innocent thoughts about brushing knuckles and shy glances begin morphing into something much less PG.

“Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you.”

“Inconvenience? Me?!” His cheeks turn a little pink, “You couldn't possibly inconvenience me .”

You shrug a shoulder, trying to ignore the incessant buzzing of excitement under your skin, “Lead the way, then.” ~*~*~

His apartment is nice. He dropped his key five times before he was able to get the door open, but when he finally did you were pleasantly surprised. You’ve been in some awful bachelor pads before, but this is nothing like that. There’s a plush brown couch in the center of the room with a colourful throw tossed over it, a modestly sized tv and a collection of mismatched mugs spread out on the low coffee table. A salt lamp in the corner of the room casts a pale orange light across the space, dancing on the shiny leaves of all the pot plants strewn about the room.

“Sorry for the mess…” Nagito says, slipping past you and hanging his bag up on a hook on the wall. He pulls his switch out of the bag and docks it by the tv, “Hajime drinks a lot of coffee.”

“It’s not even messy.” You take notice of just how many bookshelves are lining the walls and smile, “It’s nice in here.”

Nagito is in the middle of picking up all the wayward mugs around the room, but he still manages to turn and flash you a smile, “It’s nice of you to say so. I’m going to tidy up a little, feel free to sit down.”

“Oh, you really don't need to clean up for me. It’s fine.” You say, dropping your backpack on the ground by the door and heading over to the couch. It’s very comfy, but you still find yourself sitting stiffly, nervous about seeming too comfortable, “Is Hajime your housemate?” you ask, eyeing a photo on one of the bookshelves. Nagito is smiling brilliantly and chucking a peace sign up to the camera, there’s another guy beside him giving an uncomfortable thumbs up, but a very genuine smile.

“Yes!” Nagito calls back from the kitchen, you can hear the water running and assume he’s washing the mugs, “He’s at his girlfriend’s house tonight and he won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. You probably won't see him.”

You swallow. Not only are you going to be in the apartment with him all night, you’re also going to be alone . Your leg is bouncing again, you can't help it, “Um, where will i be sleeping?”

Nagito comes out of the kitchen, drying his hands with a tea towel before tossing it into what you assume is a laundry basket, “The couch folds out. We don't have to…uh” he laughs nervously, “We don’t have to share a bed, if that’s what you were worrying about.”

Worrying is not the word you would use.

“Oh! Do you have anything to sleep in?”

“Ah, i hadn't thought about that.” You wince a little, remembering the last time you had to sleep with your jeans on, “I’ll be okay though, dont worry about it.”

“I can at least see if Chiaki left something behind last time she was here. I don't want you to be uncomfortable.” He starts heading over to one of the two doors in the wall behind the couch, “Oh, I've turned the heating on by the way. If the coat is too warm you can just leave it on my bed.” He points to the other door, “just in there.”

“I might do that, thank you.” You stand up and shuck the coat, folding it over your arm, “It was getting a little toasty.”

He smiles warmly and heads into what you assume is Hajime’s room. Leaving you alone with the notion that he has just invited you into his bedroom. Your heart is racing. It’s literally just a room with a bed in it, you don't know why you are getting so worked up about this. The nailpolish on your fingers is practically all gone with all the nervous picking you've been doing today.

You force yourself to round the couch and head over to the door, trying not to notice the way your knees are wobbling. You suck in a breath, reach for the doorknob and even though the moment feels immense, you are comforted when you realise that his room is very normal.

There's a soft green rug on the floor, and the bed is made in a haphazard way that suggests he didn't want to leave it messy, but couldn't be bothered doing it properly either. His wardrobe is slightly ajar and you can see a row of boots lined up below a collection of sweaters and coats. It’s cosy, it suits him. The sound of your heartbeat is loud in your ears as you step over to the bed and drop the folded coat on the end of it. It smells like him in here, like camomile and sunday evenings. Your hands are sweating.

You notice a collection of polaroid photos strung up above his desk. At this point you’re probably being a little too nosy, but your feet are already walking over to the desk before you can stop yourself. There’s a textbook on the desk and a notepad filled with quotes and page numbers, he’s drawn a couple of flowers in the margins, you smile. A post-it shaped like a four leaf clover catches your eye, the handwriting is different from Nagito’s.

Don’t forget to drink water, dumbass.

A laugh bubbles up out of your chest, you assume that was a reminder from Hajime. There are plenty more pictures of him and Nagito amongst the polaroids, a number of them taken at some sort of beach getaway. Nagito has his eyes closed in a wide smile, his cheeks turning red from the sun as he wraps one arm around the shoulders of a short girl engrossed in her PSP. You assume that she is Hajime’s girlfriend, based on a different photo of the two of them kissing while Nagito throws up a peace sign in the foreground. They seem like very good friends, you’re happy for him.

“Are you done sightseeing?”

You whirl around to see Nagito standing in the open doorway with a bundle of cloth in his hands. His tone is teasing, but his lips are curled up in a smile. You feel yourself blushing, “ah, sorry. I shouldn't have-”

He laughs pleasantly, stepping into the room proper, “No, it's fine! I don't mind at all, sorry my room isn't very exciting.”

“It’s cozy.” You say, wringing your hands together, “I like it...it suits you.”

Nagito turns red now, all the way up to his ears and down to his collarbones. He clears his throat, “I found some sleep shorts and a shirt that I don't think Chiaki will mind you borrowing. I'll just have to wash them tomorrow.”

He passes the bundle of clothing over to you. When you unfold the shirt you snicker at the phrase ‘gamers don't die. We respawn’ that is printed in bold across the front of it, “Chiaki is a gamer, I take it?”

Nagito chuckles pleasantly, “The best one I know. Smash nights with her are something to behold.”

“Well…” you start, trying your best to seem like you aren't thinking about kissing him, “Thanks for the clothes...should I change in the bathroom, or?”

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, eyes closing in a wide smile, “No, it's okay. You can get changed in here, I'll sit on the couch. Don't worry about it.”

Your heart is pounding. He's so handsome and so nice, your mind is racing with the thought that if you don't finally tell him how you feel now, you probably never will. Your fingers dig tight into the shirt you're holding as you try to find a way to ground yourself. You take a deep breath, “Nagito…?”

“Hm?”

Your stomach is churning, your hands feel clammy. You think and think but you just can't find the right words, to tell him how you feel, to tell him what you want . In the end, you decide that maybe words aren't the best course of action, and pull your shirt up over your head.

The room goes so silent that the sound of your blouse hitting the carpet sounds like a thunderclap. Your chest is heaving with the gravity of what you've just done. Why the fuck did you do that??? This was a terrible, awful, bad idea. You almost go scrambling to shove Chiaki’s shirt on and pretend this never happened.

But Nagito’s face stops you in your tracks. He’s staring at you, shaking visibly. His big green eyes keep flitting between your face and your torso. He heaves a wavering breath and whispers, “Tell me not to kiss you. Stop me, please .”

You feel elated, “I don't want to stop you.”

He swallows, nails biting into the palms of his hands, “I cant...I shouldn't...you’re too good for-”

You take a step towards him and cup his cheek in your palm. Whatever words he was going to say die in his throat.

“How long have you wanted me, Nagito?” You trace your thumb over his lower lip, his erratic breathing is so loud you can hear it, “I’ve wanted you for months .”

He nods loosely, squeezing his eyes shut, “Me too. Me too.”

his skin is soft under your palm, your move your hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes open at your touch and he is beautiful . You smile, gently running your fingers in his soft hair before whispering, “Then what are you waiting for?”

He sucks in a breath, and his hand shakes as he brings it up to your cheek. The skin of his palm is dry and warm, you can’t help leaning into it. His second hand slowly slips around to the small of your back, you can feel him trembling.

“God you’re…” you can feel his breath on your face, he is so close to you now, “you’re so beautiful…”

You smile, “so are you.”

He gasps, eyes widening as he looks down at you. Then, his thumb gently runs along the length of your cheekbone, and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

He is perfect

His lips are soft and cool, his palm on your back presses you firmly up against him as you slowly curl your arms around the back of his neck. You whine gently into his mouth, kissing him only more incessantly, desperately. Months of yearning and desire is escaping in this one kiss and one of your hands tangles it’s fingers in the hair on the back of his head. It’s as soft as you dreamed it would be. He is how you dreamed he would be.

Nagito pulls away from you, green eyes blown wide and breath heaving. The hand on your lower back is shaking, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long…” his throat bobs, “I can’t...I can’t believe you let me kiss you.”

“Why not?” You breathe, letting one of your hands slip down his torso, toying with the hem of his shirt.

His breathing grows shaky, “b-because I don’t deserve you. Someone like you desiring someone like me it’s just- hah! ”

Your fingers have crept up under his shirt, tracing light circles on his hip bone. You hadn’t expected it to stun him into silence like this, you lean in a press a soft kiss to his neck, “is this okay?”

“H-huh?”

You laugh gently against his skin, “are you okay with me touching you like this?”

“Y-yes! I just don’t understand why? ”

“Because I have feelings for you, Nagito” you feel your cheeks burning, “I’ve uh- been trying to gather the confidence to tell you that all night. I sort of assumed it was pretty obvious with the kissing and-“

You're cut off when he tugs you against him, wrapping both arms around your waist and burying his head in the crook of your neck. you gasp at the feeling of his thin arms tight around you, and he quickly pulls back at the sound.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No! Um, I liked it! You just surprised me.”

He laughs, a giggle that sounds like disbelief, “I surprised you? You took your shirt off…”

You’re burning up. Suddenly remembering your state of undress and crossing your arms over your chest, “Ah. Yes. That was stupid of me. I just...panicked?”

His brow furrows, “panicked?”

“Yeah I- I dunno, I was worried that if I didn’t make a move now I’d never have a chance to do…” you swallow, looking up at him nervously, “do whatever it is we’re going to do.”

You hear him take a shaky breath, his eyes open wide, “You want to...keep going?”

“...Yes” you whisper

“With...me?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “I want to go as far as you will let me.”

He’s laughing again, hand cupping over his mouth as he stares at you in shock, “O-Okay...if you’re sure you want to. Then I-“ his voice drops an octave, you aren’t sure if it was intentional, but you feel it in your stomach, “I want to as well.”

“Do you want to sit on the bed?” You ask, trying to contain your nerves.

“Ah, yes. Of course!” He’s shaking when he steps around you and sinks down onto his bed. You can see his knees bouncing a little, he’s as overwhelmed as you are, “Are you going to sit down too- ah~”

You do sit down. On his lap. Gently straddling him and looping your arms around the back of his head, “Is this okay?”

He shifts underneath you a little, and his hands shakily come to rest on the dip of your waist, “I’m probably not very comfortable.”

You laugh and press a kiss to his temple, “You’re plenty comfortable. Best seat in the house.”

His eyes meet yours. Dilated. Blinking slowly as he examines the contours of your face. You can feel his breath on your lips, you can’t believe that you’re this close to him. You’re the luckiest person in the world. When your lips press together again, his fingers dig tighter into your waist and your toes curl. He gasps against your mouth when you swipe at the seam of his lips with your tongue, moaning deep in the back of his throat as his tongue tangles with yours. There’s a warmth steadily growing between your thighs, your legs tighten around Nagito’s and your fingers dig into his soft white hair, pulling him closer to you. Then you shift in his lap, and feel a hardness growing in his jeans. Nagito gasps and pulls his lips from yours.

“I--I’m sorry...I just…”

“Nagito.” You whisper, letting one of your hands trail down his chest, “I told you. I want to go as far as you will let me.” Your hand comes in contact with his cock, rubbing him encouragingly through his jeans, “Is this still okay?”

He whimpers, hips stuttering up into your hand, “Ah! Are you sure you want to?”

“Very.” You shuffle backwards, slipping down off the bed and onto your knees between his legs. Your hands are resting on his waistband, just waiting for his permission, “Can i take your pants off?”

Nagito nods nervously, but lifts up his hips to help you tug his jeans down over his thighs. You get them down to his knees before you stop, toying with the hemline of his boxers, “Can these come off too?”

“Ah...If you want?” His voice is shaky, but he doesn't seem reluctant when you grab the elastic waistband and start tugging them down. You are trying to keep your cool, to seem like you have done this many times more than you actually have, but when his erect cock pops out and slaps backwards onto his stomach. You can feel your eyes grow wider, and have to physically bite down on your lip to hold in a gasp. Nagito is looking down at you nervously as you pull his jeans and boxers over his feet and drop them onto the floor. He sits up on his elbows and you can see his throat bob, “Are you sure you still want this? I...ah...I know i'm not much to look at.”

“I’ll have to respectfully disagree…” you whisper, eyes trailing up the length of his pale legs, lingering on the jut of his hips where they disappear up under his shirt. His breathing is heavy, cheeks turned pink and hair in disarray from your tangling fingers, “you’re gorgeous.”

“Aha...You are too kind…” Nagito breathes, avoiding your eyes.

You swallow, hands coming up to rub encouraging circles on his bare thighs, “I want to use my mouth.” You cock your head to the side, “would that be alright?”

Nagito makes a shocked noise in the back of his throat. Eyes wide in disbelief, even as his cock twitches at your words, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea...I...I would not be worthy of such a thing…”

“Is that a no because you think i don't want to?” you ask gently, pressing a kiss to one of his bony knees, “or is it a no because you don't want me to? Those are two very different things.”

He looks at you, almost incredulous, “Well of course I want you to! But I don't want you to ruin your- ack!~”

You grip tight on his jutting hip bones and sink your mouth down on his cock, as far as you can take it. Nagito moans loud , his legs tensing under your arms as you start lathing the underside of his head with your tongue and slowly pulling your lips up and down the length of him. He feels hot and smooth in your mouth and a gasp escapes you when his hips stutter in deeper, the head of his cock kissing the back of your throat.

“I...I’m sorry…” he whimpers, breathless and panicked, “Did i choke you? I’m a pathetic excuse for a human being…”

He is apparently too lost in his own head, to notice how thoroughly you are enjoying yourself. Moaning wontanly as you bob your head up and down, thighs rubbing together with every little noise you hear escaping his throat. He makes such pretty sounds, you want desperately to hear more of them.

“You...Your mouth...it’s so warm” Nagtio hisses through clenched teeth. You can feel the muscles working in his thighs as he tries to hold back the urge to chase the heat of your mouth. His legs are quivering , “I cant believe that you would let me-- ahhhh! ” his fingers curl tight into the sheets, chest heaving as you slowly insert a finger inside of him.

“Was that okay?” you ask, stilling your finger, worried that you’ve hurt him, “Do you need me to stop?”

Nagito whines and shakes his head, hips bucking forward into your hand like he’s trying to force your finger deeper, “M--more... please .”

You laugh a little, gently lapping at the head of his cock while pushing your finger deeper. Nagito wriggles and moans when you get it the whole way in, slowly pumping it in and out. You moan against his cock when you feel him tighten around you, “Can you take another?”

“Yes... yes… ” he pants, breath coming hot and heavy as he quivers beneath you, “I want it...want you ”

It’s getting harder to focus. Hearing his noises, feeling him moving and keening under your touch. You’re soaking wet, craving any sort of friction, but still determined to give Nagito the night of his life. You rub your thighs together, and slip a second finger into him.

The noise he makes is indescribable. The whole neighborhood probably heard it, and all you can think about is how lucky they all are, because it is the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard.

“I could listen to you forever…” you breathe, pistoning your fingers in and out of him while pumping his cock with your other hand, “Do you want another finger?”

He whines aloud at the thought of it, but still shakes his head, “I don’t... ahh! I don't want to cum…” he hisses a breath in through his teeth, “until you do.”

You can feel your cheeks burning. Embarrassed as his insinuation like you don't currently have your fingers three knuckles deep in his ass, “What do you want to do then…?”

“I...I want to taste you” Nagito purrs, leaning up on his elbows, peering down at you, “Would you indulge me?”

“Oh...sure…” you whisper, slipping your fingers out of him and shimmying out of your pants. Nagito audibly gasps as the sight of your bare legs, and you feel yourself getting a little bit egotistic. No matter what concerns you may have with your body, it’s hard to remember them when he looks at you like that . Just as you are climbing onto the bed, you let out a gasp when Nagito grabs your thighs and tugs you up onto his chest, “Nagito...what-”

“Sit on my face, please. ”

You swallow. Cheeks heating up at the despartation in his voice, “Okay…” you breathe, shuffling up until your knees are resting firmly on the mattress above his shoulders. Your thighs are shaking, “Sorry. I’m kind of embarrassed…”

Nagito chuckles beneath you, peering up at your face through his pale eyelashes, “there’s no need to be embarrassed.” he whispers, hands curling around your thighs, “It’s just me. I want to pleasure you like you did for me. Is that okay?”

Your sex throbs at his words, and you have to sink your teeth into your lip to hold in a moan. He’s smiling at you, you can feel his cool breath on your bare cunt and as you slowly lower yourself to meet his mouth, you feel his fingers tighten against your flesh. He moans unabashedly as he drags his tongue up the length of you, keening and whimpering like he is the one being pleasured. His lips wrap around your swollen clit and your hips buck further into his face, you bite down on your hand to stop yourself from screaming.

“No...please…” nagito whispers from beneath you, “I want to hear you, let me hear how good I am making you feel.”

His tongue gets back to work, slowly dipping in and out of your dripping entrance as his hands curl around your thighs.

“Ooh— ooohhh! ” You croon, grinding your hips sinfully against the lower half of his face, “You’re so good...your tongue feels so-- ahhh! S--So good, Nagito…”

Nagito moans . You can feel the vibrations through his tongue as it thrusts in and out of you. He sucks and licks with the desperation of a man who wants to taste every inch of you, every millimeter . He’s shaking under you, frantic and needy with nothing more than a desire for you. It’s almost overwhelming, you’ve never had someone want you like this before and it makes a powerful heat stroke at your core.

“F-Fuck…” You manage to hiss, centleching your eyes shut and digging a hand into the halo of his hair, “Nagito...I...I want you... please! ”

He slows his ministrations for just a moment. Big green eyes blinking up at you from between your thighs, “Are you sure? I’m more than happy to keep doing this.” he laughs a little, “I’m enjoying myself quite a bit.”

You caution a glance behind yourself to where his cock is still standing at full attention, twitching and dripping . He is enjoying himself, that is very much clear.

“I’m sure.” you give him a smile and brush some of his hair from his face, “I’ll take you up on the offer next time though.”

Nagito’s breath hitches, and you feel his fingers dig tight into your thighs, “...next time?”

“Yeah. Next time.” You swallow, “If you want a next time, that is.”

You can't really see his mouth, but you can still tell that he is grinning, “I...I do want a next time.”

“Ah, good. It would have been really awkward if you said no…” you clear your throat, “Condom?”

“Top drawer.” He replies, nodding in the direction of his bedside table before returning his mouth to your clit. You reach behind yourself and slap his thigh.

“Stop that! I’m not going to be able to rip a condom open if I'm shaking…”

He chuckles, “but you taste so good…”

Biting your lower lip to hold in a moan, you manage to wriggle a hand into Nagito’s drawer and locate a box of condoms. Still shrinkwrapped, “ah, shit. I hate opening this stuff.”

Nagito does not offer to help you. Still caressing your sex with his tongue. He hits your clit hard for a moment and your hips jump forward.

“Fuck...Nagito!” You moan and squeeze your eyes shut, “I need to get this stupid box open.” You manage to get a corner of the shrinkwrap between your teeth and tear it open. Nagito now has his tongue back inside of you, “hnng…” you force out, pulling a condom out and just letting the box fall to the floor, “stop distracting me!”

You can feel him laugh against you, gently lapping his tongue at your insides as you finally manage to tear the condom open, “Oh! These are ribbed for my pleasure! How very polite of you.” you tease, shuffling down from his face and between his legs.

Nagito turns red, the lower of his face glistening with your slick. He brings up an arm and cleans himself off with the back of his hand, “Ah...I just...I figured if I was going to buy some…”

Your lips quirk up in a smile as you roll the condom down over his twitching cock. He hisses at the feeling of your palm caressing him, “What are you so worried about? I mean it, it was a nice gesture.”

Nagito gasps when you swing a leg over his bony hips, hovering just over his cock, so close that you can just feel the head brushing your folds. Nagito has his hands buried in the sheets and you can see him quivering beneath you, “Everything okay? Do you need to stop?”

He shakes his head, adam’s apple bobbing as he traces your form with his eyes, “I just...I can’t believe you're about to do this.” he chokes on a laugh, covering his mouth with a hand, “I’m going to ruin you…”

A smile crawls up your cheek as you slowly start lowering yourself down. Nagito makes a shocked noise at the back of his throat when the head pops inside of you, “and I, you.”

You watch in awe as his chest rises and falls, as his eyes squeeze shut. His brow creases, his cheeks are painted in a gorgeous red. He looks like a masterpiece, and there's a little voice in your head, praising yourself for being the one who did this to him. Then, he is fully inside of you, stretching you out and pulsing against your tight heat.

Nagito’s hips buck just a little, a hiss escaping his mouth, “Ah... ahhh .” he swallows thickly as his eyes open, staring up at you in absolute adoration, “I’m inside you...I’m really inside you…”

“Sure are.” You reply, lifting yourself up just a little before dropping back down again. A moan rips from his mouth, and a needy whine escapes yours, “You feel...really good…”

He nods his head, staring up at the ceiling like he is trying to ground himself, “You’re so warm...you’re taking me so perfectly…”

You shiver at the compliment. Relishing in the feeling of Nagito’s desperate little thrusts, it feels like he is trying to hold himself back, but he just can’t . Like he needs you, like he craves you. You roll your hips, moaning long and hard at the sensation of him moving inside of you. Nagito whimpers, hips shaking as he tries his hardest to stay still.

“What are you waiting for?” You ask, “I’m all yours, Nagito. Take me.”

His hips snap up. Just the once, his body responding to your words before his head even has a chance to catch up, “You...you’re mine… ” he breathes, disbelieving, but utterly hungry. His hands slowly curl around your hips, pads of his fingers digging into your flesh as he starts moving in earnest. The sound that cuts loose from your throat is so loud that it surprises even you, the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you is insane. It makes your toes curl, your stomach tense, your heart race.

“You liked that?” He whispers, voice gravelly and breathless as he continues pounding up into you, like he doesn't want to be outside of you for more than a second, “You feel so good...so perfect...i couldn't resist you even if i wanted to--” he throws his head back and groans, “--you take my cock like it was meant for you and you alone…”

It isn't clear if he is doing it on purpose, or if he is just saying exactly what he is thinking. Either way, Nagito knows exactly what to say to push your buttons. The insinuation that you were made for his cock, and that it was made for you has you clenching hard around him. Sweaty and clammy, grinding your hips harder and harder. Desperate for more of him. More of Nagito. All of Nagito.

“M’close…” You force out, breath growing shaky and thighs quivering on either side of his hips.

Nagito laughs, it's loud and wild. It echoes around the room, “You’re going to cum for me?”

“Just for you. All for you.”

He moans, letting one hand drop down from your hip to circle your clit instead. You howl and Nagito hisses through his teeth, you’re bouncing on his cock now. Keening and whining, the warmth in your stomach is growing unbearable, and watching Nagito’s mouth drop open in a perfect moan doesn't help. It’s right then, that he shoves himself up inside of you hard , hitting just the right place for you to finally come undone. There's white behind your eyes as all the tension within you snaps, hips gyrating furiously as you ride out your orgasm. Nagito lets out a cry and pounds up into you with a surprising ferocity, cock twitching between your walls as he cums. His face in that moment is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

It takes a minute for you to come back down from your high. Falling forward and resting your head in the join between Nagito’s neck and shoulder, breathing deeply as the shivers from your orgasm slowly subside. Nagito starts rubbing gently circles on your back, his hands are shaky, but you aren't sure if he is just lethargic or if he is also nervous. You lift yourself up with your arms and press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m getting off you now, ready?”

He nods sleepily, and you lift your leg up and over him, collapsing bodily onto the bed beside him. Everything is still fizzing and popping, from your heart out to your fingertips. If it feels like the sun has awoken inside your chest. You just want to lie here forever.

“Just...ah...give me a minute, and then I'll move out to the couch.” Nagito says, panting quietly, “You can take the bed.”

You roll over to face him, “Nagito...you really think i'm going to kick you out of your own bed?”

“Oh, i don't know...I just...didn't want to presume.”

With an affectionate sigh, you shuffle a little closer to him, resting your head on his chest and tucking your arm in around his waist, “No presumption necessary. I want to sleep with you.”

Nagito laughs, “You already did.”

“Hey! You know what I meant.” you lean up a little and press a kiss to his shoulder before snuggling deeper into his chest, “I want to actually sleep with you.”

“I still can’t believe you're here with me…” he sighs happily, curling an arm around your shoulders, “In my bed, no less.”

“That’s what you get for being so cute all the time. I’ve been staring at you for like, the past two months.”

“Ah...for a long time i assumed that there was always something stuck in my teeth. That uh, happens to me a lot.”

You press your ear to his chest, closing your eyes and listening to the sound of his heart, “Nah. Nothing stuck in your teeth. I just thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen.”

You hear him choke at that, his hand tightening around your shoulders, “You are...the most wonderful person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He plants a kiss to the top of your head, “I wouldn't be surprised if this was all a dream, that i’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll be gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, and the gentle thump of his heart slowly soothes you into sleep.

Hey guys. Note from Bree here. I hope that this was okay, I’ve been feeling really down on my writing recently and I’m really not sure why, but i just dont think anything im posting has been any good. So i just hope that you still enjoyed this even though its a mess. Im so worried that im losing nagito’s voice. im like, scared about it actually, cause this is the only thing im good at, you know? and what’s even the point of me if i cant do this one thing anymore...... ugh, sorry for being such a complain jane. i just, idk. the komaeda who lives in my head is calling me trash 24/7 hahahahahahahhaa

#komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa

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givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper - Part Twelve

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of drug use, fluff, smidge of angst? Length: 1.7k Notes: Managed to whip up this bad boy during a quiet moment today and should probably make y’all wait for it but I don’t really do posting schedules (as you’ve noticed) so enjoy. Not beta’d, not proof read, I’ll die on this messy hill.

Series Masterlist

Surprisingly, life didn't change too much after that night. Frankie continued to run his acreage and oversee the making of this year's cider. With some encouragement and support from you, he was starting to expand the business and already had a few pubs in the closest city clamouring to have his product on tap.

Meanwhile, the improvements on the house were nearing an end, for the indoors list anyways. The first thing Frankie had helped you do was to install your new soaker tub, immediately followed by christening it by making soft, slow love to you inside of it.

There hadn't even been any water, your impatience to be close to each other wouldn't allow for that. You had just stripped out of your coveralls, convenient work-wear for people who fucked like rabbits you had to admit, and sat in his lap with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His hands guiding your hips in a slow rocking motion, breathing each other's air as your open mouths hovered in a not-quite kiss, only breaking eye contact when you threw your head back as you came.

Autumn passed quickly and Winter had gripped Vermont, cloaking the countryside in a heavy blanket of white. Christmas was a cozy affair, you and Frankie had been asked to join Jacquie and Mark in their family's merriment. It had stirred something inside of you, watching a functional family laugh, sing, argue, eat, and love with such abandon.

It was everything you'd dreamt, initially, for your future with Brad. Now? Now you were starting to picture that future with Frankie's face as the patriarch, you just haven't built up the nerve to broach the subject yet.

You'd started working at the bakery, enjoying the early mornings surrounded by rising dough and sculling back coffees with the adorable older ladies who ran the place. You'd also begun doing the books for Morales Acres and Catfish Brewery. Frankie was a veritable genius but he claimed he had no patience for keeping receipts and tracking numbers.

You had a sneaking suspicion he was playing dumb in an effort to give you more time together but you really didn't mind. Your break-of-dawn mornings at the bakery had you tired, but after a full day of renovating or bookkeeping, you were downright exhausted and ready for bed by eight pm. This, mixed with Frankie monitoring the brewing, bottling, and distribution of his cider and networking at bars and pubs throughout the state meant the two of you rarely saw each other.

All of your hard work in your own house had made you a popular friend to call when someone needed decorating advice, or a helping hand once they realized they couldn't tile their kitchen backsplash solo. You never charged for your time, although payment had initially been offered until work had got around that you preferred a good meal and conversation over money. I mean, sure, you could use the cash but it just didn't seem right. And you loved helping people and making deeper connections with the town you now truly felt you belonged in.

Tuesday evenings had become an unofficial date night for the two of you. The bakery was closed on Wednesdays and bar owners tended to be less interested in business halfway through the week, something to do with the rush of the previous weekend having worn off and the worry of setting up for another one starting to grow.

This meant you could stay up late, enjoy a proper homemade dinner, maybe even watch a movie or share a bottle of wine while soaking in your big ass tub. It usually ended as a sleepover, your house being the preferred location; Frankie's loft was perfectly fine but it did lack a certain homey appeal.

This pattern, this life, that you'd created for yourself was making you happier than you'd ever been in your entire life. You weren't one hundred percent content, not yet anyway, but the path to getting there was on a direct trajectory. You still wanted to finish your college degree, maybe switch it over to horticulture. Building a greenhouse and selling flowers was still a pipe dream but something your heart truly longed for, something that Frankie was constantly encouraging you to do.

"Look, hun," he had called out to you a few weeks ago while supposedly researching the new line of bottles. "There's an auction next county over and they have all this confiscated stuff from a grow op that got busted!"

"What?" You'd made a face and laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What on earth would you use from a pot farm?"

He just gave you a salacious wink as an answer.

Frankie had been open about his past drug abuse and while some recovering addicts may want all mention of it banned from a conversation, Frankie found levity in treating the topic like any other person would.

It had taken you a couple of hours to realize why he'd brought up the auction. It had hit you with a jolt, knowing that he’d remembered your rambling from on top of the Ferris wheel. You didn't realize he'd been listening when you'd told him about your idea of taking over the flower stand at the market once the current couple retired.

Your heart had swelled and there was a concerted effort to prevent the sudden onset of tears from running down your face. God, you loved this man, maybe one of these days you should tell him...

This particular routine was working well for the two of you. It gave each of you your own space to relax, destress, enjoy the shitty tv shows you were too embarrassed to watch in front of another living person. It also forced the two of you to take your relationship slowly, communication being a constant learning curve. You were both really good and telling each other when you needed time alone, when you were feeling stressed or sad. You each had learned the tells for when the other was angry or just hungry, if it was hormones or if there was something that was actually pissing you off.

The thing you each seemed to struggle with was expressing the softer side of the relationship. Neither of you appeared to have the Words of Affirmation love language skill, yet you both craved to hear it. You showed how much you cared for Frankie with your acts of service; helping him with the boring side of the business, baking, deep cleaning the loft, even scrubbing out the massive fermenter in the Catfish Cider warehouse.

Frankie, on the other hand, showed his love through physical touch. At first, you had assumed it was a staking-his-claim kind of thing but then you noticed how he'd do it all the time. A hand on your lower back while walking, caressing your hand with his thumb when driving in the truck, carding his fingers through your hair while you watched tv.

This week's date night found you at his place, relaxing in the loft after a busy workday. You were making dinner while he 'helped' by sneaking bites of the prepped ingredients, arm slung around you with a hand in your back pocket.

"What're you looking for?" He asked, taking advantage of your distracted searching through his cupboards to sneak a few more pinches of grated cheese.

"A can opener!" You replied, exasperation raising your voice an octave. "I could have sworn I saw a white one around here somewhere..."

“No, pretty sure that one's yours. I don't think I have one?"

"Frankie," you deadpanned "how did you survive as a bachelor without canned food?"

"I ate a lot of take-out?" He looked indignant at your laughter, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Can you stop judging me long enough to eat some burritos?"

Smoothing his playful scowl with a kiss, you sat down at the counter and enjoyed your first meal together of the week.

An idea was formulating in the back of your mind, though, and you barely tasted anything. As the evening progressed, the idea grew and you were liking it more and more. The final straw was you not having a toothbrush in his bathroom anymore, having forgotten that it had fallen off the counter and into the trashcan the last time you'd spent the night.

Using his, with a strange mixture of distaste and nonchalance, before making your way over to the bed, you began to plan how the conversation could go:

Hey Frankie, so you know how I have a big house all to myself? Yeah... And it had everything we need in it? Yeah... And there's more than enough room for two adults to store all of their things? Yeah... And I wouldn't have to use your toothbrush ever again? Yea- wait what? I think you should move in with me.

It wasn't very romantic but it was the most likely, considering your dynamic. Just as you were crawling into bed and snuggling under the arm he'd raised to allow you to get closer, his cell phone rang.

"Hello? - This is he. - Yeah, biological. - Oh god, when?"

The immediate change in his tone from questioning to horrified caught your attention, sitting up to face him you grabbed his free hand, silently letting him know you were there for support.

His eyes were out of focus and a panicked expression was slowly morphing his face as the conversation went on, but he gave your hand a squeeze back in acknowledgement.

"Yes, in Vermont. Do you have my address? - Okay, good, good...okay - When? - I'll have something ready. Umm... does she... does she remember me? - Oh. Okay, thank you."

Slowly lowering the phone from his ear, Frankie sat staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. His side of the conversation and the way he was reacting had you rattled. You could guess as to what was happening but weren't sure if now was the right time to pry.

"Babe? Is, is everything okay?"

Silence.

Gripping his hand tighter and rubbing his back you sat with him for a few more minutes before trying again. You didn’t want to push him but your heart was constricting in your chest from nervousness and concern for him.

"Can I get you anything? What do you need?"

His hand was now completely dead in yours; eventually, he turned his head towards you, eyes never fully focusing, and shook his head.

"I- she- fuck... I think you should go.”

Part Thirteen

#Frankie Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x Fem!Reader #Francisco Morales x F!Reader #Francisco Catfish Morales x Fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x you

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azucanela · 4 years

Note

Could you do another Sokka with the fire nation reader and maybe something domestic? Something after the war potentially? Please and thank you!!!

SERENE SHORES | SOKKA X READER

SUMMARY: after years of chaos, Y/N can’t help but feel weird when everything is peaceful. but hey, weird can be nice. especially when weird is with sokka.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, soft, pretty basic.

A/N: this is gonna be the least heartbreaking thing i’ll ever write super domestic 10/10 soft. also it feels wrong to not write something thats like 10k words of pining askhdkjsah also this is weirdest title ever im sorry

The sun poured into the room, indicating that Sokka had in fact, awoken, and opened the curtains, much to Y/N’s dismay. They were on vacation and yet he still insisted on waking up at the most ungodly of hours to work. Y/N had no doubt that he’d heard the whispers in the Southern Water Tribe, he’d done so much for the small nation that Y/N wasn’t shocked when rumors of Sokka potentially becoming the next chief came about. He was still young, but that didn’t stop people from talking, and maybe thats why he was putting so much pressure on himself.

But it was vacation, on Ember Island, alongside the rest of their friends. They’d agreed to head out later in the day together, to the beach to catch up with one another. Regardless, Y/N couldn’t help but groan, running a hand through her hair when she realized Sokka had gotten up early for no reason. Y/N had searched him prior to their departure to the island, ensuring he had no work at all, and yet here they were.

Sitting up in the bed, she stretched out her arms, allowing the sun to hit her face. Y/N squinted at the sudden brightness as she moved to stand, a wave of dizziness washed over her momentarily, causing her legs to wobble as she took her first few steps of the day. Y/N quickly recovered as she made her way outside of the room, bringing a hand to her forehead as she sighed. The Ember Island rooms were like small homes at this point, so Y/N wasn’t shocked to find Sokka in the kitchen, cutting up some fruits into the bowl.

He looks up at her, a smile on his face as he put the knife down and tries his best to lean against the counter alluringly, only for his elbow to miss the edge of the counter. Sokka stumbles slightly, causing Y/N to laugh as she greets him, “hi there.”

“Hey, beautiful.” Sokka greets, recovering from his fall as he jogs over to press a kiss to her cheek, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

Y/N hums in response, wrapping her arms around his torso, “why are you out of bed?” She presses a kiss to his jaw before resting her head on his chest.

“I was making breakfast, per usual.” Comes his reply. Y/N had found that Sokka was actually a great roommate, he tended to wake up early to handle his duties in the Southern Water Tribe. Which meant he’d cook breakfast for the two of them, and get his fair share of cleaning done.

Y/N is pulling herself away from him to grab his hand and pull him towards the bedroom, “let’s go back to bed.” It was vacation, and they could probably order some sort of room service seeing as Ember Island was practically a resort.

“We have to meet the others later.” Sokka reasoned, resisting her aggressive yanks at his arm, feet remaining firmly planted on the floor.

Y/N playfully glares at him, “yeah, later. Not now, we have time. I don’t know why you woke up so early.” She’s scolding him, mostly because he’s been having trouble sleeping lately, and refuses to drink the tea she offered him. Iroh had kindly taught her how to make a ‘proper’ cup of tea, as he’d put it.

“It’s midday.” He points out, causing Y/N’s eyes to widen a fraction, her eyes flickering over to the windows momentarily as she tries to understand how she managed to sleep well into the middle of the day.

Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, brows furrowing in confusion as she looks to Sokka, “are you serious?”

Sokka blinks once before throwing his head back in laughter, “yes!”

With a rather aggressive tug at Sokka’s arm, Y/N pulled him closer bringing her free hand to his cheek as she pulled him in for a kiss. Sokka melted into it, bringing both his arms to hand loosely around her waist

It was peaceful. Watching him look so happy, the way the sunlight gleamed on his face as Y/N practically tackled him onto the bed, the bright smile on his face lit up the room more than the sun ever could. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen these things and she certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last. And given how few threats of war and death and chaos there had been lately, Y/N had a feeling that she wouldn’t have to worry about losing Sokka to some insane enemy anytime soon.

Y/N hated how weird it felt. Being able to relax for once because there’s no threat of impending doom, no need to be alert despite the habit she’d developed to always have a hand ready to grab the knife at her side. Y/N hated that she couldn’t allow herself a moment of peace even though there was nothing to worry about.

Even when the war had ended, Y/N had to be on her toes for all the riots that started across the world. She and the rest of Team Avatar weren’t necessarily prepared for all the diplomatic work that had to be done to repair all the damage that had been done to the world during the 100 years of war. Aang had a lot of other issues to handle as the Avatar, Katara and Sokka had to work on rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe, Toph had to handle her parents though she had favored spreading the wonders of metalbending instead. Zuko was rebuilding the Fire Nation was simultaneously tearing down the century’s worth of brainwashing. And as for Y/N, she was just trying to figure out where she fit in to all this.

For the first time in a long time, nothing was going on. Y/N didn’t need to bring her weapons, and she didn’t need to look over her shoulder ever moment for potential enemies. And it felt weird.

They’d returned to Ember Island for a vacation, a reward to themselves for everything they’d done. And it had been a while since they’d been able to actually catch up, Y/N wouldn’t deny it, though they saw each other fairly frequently when it seemed the world was about to end, time to talk was rare. And now that they could talk, she didn’t know what to say.

Yeah, it felt weird.

Sokka’s arm had wrapped around her waist, and Y/N found herself watching as he threw his head back in laughter at something Toph had said. The girl in question seemed pretty pleased with herself, Zuko on the other hand was looking rather embarrassed. Not that Y/N was really paying attention to the conversation. They had gotten to the beach not too long ago, and Y/N had a feeling they would stay awhile, but she was a little busy getting lost in her own thoughts.

Was it wrong of her to wonder what happened next now that they had entered what would —hopefully— be an era of peace? The only person who could probably remember such a time was Aang, seeing as he was born before the war started, officially started that is.

Pushing away those thoughts, Y/N returned her attention to the conversation at hand, “you know what, the rest of you never grew up with Sokka’s whining in the mornings— Y/N knows what I mean, right?”

Y/N found herself straightening beside Sokka, “actually, Sokka cooks me breakfast in the mornings, and he’s surprisingly neat, so I have no complaints.” She lets out a small laugh, and Y/N can feel Sokka’s eyes on her figure as everyone else laughs once more.

“Thank you Y/N, see I can be a fantastic roommate.” Sokka asserted, throwing a playful glare to Katara as he squeezed Y/N’s side gently. She and Sokka had gotten together shortly after the war, and they’d been living together for a while. Seeing as they travelled together for over a year, there wasn’t really much of an adjustment period if Y/N was honest, and Sokka was a model roommate.

Sokka sits up suddenly, causing Y/N to raise a brow at him as she shifts in her seat, only for him to extend a hand to her, “I’m going for a walk, wanna come?”

She takes his hand, offering him a smile as she sits up as well, “yes.”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N can see Aang move to speak, only for Toph to swat at his chest when he tries to stand, and Katara to glare harshly. Zuko simply watches the interaction in confusion, brow furrowing as Katara beams up at the couple, “have fun!”

Sokka fought the urge to roll his eyes as he took Y/N by the hand and began to drag her away from the campsite. He’d noticed her behavior, something was bothering her. Of course, Katara was reading into things again, she and Gran Gran had grown a little obsessed in regards to his relationship with Y/N. Mostly because Gran Gran insisted that she had to live to see the wedding.

Oh god, Katara must’ve thought he intended to propose—

Y/N had gathered that much as well, it wasn’t something the two had discussed yet, mostly because they’d never had time. When they officially got together, everything was so chaotic they just never had the time, and now that they had the time, well neither of them had tried to broach the topic. Katara on the other hand seemed to continue her meddlesome ways, trying to put the idea into Y/N’s head time and time again during their conversations.

Y/N did not approve.

The pair walked silently across the coast line, water washing up against their bare feet as Sokka comically swung their hands back and forth, earning a small laugh from Y/N. She came to the realization that as badly as she wanted to avoid this conversation, it was necessary. Looking up at him, her brows furrowed as she spoke, “don’t let Katara... pressure you into anything, okay?”

Sokka frowned, pausing as he walked, “don’t tell me she’s been talking to you about-”

“Marriage.” They both muttered, simultaneously. The pair burst into laughter, and Sokka simply shook his head. Katara had obviously been discussing the subject with the both of them.

Sokka simply facepalms, and Y/N finds herself smiling as she watches him, “I’m sorry that she’s been bothering you about that, even though I told her not to.” He turns back to look at the camp, that’s still visible in the distance, Katara is giving him a thumbs up alongside Toph, though the young girl is facing the wrong direction. A show of support as he attempts to ‘propose’ to Y/N, though he didn’t intend to, not today at least.

Y/N offers him a nervous smile, pulling his attention away from their friends as they continued to walk, “it’s fine.” Another silence consumes them, and Y/N finds herself biting her lip as her gaze returns to Sokka, “have you thought about it though?”

“Marriage?” Sokka asks, looking to her with wide eyes, “of course, I have. But we’re still young...” He trails off, tilting his head at Y/N as he mumbles, “have you?”

She shrugs, looking to the horizon, where the sun is slowly disappearing and the night sky begins to reveal itself, “honestly? Not really, no.” Y/N can practically feel Sokka deflate beside her, and quickly continues, “not because I don’t want to marry you. I just... I don’t know I never had...”

“Time. To think about it?” Sokka offered when she trailed off. He understood, in a way. They weren’t able to think much of the future while on the run, mostly because the future was a luxury that they were unsure they’d ever get.

Y/N simply looks to him, nodding slowly she can feel her cheeks warm as she exhales deeply. “I want to though.” Her voice is quiet, probably because its the first time she admitting it to herself, that she does want to marry Sokka. There was always a small part of her that wondered what that would be like, and maybe moving in with him solidified the idea in her mind. Y/N didn’t know.

Maybe it was cliché but Sokka had known since they’d met.

“I’ve thought about it for a while.” He mumbles, fidgeting with her hand.

A smile graces Y/N’s face as she raises a brow, “what have you thought about?” She can’t help but feel curious, she’s well aware of how meticulously he plans things, and if he’s thought about their potential wedding it means he not only sees her in his future, but he also likely spent a lot of time considering minor details about the wedding.

Sokka’s eyes are glued to her hands as he responds, “you would look really pretty in a wedding dress.” If Sokka was honest, she looked pretty in everything, but the idea of marrying her? It had crossed his mind in the past, several times.

She’s never seen him this shy and subdued before, and Y/N can’t help but feel shocked at how soft his voice sounds when he speaks. So, she finds herself considering what this imaginary wedding would be like. Yet all she manages to say is, “I was thinking about how I would never get married on a beach.”

A small laugh escapes Sokka, “you hate sand.” They’d learnt that the hard way the last time they were at Ember Island, just before the end of the war. Sokka had spent about an hour convincing Y/N to come down to the beach despite her hatred of sand. She ended up agreeing— more accurately being forced to head down to the beach seeing as Sokka practically threw her over his shoulder and carried her there. Y/N vividly recalled the violent words she’d yelled at him when he threw her into the ice cold water.

Y/N is laughing alongside him, nodding, “I do.”

She’d be saying those words again, not too far in the future. And maybe this possibility is why Y/N decides that she likes this whole peace thing, standing on the serene shores of Ember Island. Life is good when you aren’t worried about impending doom all the time, and its even better with Sokka in it. Y/N wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her life with him.

“Let’s prank Katara into thinking you proposed.” She suggested, grinning at Sokka. If the girl was so insistent on meddling with their relationship, then why not get a little revenge?

Sokka seemed to like this idea, as his eyes iit up at her words, “I love you, so much.” He exclaimed, grabbing Y/N’s face with both hands and pulling her into a kiss.

Y/N finds herself smiling into the kiss, pulling away to say, “I know.”

“You’re supposed to say it back.” Sokka is pouting now, trapping her in his arms as he awaits the response he wants.

Y/N hummed in reply, a pensive look on her face as she pretended to consider his words, “I guess I love you too.”

“You guess?!”

Hopefully their honeymoon would be far less chaotic, and further away from sand.

A/N: lol writing something happy when you are sad is not it so im sorry that this is bad but i tried 🥺

#sokka x reader #sokka atla x reader #atla sokka x reader #atla x reader #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #lok x reader #legend of korra

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