#it's nearly one thirty in the morning. i should probably just go shower | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dasleidenderanderen · 1 year

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St. Martha's (Original work)

On second thought it should not have been a big surprise to him.

You would actually think, six years at university and one year working as a doctor would have taught him enough to know it was not his best idea to come to work that day.

They were lacking manpower, with two colleagues at maternity leave, four more on vacation and another one trying to improve his ultrasound skills far away in Berlin.

So when he woke with a slight headache and the feeling that his body temperature was not exactly within normal range, he decided to go to work anyway. It was Friday already and he would have the whole weekend to rest from there.

An ibuprofen, a quick shower and some coffee and soon he was sitting on his bike, cycling through morning traffic. It was twenty past seven, when he passed the apothecary with the thermostat above its sign.

21°C.

It had not cooled down as much as he would have liked during the night, so probably today would be one of these too hot summer days. He nearly felt envious towards his colleagues working at the emergency room this month. Of course their job was more stress full, but at least the rooms there were air conditioned.

He had thirty minutes left to prepare his day, before he had to go to the morning meeting.

Inside his office, the air felt thick enough to be cut. He opened the windows, enjoying the cooler air filling his lungs.

The meeting lasted a little longer than usual, but finally it ended and he was able to start his rounds. He made a good pace, with no emergencies during the night and not to many complicated cases.

He handed his charts to one of the nurses, crabbed another coffee and left for his office to do some paperwork.

Lime followed him about fifteen minutes later.

They sat in silence, completing files medicine controlling was waiting for.

He had finished three files, before his temples started hurting again. He leaned back a little, rubbing at his temples and took a sip of his coffee. It was cold by now, but that did not bother him.

Around twelve o’clock Lime put away the last file from his desk and rose from his chair, stretching his arms and back.

“Time for lunch, I’d say”, he said, waiting for him to come along.

“I will just finish this and crap something later. I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“Bye.”

He even tried to do some more of his work, but his headache seemed to grow with every minute. He was hot and cold at the same moment. He felt his one forehead, but was not sure, if he was running a fever.

His search for some more ibuprofen inside their office was not successfull, he only found an empty blister. So he left the office and went for the nurses’ station..

“Are you looking for something?”

He nearly jumped when one of the nurses stepped beside him as he rampaged through the cupboards. She had not been there, when he came in.

“Fuck, Linda, don’t scare me like that.” He rubbed his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.

“A little jumpy, aren’t we? What were you looking for? You should know, the good stuff is not in here”, she joked.

“Ha ha, very funny. Actually I just need some ibu, but I still don’t get how you sort this stuff.” There was a tickle in his throat and he turned away to cough in the crook of his arm.

“That doesn’t sound too healthy, James.”

He shrugged his shoulders and she opened a door to his left taking a package from one of its upper shelves.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.” It came out a little rough.

He took out one of the blisters, storing the rest again on the shelf.

He could feel Linda’s eyes on him, as he swallowed one of the pills.

“You know, we have tea and water just around the corner. I would even have brought you some, if you would have asked me.”

“That’s nice of you, thank you.”

He involuntarily rubbed his arms when a shiver ran through him.

Linda rose he left eye-brow. “Are you..”

Her question was interrupted by an emergency call from one of the patient rooms. She rolled her eyes, “I don’t know when the technicians will finally have repaired that damn bell”, but nevertheless went to take a look.

He stayed, waiting for the signal to stop, but the signal coming from room 207 was not cut off.

Shit.</i

Of course he had been anticipating an emergency, but he was not really prepared, for what he found when he reached the room.

Linda was kneeling on the floor beside an elderly man, holding him to his side as blood was spraying from his mouth.

The bedsheets. The floor. Linda’s cloth.

Never before had he seen that much blood.

He was on his phone even before he had reached them: “Walters here, I have an emergency in room 207. We need the rescue team right away. Patient is puking up blood. Unconscious. Call the laboratory to bring us blood, and the endoscopy and the ICU to be on standby. We will be there as soon as we have him stabilized.”

He took over Linda’s position, while she ran to get the emergency kit.

Patient in recovery position. Airways free.

Breathing: not steady but there, a little wet.

Recap: to slow.

“I need some Jono, Linda! At least he still has an iv-access.”

“Shit, I think he just stopped breathing.”

“What?! No, no no. Turn him around. 1,2,3,4...Get out the Ambu...7,8,9,10. Where is that fucking rescue team, we need more hands in here. ….17,18,19,20…alright, we can do this. Give me that Ambu bag and get me some epinephrine….28,29,30.”

Two ventilations. Another cycle of CPR.

“I have the epinephrine ready.”

“Okay, administer it, then get me another iv-access and another infusion”... 20,21,22…

Sweat was dropping in his eyes, but there was no time to brush it way.

… two more ventilations…

“Call Lime or anyone you may reach.”

He heard her speaking on the phone, as he tried to concentrate on the situation.

Infusion, epinephrine … fuck, fuck,fuck.

“Linda! Get me the intubation kit!”

...20,21...

“Ready.”

… 25,26...

“Okay, we need to switch. 28,29,30.”

She took over his position.

He had not intubated often before.

Opening the patient’s mouth, inserting the laryngoscope he searched for the epiglottis. There was blood everywhere, blocking his sight, but finally he found the right spot.

“Linda, stop!”

He inserted the tube and blocked its balloon, connected the Ambu.

Linda checked the position with a stethoscope as he gave two more ventilations.

Nodding she started the CPR again, while he secured the tube, so it would not get dislocated.

Just when he wanted to announce another switch, foot steps could be heard and finally the rescue team was there, with Lime only steps behind them and a nurse in training, carrying a box with blood preservations.

He stayed in his position as they took over, following the team leader's instructions, as they prepared the defibrillator, only letting go, when they decided to give the first shock, followed by the next CPR circle.

“...28,29,30…”

Rhythm control. Sinus rhythm. Pulse control.

“Well done, ladies and gentlemen. We have a return of circulation. Let’s get him back in bed, so we can bring him upstairs for intervention.”

He helped them towards the elevator, then stayed behind, as the doors closed.

“Wow. That was intense”, Lime said beside him.

“Mhm.”

“Congratulations, that was only your third intubation, wasn’t it?”

There was some ringing in his ears, as his adrenaline levels crashed. He rubbed against them, but the ringing only grew louder, as his vision started tunnelling.

“I need t’ sit down.”

“Yeah, I know how ...WOW! What the hell!”

Lime just barely managed to get a hold of him, as his knees buckled, stopping him from hitting the floor undamped, helping him down.

He was sitting with his back against the wall next to the elevator, his head on his knees, trying to get a hold of himself. Even in his sitting position he still felt faint.

Lime kneeled down beside him.

“Next time you could be a little more clear, when you’re trying to tell me your going to pass out.”

It should have been a joke, but just now he could not find any fun in it. His head hurt, his brain seemed to be made of jelly, he felt hot and cold, a patient in his care nearly had died, the fucking rescue team had taken its time and there was still blood everywhere along his arms and cloths.

He tried his best to suppress the sobs as tears started running down his face, but was not very successful.

“Hey, hey. Not need to cry. You did really well.” Lime’s hand landed on his dark curls, stroking down to rest on his shoulders. “Take a few deep breaths and then we will go and...” He stopped mid sentence, touching his neck left and right. “Fuck, I think you’re running a fever. Are you alright?”

He nodded, then shrugged and finally shook his head.

More tears streamed down his face and a sob forced itself from his throat. Lime laid an arm around his shoulder.

Visitors and patients were walking by, eyeing them suspiciously, as they sat side by side. Finally a nurse stopped.

“Do you need some help? Is he hurt?”

“No, just sick I guess. Maybe you could find me a wheelchair so we can get him out of public view.”

“Of course.” She changed directions and soon was back with the chair.

Together they helped him to sit down.

“Thanks, I think I have it from here.”

“No problem. Get him to take some rest. Bye, bye. Hope you feel better soon, Walt.”

On every other day he would have been embarrassed to be pushed along the corridors in a wheelchair, but he was out of it enough today, to barely realize it.

Lime brought him to the nurse’s station, pushing him to the back and into the rec room.

Linda and two other nurses jumped from their seats, as they stepped inside.

“James! What happened?”

“He fainted on me in the corridor. I think he’s running a fever. Could anyone get me a thermometer.”

“Here you go”, said Ella before she pushed the gadget inside his left ear.

“41,3 °C”, she announced when it beeped.

“You’re not doing anything by half, do you?”, Lime said.

He again only shrugged. It did not madder to him anymore. His head pounded and he only wished to lay down anywhere to get some rest.

“Joe, could you bring me some ibuprofen?”, Lime asked.

“Six hundred or eight hundred?”

“Eight.”

That rose him a little from his daze.

“Already took some.”

“In the morning?”

“No, he came to get some, mere seconds before the emergency occurred.”

“So that would be about an hour ago. Should actually have kicked in by then. How much did you drink today, Walt?”

He thought about it. The events of the day a little fuzzy.

“Two cups of coffee I think, ma’be three.”

“You know you doctors are pretty stupid sometimes, don’t you?”, Linda declared.

“Okay, change of plan then”, Lime said, ignoring her statement. “I need an iv-kit, five hundred millilitre of Jono, a bottle of water, a glass and one gram of paracetamol.”

“Per os or as short infusion.”

“Per os should just do fine.”

Lime picked out his phone, while the nurses went to get everything. He held it between his shoulder and ear, while he searched for a good vein. “Hi Ted, just wanted to tell you I need someone to cover me for an hour and someone for Walt for the rest of the day, while I take him home. ... No, no emergency, but he’s running a nice fever, probably the flu or something similarly nasty. … Okay. We wait for the meds to kick in, then we leave. I will switch my phone to yours, as soon as we leave and call you as soon as I’m back again. …. Yeah, I will tell him. Thanks for your help. … Bye.”

While he had spoken, he had managed to insert the iv-access and attached it with a patch. Linda gave him the iv-line and he connected it, starting the infusion.

“Ted wants me to tell you to get better soon”, Lime said. He turned towards the nurses. “I will just run and finish a few things before I take him home. Can you have an eye on him for me?”

They nodded and he left for the office.

He took the Benuron they gave him. Then they left to take care of their work, coming back now and then to make sure he was alright. He drifted in and out of sleep, resting his head on his arms on the table in front of him.

“Walt?” Someone gently shook his shoulder. “Walt, I need to take your temperature again.”

He lifted his head allowing Ella to reach his ear.

“38,7. Not great, but at least a little better.”

“Good enough for me”, Lime said. “I will take him home. Ted is in charge while we are gone. You may call him anytime.”

Ella disconnected him from the iv and pulled out the access, glueing a swab over the little hole it had left, so no blood would ooze from it.

“Ready to go?”, Lime asked. “Here, take your bag. I’m not sure if I found everything, but at least you’re mobile phone, your wallet and your keys are inside.”

He tried to get up, but Lime pushed him back down. “You stay seated. I will drive you to my car. I do not wish for you to split your head on the pavement outside.”

He felt his ears turning red. “Thanks.”

“No need for that. Just promise me you will be taking better care of yourself in the future.”

#medical accuracy #sickfic #hospital #doctor #fever #fainting

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blackbat05 · 3 years

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Period Shenanigans

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: Lol so my period came one week earlier than what my period tracker stated? But thank goodness I’m at home and I don’t have any schedules because I would be dead. I try not to arrange anything if I can help it especially on my first few days. What I write is what I experience and what helps me during my period but disclaimer, it may not work for everyone! Hope you liked this impromptu idea that came out of my head. I’m finally done with 10 weeks of placement! Just a little more~ Like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG-13

Warnings: Shangqi not being like most men and being so caring? Blood (but come on if you can see blood on action movies why not this?) and a whole load of fluff I guess? Oh an one explicit word too haha

The two of you come back from your morning runs as usual. Shower and breakfast was next. But after thirty minutes you didn’t come out of your room.

Shangqi decides to make a visit to make sure that nothing happened to you. ‘Y/N?’ He knocks on your door first. ‘You ok?’ He pressed his ear against the door, straining his ears. All he heard was a few unintelligible muffles. ‘I’m coming in ok?’

He made sure that he received your acknowledgement before slowly opening the door. There you were, crawled up on your bed, a hot pack on your tummy.

‘Fuck…’ you groaned as you tried to find the best position. Couldn’t you just live like a normal human being during this time of the month? Evidently god had other plans.

Let’s face it, at this moment you would have been embarrassed for Shangqi to see you in this state. But first, you were too tired to even care. Second, Shangqi was best friends with Katy before he met you. Surely he had seen enough.

He knows the protocol at the back of his head. Giving you a few reassuring taps on the shoulder, he leaves your room to prepare the essentials.

Tea, painkillers, sliced bananas and your favorite chocolate biscuits. Oh, don’t forget your humongous stuffed penguin that laid at the corner of your room but you were unable to get because of the pain that had nearly paralyzed you.

‘And the portable phone charger because I know you’ll be watching Running Man non stop,’ he passes you the object in question. ‘Be careful not to burst you appendix while laughing ok?’

You punched his shoulder lightly as a form of thanks. ‘What the hell would I do without you Shangqi,’ you adjusted your position to achieve maximum comfort on the bed. ‘Come on, watch with me,’ gesturing for him to sit next to you.

For the next 3 hours or so, you spend a good time with Shangqi laughing at the antics that the show provided. It was a good way to ignore the pain that was slowly going away by the minute.

Having your period meant that you were more tired than usual. After sipping the last bit of tea, you eyes felt heavier by the minute, eventually nodding off on Shangqi’s shoulder.

He slowly cradles your head, bringing it down on the pillow. Making sure that the blanket covered you, he cleaned the remaining stuff before leaving your room.

Sleep definitely helped. You woke up about an hour later to the unmistakable smell of macaroni soup boiling. Still in Shangqi’s oversized hoodie, you carried the stuffed penguin out like a little kid, making your way towards the kitchen.

There he was, donning an apron that said ‘World’s Best Cook’.

‘That’s kind of an exaggeration don’t you think?’ You teased, causing him to turn around. ‘Well, I must have woke you up because of this wonderful smell,’ he jokes back, taking a sip of the soup to test its taste. Satisfied, he closes back the lid to let it boil a bit more.

You appreciated what he did for you whenever your first few days of Niagara Falls proved to be physically taxing on you. But you just had one question…

‘When did you learn to cook Macaroni soup?’

‘Uh well,’ he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. ‘I called your mom earlier while you were asleep. She was kind enough to give me a idiot proof recipe for a cooking newbie like me.’

Appreciated? Scratch that out. You were stunned that he actually went to such lengths to make you feel better. You remembered when you were younger, your mother would cook you a bowl of warm macaroni soup. The chicken broth was light and easy on the stomach but still very filling.

Shangqi notices that you’re just standing there, not saying a word. He worries that maybe he went too far. Should he apologize? Should he just tell you that he wanted to help? Should he-

You come forward to hug him. ‘Thank you Shangqi. I’m probably saying this too many times for my own good but this means a lot to me.’

Wanda and Vision just came back from their Sunday grocery shopping. As Vision was about to walk through the walls to get through the kitchen, Wanda stops him.

‘What is it dear?’

‘I think we can wait. We don’t have any cold things to put in the fridge right?’ Vision shakes his head as he followed her looking very puzzled.

Wanda could see you and Shangqi at the kitchen counter. He was standing across you, eagerly watching you take the first sip, as if waiting for a stamp of approval. Your genuine reaction brings a huge smile to his face as he starts telling you his adventures in the kitchen, you laughing at his exaggerated account multiple times.

The two of you were basically in your own world.

Wanda was like a big sister to you since you came here from Madripoor. She felt herself constantly needing to protect you as despite your abilities, your kind heart served as a danger out in the field.

But ever since you knew the Martial Arts master, Wanda felt like she did not have to worry anymore. She knew that you were surrounded by good friends who would have your back out on the field and for this instance - when you weren’t feeling your best.

She quickly makes her leave before you spot her.

But Shangqi did as he was facing the door. He sees the sorceress put a finger to her lips. So he naturally goes back to the conversation with you.

While you finish the last bit of soup, Shangqi takes a quick peek at the entrance again. Wanda was still there but this time it looked like she had something to say to him. She must have used her abilities as his brain suddenly felt strange.

‘Thank you Shangqi for being with her.’

A/N: Yo this was supposed to be a period headcanon? Or is it just my hormones speaking that makes me unusually emotional. Anyways, hope you enjoyed another Shangqi headcanon again!😂 You have my period to thank for that.

Also can I just say I think my standards have changed? Like if a guy’s really considerate to me on my period like hell I think that’s just really neat in my books because unfortunately I haven’t come across any in real life🥲

#shang chi #xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #shang chi x reader #shangqi

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

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In a Heartbeat - Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?” His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”

315 notes · View notes

bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Tired Feet and Nimble Fingers

Sooo.....

I wrote more Ravio fics. This is one of two, the second one still needs to be reread and checked for errors, but rest assured to whomever requested a fic for Ravio getting some fussing, I nearly killed the kid for you :)

Mr. Hero had nice hands.

Oh sure, they were rather thin, and a bit knobby at the knuckles, aged in a way most people their age would not understand for decades yet, but they were nimble, quick, and forever flitting from one thing to another with the easy grace of a person who’s done everything with their life except sit still and rest.

Mr. Hero’s hands were worn and aged but feather light in their touch and still impossibly firm when he’d grab Ravio by the scarf and pull him down the one inch that was between the two of them so he could glare at him for one thing or another. Honestly, he rarely really did anything questionable, but the ever irritated “Why?” that Mr. Hero always shot at him when he raised the price of an item or tacked on another fee, be it emotional repercussions charges for tending his wounds, or a petty increase when he’d been made to actually worry for someone else, or even in the rare instance when Mr. Hero managed to actually make him angry. Either way, soft or firm, Mr. Hero had nice hands, and on the rare instance Ravio had actually seen him remove his rings (Mr. Hero had complained of swelling, and had nearly had to pry them off) he always smiled at the sight of them.

Was that weird? Probably. But there was a lot you could tell about a person by their hands, and Mr. Hero’s told the story of someone who gave and fought for others since he’d been able, and even if the caring person hid behind the shadows of his bangs or the icy pain in his eyes, Ravio knew that person was still in there.

And at times like this, he got to actually see it.

“What are you doing?” The merchant shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the other end of the couch where Mr. Hero had been sitting since he’d stumbled through the door with a tired groan. He’d collapsed onto the couch not long after, drenched and covered in mud, and it had been all Ravio could do to convince him to shed his extra layers and change into something clean, at least. Sure, he’d had to actually dig through the scant wardrobe in the bedroom to find something, but once the over-sized tunic had been shoved in the veteran hero’s face, he’d agreed to strip off his wet things, and Ravio had given him the space to do so while he’d made some warm cocoa for the two of them.

He would have preferred cider, but Mr. Hero still refused to share the recipe with him.

Now, however, he’d flopped onto the couch himself, uncaring for the fact that he’d had to settle his legs in the lap of his friend. After all, if Mr. Hero minded, he would have pushed him off. As was though, the pink-haired teen was staring at his feet with no small amount of displeasure, and Ravio was half considering pulling them back to himself and resigning himself to just curling up on the couch into one corner so he could give the other boy his space.

Firm hands latched around his boot, tugging with a small grunt and surprising the merchant greatly. “Mr. Hero, I just-”

“No shoes.” The pink-haired hero huffed. “Not on the couch.”

“Says the one who trudges dirt all over my freshly cleaned floors!” Ravio huffed, trying not to wiggle too much as Mr. Hero not only pulled off his shoes but, after making a disgusted face at the smell of his feet, had also yanked his socks off, throwing them over to the pile of sopping laundry on the floor. Ravio made a note to pick that up and help wash it later.

“My floors.” Mr. Hero corrected him, tugging the towel Ravio had given him earlier off of his shoulders and wiping its wet ends over the merchant’s feet, making him stiffen. “It’s my house I’ll have you know.”

“Mr. Hero, are you- are you cleaning my feet?”

“It’s not like you ever do it, when’s the last time you bathed, you filthy bunny?”

“Two days ago.” Ravio huffed into his cocoa, savoring the taste and the thrum of warmth that bloomed in his chest both at the drink and the sensation of Mr. Hero’s nimble fingers helping to clean the grime from his, admittedly, filthy feet. “More recently than you, I daresay, Mr. Hero.”

“I just showered.” Violet eyes flitted up to meet his as Mr. Hero motioned to the door ad likely the stormy weather outside.

“That doesn’t count!”

“It does for me.”

“When did you last bathe? With soap?”

Mr. Hero didn’t answer, instead continuing to rub the dirt and dust off the bottoms of his house-mate's feet with the wet towel. Ravio hmphed. A fight for another day then, it isn’t as if he had the energy to draw a bath and push his friend into it anyways.

A delightful, rough sensation rubbed over the base of his foot, firm and still somehow incredibly relaxing, and the bunny merchant found himself torn between sinking into the cushions with a sigh as some of the pain in his limbs faded and staring down at Mr. Hero to see what had been done. In the end, he’d sunk into the cushions of the couch, lids fluttering as a heavy sigh pulled itself from his lungs. “What-”

“You’re as tight-string as my gran’s horses.” Mr. Hero drawled, and the sensation repeated itself, warm pressure sliding across the ridge of his foot. “This used to work on my uncle, relax.”

It took longer than necessary to actually realize that his friend was rubbing his feet, but Ravio was too warm and comfortable to really care, especially with how sore the appendages in question had been with scurrying here and there over the last few days tending to the shop.

Mr. Hero’s hands were miracle workers, and Ravio was hardly even awake when the veteran hero had finally stopped with his self-assigned task, pushing himself up and leaving Ravio to stretch out over the length of the couch. All the merchant could register was the increase of weight on top of him, the clinking of two empty mugs being placed in the kitchen sink, and the door creaking open.

He never felt the draft when Mr. Hero left back into the outside world to continue his quest, but when he woke the next morning, it was to find the hero’s favorite blanket spread out over the top of him and a fresh pair of fuzzy socks slipped over his clean and no longer painfully tense feet.

“Ravio, sit.” Mr. Hero groaned, leaning back on the couch and pinned in place by the sailor using his legs as a back rest. “If you don’t, I swear I’m going to have Twilight throw you at the couch!”

The merchant in question pouted, he’d been trying his best to tidy the living room, after all, Mr. Hero and his family had been quite unexpected that evening and the place was, unfortunately, a mess. One had to take inventory now and again, and the sad fact of it was that that required pulling everything off the shelves and out of storage and from around the house to count it up and figure out if he should risk attempting to return to Lorule or attempting to work Mr. Hero’s small smithy out back in order to restock his items.

He’d only counted up everything and had been working on cleaning and polishing his various items when the heroes had come knocking at the front door, and then he’d been so busy helping them warm up from the chill (they were all wearing the scarves he’d given them and it pleased him to no end) and making a meal with Mr. Hero that he’d been left unable to finish gathering the things that had been scattered across the floor. Of course, after dinner was finished, he’d set right to it, but now that everyone was settled around the fire with warm mugs in hand and fluffy scarves around their necks, Mr. Hero seemed to only be agitated by his puttering about and moving everything again.

To be fair, he hadn’t stopped moving for the last thirty minutes since the others had helped gather his things back up so they could sit, but there was so much to put away!

“Mr. Hero, I still-”

“Sit.” Mr. Hero squeaked grouchily, earning a few giggles as Mr. Rancher and Mr. Chosen Hero exchanged glances, smiles wide. “My feet hurt just from looking at you.”

Like it or not, Ravio’s ears were already pricking up at those words.

Since that first time, Mr. Hero had done him the favor of massaging his feet after a hard day many times, and as much as Ravio didn’t want to expect it of him, it was incredibly nice to have someone fuss over him, if only for a little bit, and if there was even a chance that it would happen again, well...

It was entirely intentional that he flopped onto the couch, feet resting easily in Mr. Hero’s lap as he stretched out. He could have sat down, he really could, but the fact of it was that he simply didn’t want to. Fortunately, Mr. Hero didn’t seem to mind, and too the merchants delight his friend immediately started pulling off his shoes with the same old familiar huff and wrinkling of his button nose, tossing the shoes as far away as possible to avoid having to remain in contact with them for long.

It was a practiced and much appreciated ritual that was Mr. Hero helping him relax after a long day. Just as cocoa or cider was prepared when either was having a particularly long or difficult day, or how Ravio always made sure Mr. Hero ate three meals a day and slept for at least four hours, taking care that his friend wasn’t positioned too uncomfortably wherever it was that he finally passed out. Mr. Hero touching his feet was normal, just like him playing with Mr. Hero’s hair once the other boy had settled down at last.

Perhaps though, it wasn’t all that common for the others.

“Vet?”

Mr. Hero blinked up from his work, violet eyes meeting the midnight blue of Mr. Rancher impassively.

“What in Ordonia are ya doin’?”

The veteran hero cocked a brow. “Foot massage, he won’t relax otherwise, and foot pains a-” Captain Hero Sir Jr. shot a look their way and Mr. Hero quickly amended what he’d been about to say. “Foot pain sucks.”

“You are touching feet.” Mr. Rancher wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t that a bit... gross?”

“Says the man who eats bee larva.” Came the quipped reply. “I wash them first, pities sakes.”

“By my head!?!?!?” Tune started jumping up and away and shooting Mr. Hero a hurt look. “Like, yeah, sure, I help Granny on bad days too, but warn a fellow if you’re gonna be having feet by his head.”

“Don’t sit on my legs.”

Ravio chuckled, letting the noise and chatter wash over him.

Mr. Hero’s hands never failed to sooth the pains of the day.

The heroes had stumbled in time and again over the months, and Ravio had grown quite used to their presence. Time passed differently on both ends of things, but he’d since learned when abouts to expect that they'd appear, and the house was, thankfully, stocked fully for each visit.

Autumn had brought about harvest, and the heroes had darted in and out, occasionally offering help and other times only crashing wearily in the living room and Mr. Hero’s bedroom for the night before they had to return to chasing the monsters. Today was one of the longer stays, especially if how Mr. Captain Hero Sir was moving so stiffly was any indication.

“Do you need me to step on you again?” Mr. Smithy asked worriedly as Mr. Captain Hero Sir eased his way down onto the couch, earning a few looks both from the merchant and the other heroes while Sheerow flitted about the man's head, chirruping worriedly and earning a gentle word or so from the captain.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir was in quite the state, stiff as a board and moving as poorly as the old pump in the village. It made him worried, and try as he might, he couldn’t think of any of his items that would help.

Mr. Hero appeared to already have an answer though. “Tunic off, Cap, and on the couch.”

Sharp blue blinked over in confusion to where Mr. Hero was already shedding his boots and rolling up his sleeves with a purpose. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Massage. Works wonders for back pain. Hop to it or I’m rescinding my offer.”

It was one thing to be on the receiving end of matters, but another entirely to be one of those who watched. Mr. Hero put his full weight into his hands as he worked, kneading out the knots in his friend's muscles while Mr. Captain Hero Sir melted into the couch with little relieved noises.

Maybe it took the others realizing that the vet didn’t just help him, but after that it wasn’t at all uncommon for him to carry in his attempts at cider or his wonderful cocoa and see Mr. Hero standing over one of the others and putting his clever hands to work in soothing tensed muscles back into place, the heroes under his hands melting under his touch.

The first time he heard Mr. Hero humming under his breath while he worked, the other heroes had all looked incredibly surprised, but not upset in the slightest. It was a lovely tune after all, and Tune himself started playing with his baton in time the gentle music, swaying in his seat and waving the instrument while the others continued working on repairing and tending their various items and clothing articles.

There was a pattern. For Mr. Captain Hero Sir it was his back, although rather rarely, and the same went for Mr. Chosen Hero.

For Captain Hero Sir Jr. It was his neck and shoulders.

Mr. Smithy got stress headaches that seemed to ease when someone helped message his temples.

Mr. Rancher had problems with his left wrist specifically.

Ravio of course had poor feet, and while Tune and Wild seemed to be mostly left unscathed from the repetitive pains that the others did, they took every opportunity to cling to Mr. Hero with their whole bodies when they felt that they wanted pets or attention when their mentor’s/brothers were too busy.

He’d attempted to return the favor all of one time. The black eye and bloody nose he got out of it weren’t even made better with the nearly tearful apologies of his best friend as Mr. Hero had jumped to his feet and dashed outside to get some ice for the injury.

Once the blood was cleaned up, the vet had sat in shame as Ravio had joined the others in teasing him for his “killer reflexes”.

“I can’t help it! People touching my feet- It-” Mr. Hero tugged at his hair frustratedly, eyes turning to the sky hopelessly. “I’m sorry, Ravio. It was an accident, I swear.”

“I know, Mr. Hero, I know.” He’d giggled out the reassurance, but from that day on he avoided touching Mr. Hero’s feet in any way possible.

(Oddly enough though, that didn’t stop a few of the others from trying, and Mr. Hero’s sleep was interrupted many times by heroes that had been kicked in the nose or even the mouth because they’d dared each other to touch the teen’s feet while he slept. Mr. Captain Hero Sir had complained for days until his own black eye healed, and Mr. Hero hadn’t even bother apologizing, stating that the others shouldn’t have tempted fat so foolishly.)

He felt a bit guilty for not returning the favor, but he knew better than to try again where so many others had failed.

And then winter had sprung up. Winter with its harsh gales that blew in half frozen heroes that tracked ice and snow across the floor as they bundled in front of the fire, wrapped head to toe for the weather. Winter when he’d brew hot cocoa to warm them all up, letting Mr. Hero tug down blankets to wrap around their on-and-off house-mates (guests no longer applied at this point). The mugs offered were warm, and Ravio smiled as each hero offered him a word of thanks as his tray grew lighter and lighter until he only had the two mugs left.

Mr. Hero had pulled together his usual nest before the fire. His huge blanket and a few spare pillows all bundled together into a comfortable place to sit for the younger heroes in order to make up for the lack of a second couch, and the vet sat in its center, still working to arrange the cushions with stiff fingers and chattering teeth until Ravio had pulled on his friend’s tunic and urged him to sit down.

When he offered the mug though, Mr. Hero had fumbled it and nearly dropped it, a hiss of irritation whishing from between his teeth and he glared down at his stiff digits. “Blast! Din’s sake, why does the freaking cold always freaking-”

Warm hands, worn from housekeeping and smithy work, wrapped around the vet’s as Ravio gently rubbed some warmth back into the stiff fingers. Mr. Hero started slightly at the touch, but didn’t complain as the merchant continued to press his into the rises and against the bones of his friend’s gnarled hands, offering warmth and relief against the pain and the cold both for a few short minutes, and Mr. Hero melted into the touch, as he always inevitably did, letting Ravio have his way for the moment and leaning to sit back-to-back with Wild while the merchant worked.

When he’d released his housemate, it’d only been to press a mug into the vet’s hands, but then he’d been settling across from him on the blanket nest, stockinged feet coming to rest in his friend’s lap as he’d pulled his own mug close for a sip. Violet eyes offered a begrudging smile that was returned in rupee green, but no words were spoken between the two as they enjoyed their cocoa.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir however wasn’t about to let it pass. “So, hand holding now, uh? Should I be talking to Fable about a wedding day?”

Ravio was certain that the only thing keeping some very rude signs from being exchanged as the fact that Mr. Hero wasn’t willing to stress his hands further or release the warmth that he held in them. The pink-haired hero did shoot a very disappointed look towards the captain though.

#do not tag as ravio/i #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu legend #lu ravio #fluffics #ketto's cottagecore collection #idiot writes fluff #idiot writes cottagecore

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master-sass-blast · 3 years

Text

Care and Trust: Chapter One.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Summary: "The shockwave hits second.

You’re strolling through Avatar Korra park, out on your lunch break. It’s a beautiful, late winter day; with the sun shining high up in the sky, it’s warm enough that you aren’t shivering like a frightened kitten as you amble along the plaza.

Several people gasp, and you look up in time to see a fireball pluming up over the docks.

And then the shockwave hits.

It hits your chest like an armadillo tiger; the explosion roars through the air, making your ears hurt. You go down, grunting when you hit the snow-covered knoll behind you.

You stand with a groan, brush yourself off, then start booking it to the nearest hospital.

Shit like this always demands all hands on deck."

AKA Plot Finally Happens.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.

Rating: T.

Word count: 2.1k.

The shockwave hits second.

(But, as they say, all good things must come to an end.)

Several people gasp, and you look up in time to see a fireball pluming up over the docks.

And then the shockwave hits.

It hits your chest like an armadillo tiger; the explosion roars through the air, making your ears hurt. You go down, grunting when you hit the snow-covered knoll behind you.

Cries pierce the air. Screams of panic, exclamations of disbelief, exhortations to call the police.

Yeah, you think as you eye the thick, black smoke that belches into the air, something tells me they didn’t miss that.

You stand with a groan, brush yourself off, then start booking it to the nearest hospital.

Shit like this always demands all hands on deck.

***

As predicted, the injury count is high.

You run the halls of Yue General, triaging the more serious patients until things slow enough that you can start checking the ones not actively dying. It’s a non-stop frenzy of gauze, saline, and bandage wraps until you can see the blue glow of your healing whenever you close your eyes.

By the end of it, your feet are practically dead and it’s nearly four in the morning.

You drag yourself onto one of the trams and let the teeth-shaking rattle keep you awake until you’re on your block. You count your steps until you make it to the front door, then let out a sigh of relief when you step into the building lobby.

“Elevator Out of Service. Please Use Stairs.”

You stare at the placard in front of the elevator bay in disbelief, then groan. Fuck my life.

***

The climb up to your floor is agony.

You’re huffing and puffing by the time you make it to your apartment door. You lean against it as you slot the key into the lock, then push inside.

Some distant, responsible part of you manages to turn the deadbolt before your brain shuts off entirely. You kick off your shoes, drop your purse on the ground, then shuffle over to the couch and flop down face first on it.

When you lift your head again, sunlight’s streaming through your living room window.

“Fuck.” You wince, then peel yourself gingerly off the couch. You cringe as your body protests, and rub your hand over the back of your aching neck. You glance at the clock, but the gurgle your stomach makes is more than enough to tell you that it’s past lunch time.

You sit up, then frown when you get a whiff of yourself. Antiseptic and B.O. Not a good combination on anyone.

You need a shower. And food. And a good round of stretching.

Nice, long, hot shower. You smile as you shuffle towards the bathroom. And then take out. Narook’s. With extra squid ink noodles. Your stomach rumbles again. And maybe Golden King’s… mmm, extra summer rolls… with sweet and sour dipping sauce. Yum.

***

You feel more human after showering. You change into sweats and a loose shirt, put in delivery orders at Narook’s and Golden King’s, then flip on your radio before dropping down onto your sofa.

It’s too early in the day for mystery shows, but the disc jockey’s still playing music requests. Smooth jazz --something with a rolling beat and brass--pipes out of the speakers, swirling around your apartment until the mental grime of the previous day starts to fade.

You sink back into your couch and hum along. You sigh and stretch, relish in the ache in your legs as tension leeches from your sore muscles.

The radio hums, then crackles. “We interrupt this broadcast for an announcement from the Republic City Police Department.”

You roll your eyes as an announcer rattles off a report about the explosion yesterday --site is secure, no risk of further fire or explosion, the city police are hard work, stay clear of the site, blah blah blah--then relax when your music starts playing again. Thanks for telling us what we already know. You close your eyes and let yourself drift. Why do they always shove that into every single press release? ‘We’re working hard to serve Republic City and ensure the safety of her citizens--’

Lin.

You gasp and bolt upright; she would’ve attended the scene. Hell, for all you know, she was one of the responding officers.

It’s probable, given her propensity for “hands on police work,” for not staying above the grime and grunge her officers have to work on.

Hell, it’s even likely. Given what you know about Lin, you’d be solid money that she’d rather work the explosion site than deal with the panicking politicians.

Is she okay? You chew on your lower lip as the thought circles your mind like water in the bathtub drain, swirling down and down into blackness.

You blink, and then your phone’s in your hand, and there’s hold music in your ear as the operator makes the connection. You gulp and palm your phone once the music stops and the ringing starts. Please don’t let this be a mistake, please don’t let this be a mistake, please don’t let this be a fucking mistake…

“Chief Beifong’s office. This is her assistant, Ryu, speaking. The Chief is not available at this time, but I can take your message and deliver it to her later.”

You blink at the sound of her assistant’s voice. “Uh… hi…” You swallow, then rattle off your name and callback number before Ryu can hang up on you. “I’m a, uh, friend of Lin’s. I was just calling because --y’know--the explosion--”

“I’m sorry, but the Chief cannot comment on an ongoing investigation--”

“I’m not calling about that,” you interject, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m her friend; I just want to be sure she’s okay.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and when Ryu speaks again, she almost sounds… pleased? “Chief Beifong’s not in right now --but I’ll have her call you back as soon as she’s available.”

“Is she hurt?” you blurt before she hangs up on you.

Another pause. “As far as I know, no.”

“Okay.” You nod, gulp, then nod again. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.”

You eke out something similar, then put your phone back on the hook when the line goes dead. Your heart thuds uncomfortably hard in your chest, and you have to blink a few times before your brain starts working again.

You head back to your couch and jazz --but long gone is your relaxed, exhaustion induced stupor. Anxiety claws at your chest, threatening to snap your ribs and leave you bleeding. You inhale deeply through your nose, then force yourself to let it out slowly so your body calms down. She’ll be fine. She’s got, what, thirty years on the force? This is old hat for her. She’ll keep herself safe.

Still, if you spend the next couple hours watching your phone, that’s no one’s business but yours.

***

Your phone rings around seven in the evening --right as you’re shovelling leftovers from lunch into your mouth.

Go figure.

You half-scramble, half-try-to-not-choke over to the phone; you pick up the phone, try to swallow, then tuck the food in your cheek like a hamster when it’s apparent you’ve got too much in your mouth to swallow. Mom always said I ate like a pack of polar bear dogs. “Heffo?”

There’s a dry huff of laughter on the other end of the line. “I take it I caught you at a good time.”

“Lin!” You cover your mouth with one hand (even though she can’t see you) and alternate between chewing and swallowing. “I --I was ea’in ‘inner.”

“Sounds like you decided to do it all at once.” She chuckles when you grumble, then moves on. “My secretary said you called?”

“Yeah, around lunch time,” you say as you finally get your mouth clear.

“Where I’m presuming you had your mouth full of that meal, too.”

“Fuck you.” You grin when she laughs, then lean against the wall and cradle the receiver against your shoulder. “I just… wanted to check on you. With the explosion and all.”

“You heard about that.”

“The whole city heard it, Lin.” You sigh. “I worked the triage team at Yue General until four in the morning.”

“Shit.” Lin groans, and you can hear the creak of her leather office chair as she sits. “I thought you only did massage therapy?”

“They call everyone who passed a healing course when stuff like this happens,” you explain. “Besides, I had to pass an intensive injury treatment course to get my rehabilitation certification. I’m licensed to assist surgery teams, if need arises.”

Lin hums. “That’s a nice feather in your cap.”

“It pays the bills.” You manage a smile when she lets out a huff of laughter, but the anxiety that’s been circling your brain descends to your stomach. You swallow, then ask, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” When you don’t respond right away, her voice softens. “I’m fine. A little banged up, but nothing that won’t heal. I wasn’t there when the explosion went off.”

“Okay,” you murmur. You let out a shaky breath, then mentally kick yourself to stop acting like a worried girlfriend, dammit. “Well, if something doesn’t heal, you know where to find me.”

Lin grunts, then chuckles when you laugh. “Get some rest, kid.”

“Already am. You should do the same.” You roll your eyes when she starts grumbling again --about overtime and press conferences and departmental cooperation with the city’s fire brigade--then say, “Call me when you want to keep me up all night again,” and hang up before she can react.

It’s easy to picture her reaction. Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, with that hint of a grin that she hides by smirking.

You bite your lower lip; something warm and smooth settles in your lower gut. You laugh quietly to yourself, then turn and head back for the sofa. Alright, leftovers. It’s just you and me.

***

You’re in the midst of changing the sheets on your massage table when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The latch clicks, the door swings open, and the receptionist for the Northern Moon Physical Therapy Facility pokes her head into your “office” (which is really just the room you work out of, but it’s yours, and that’s what counts). “A call came in for you.”

You straighten, frowning. “Me?”

She nods. “A request for on-site treatment.” She looks down at the slip of paper in her hand and recites the information from the call. “Republic City Police Department, at one this afternoon. Long session booking. A woman named Ryu called it in.”

Your heart sinks into your shoes. Fucking dammit. “And my other appointments…”

“We’re redistributing them to the other therapists. It was an urgent request.”

Shit.

You sigh, then nod and grab your carry bag off a nearby office chair. “Let me pack up, and I’ll catch one of the trams.”

“They’re sending a car for you.” The receptionist smiles politely, then steps back and starts making her way back down the hall. “It’ll be here in fifteen minutes!”

You run your tongue over your teeth and do what you can to tamp down the aggravation simmering in your stomach. Well, on the bright side, I don’t have to carry the table the entire way.

***

Ryu meets you in the parking garage attached to the police department. She’s sleek, dressed in an impeccably pressed navy blue suit, and there’s not a hair out of place on her head.

In your loose slacks, pale periwinkle blouse, and slapdash braid, you can’t help but feel a bit… frumpy.

She shakes your hand --she’s got a strong, professional handshake--then escorts you through the garage. “Thank you for coming.” She opens a heavy metal door stamped with the police department’s emblem for you. “I’ll take you up to Chief Beifong’s office.”

Your jaw flexes as you follow her down a hall with an immaculately polished slate tile floor. “How’s she been? What kind of pain has she been in?”

Ryu looks at you over her shoulder for a long moment. Her eyes narrow contemplatively, but she turns back around before you can make anything of her expression. “I’ve been asked to let Chief Beifong explain things to you directly.”

Yeah, that tracks. You shift the strap of your carry bag onto your shoulder, then watch the floor counter as the elevator slowly rattles upwards.

#sass writes #lin beifong x reader #this one got cut into multiple pieces due to length #also we have plot now!#five fics into the series dslfjdlfkjdslfkjdslfj #legend of korra #the hands that heal

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serendipityrogers · 3 years

Text

a monday in new york city || b. barnes

one & two

summary: another date with bucky, but this time its in new york city with some familar faces.

pairing: bucky barnes x female!librarian!reader

warnings: some ANNOYING as cliches that i just love, swearing

an: okay so i know its been a week, but hey i’ve been busy! this series is going to have one more part! and it’s going to be spicy, but that is gonna take awhile because it takes a lot for me to write spicy stuff. also, this series doesn’t take place in a specific part of the mcu timeline, i just pick the characters i want and throw them together. the next part of my steve series should be out soon, like within the next couple days! enjoy!!! <3

“You should meet me in New York City tomorrow.”

You and Bucky were talking on the phone, no Facetime or Skype, because this man still had a flip phone. After knowing about his history, this did not surprise you. Funnily enough, you didn’t actually know he had a phone until about two weeks ago. You proceeded to laugh at him for about thirty minutes when he pulled out the phone. It had been almost three months since he walked into your library for the first time. And the two of you had spent nearly everyday together, of course, except for those days he was gone on ‘obligations.’

“Like a date?” You asked, rolling onto your stomach, and moving the phone from between your ear and shoulder and onto your pillow. You heard him chuckle, and your cheeks warmed up. “We could call it that.” It was a Sunday night, and tomorrow was a holiday so the library would be closed, and for once, you had a day off. And you were over the moon about spending it with Bucky.

“What do you have in mind?” You said, propping your head up on the palms of your hands. “Well, before I ask you, promise me you won’t freak out.” This peaked your interest. “Well what is it?” You pushed, “Promise me, first.” He was being stubborn. “Fine.” You sighed. “Well, the Starks are throwing a party tomorrow night…” He started, The Starks..? Like Tony and Pepper Stark? “...for our little group and some S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and he said I had a plus one, so of course, I want to take you.”

You were speechless, and you could feel the nerves creeping up from your stomach, all the way up to your throat. “Hello?” He asked, making sure you were still there. “Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. Just processing.” You muttered, now completely sat up in your bed. There were a few more moments of silence, then you spoke. “So you want me to go to a party thrown by Tony and Pepper Stark, and not only that, but a Stark party that will be mostly all your superhero friends?” You asked more rhetorically than anything else. “Yes.” He said confidently, which for a moment made your nerves waiver, but only for a couple seconds.

“If it’s any consolation, I really want you to come, and everyone really wants to meet you.” Everyone? Who is ‘everyone’..? Like the Avengers? They knew about you? Holy shit. You couldn’t think about that right now though. You broke it down in your head, trying to simplify it. Bucky really wanted you to go, and you really didn’t have a reason to say no, other than being very anxious about the whole thing. “You know what, sure.” You were finally able to get out the words. “Wait, really?” He asked excitedly. That made you feel good, that he was so excited for you to meet his friends.

He gave you all the details, adding to the nerves creeping up your throat. “I’m gonna get some sleep.” Bucky muttered at around 11, which was late for him. “I probably should too.” You said with a yawn. “Goodnight, Doll.” He said in a raspy tone, followed by him yawning as well. “Goodnight, Buck.” You said sleepily, about to hang up the phone, but then he spoke again. “And doll, I promise you won’t regret saying yes.” And with that, the phone line went dead.

It was a restless night, you tossed and turned for a couple hours, thinking about all the ways you could fuck up on this date. The last time you checked the clock it was just after one in the morning. When you did finally wake up, the sun was beaming straight into your bedroom. Warming up the room around you, you felt a thin layer of sweat covering your body, but that honestly could have been from the nerves. The first thing you did was grab your phone, and check if you had any text from Bucky, and you did.

It was a simple ‘good morning, doll,’ the same text he’s sent you every morning since you guys traded phone numbers. You sent him a similar text back, and rubbed the remaining sleep from your eyes. After contemplating staying in bed for awhile longer, you decided against it and figured you could start the day, as it was already almost ten in the morning.

After a warm shower, which consisted mostly of shaving and washing your hair, you decided to make a quick breakfast. While you ate, you contemplated on what to wear. Bucky said it was more on the fancier side. You had a couple ‘fancier’ options, but not a closet full. Breakfast was done and dishes were clean, so now it was time to try on all your options. By the end of you trying on almost everything in your closet, you decided to keep it simple but elegant. It was a black satin slip dress that fell right above your knee, and the shoes were a pop of color and definitely brought the outfit together.

As you pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, you felt those same nerves creeping up the back of your throat. The lot was full of cars, but you were able to get a spot closer to the front. This party looked like a lot more than a ‘little group and some S.H.I.E.L.D agents.’ After sending Bucky an ‘I’m here’ text, you gathered your phone and some little extras into your clutch. While you did some last minute touches and repositioning of your hair in your rear-view mirror, there was a small knock on your driver-side window, making your entire body jump, head snapping towards the noise.

Your eyes landed on Bucky, who was practically doubled over on laughter. After getting in a good laugh, he pulled open your door, giving you a hand to step out more smoothly, which you swatted away and rolled your eyes at him. Once he got a good look at you, his face shifted. The dress you wore accentuate parts of your body that your everyday clothes certainly did

not. And you were not the only one who noticed. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on your as you walked in front of him to navigate through some of the cars.

Once there was enough room for both of you to walk side-by-side, you felt his metal hand slide along your lower back, coming to rest on your furthest hip. His fingers rested on your hip bone, with each step you took, his hand followed the curve, giving it a small squeeze. “You look amazing, doll.” He whispered into your ear, making a layer of goosebumps cover your arms. “So do you, Buck.”

You were glad you wore black, because of course, so did Bucky. He wore a black undershirt, with a black blazer with leather lapels, and of course black dress pants. The two of you looked like a pair, which you liked. The two of you approached the front door of the hotel, pulling his arm away from your body, making you feel empty. He whisked the door open for you, letting you walk in before him.

The lobby was pretty empty, just a receptionist and a couple security guards standing around. You could hear talking and laughter from behind a couple pairs of closed doors. You followed Bucky towards one of the security guards, who was standing in front of one of the sets of doors. “She’s with me.” He explained, as the two of you approached him. Those words made you giddy, and you smiled at the man. “Alright, Sergeant Barnes.” The guard said, pushing the door open for both of you.

“Oh, Sergeant Barnes, huh?” You joked, wrapping one of your arms around his metal bicep. He tensed up a bit, but then laughed, “I like the way you say that.” Then added a wink. You looked away from Bucky, and towards the crowded, very crowded, room. Bucky definitely underestimated the amount of people would be here, but it was a Stark party after all, so you weren’t surprised. Bucky and you walked towards the bar, taking a seat, which you were thankful for, your feet already killing you.

The two of you spoke for awhile, sipping on your drinks. You weren’t sure why Bucky drank, since he physically could not get drunk. But if the drinks were free, you would be drinking too. “Hey Buck, there you are.” A man approached you two, placing a hand on Bucky’s back. Both of you turned your head, eyes landing on a familiar face. “You must be (Y/M/N).” He smiled, sticking a hand out for you to shake, so you did so. “Hello, Steve.” You matched his smile.

After the three of you bantered back and forth for a few moments, Steve spoke again, “Well if you two want to join us, most of us are sitting on the other side of the bar.” He explained pointing to the side of the room. Following the direction of his fingers, you saw a group of some more familiar faces. You knew most of their faces from news articles, but knew their names from Buck’s stories. It was Natasha, Bruce, and Wanda. “Wanna go?” You heard Bucky ask you, placing a hand on your knee. “Of course!” You said, perking up. Going over there was the last thing you wanted to do, because you already knew this was going to be awkward.

Steve led as Bucky followed him through the crowd, pulling you by your hand. Maneuvering through the people, ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ passing your lips every so often. “I’m back…” Steve said, “...and I brought friends.” His use of the endearing term ‘friend,’ made you lighten up a bit. After some, not so awkward, introductions, they all started talking, and you happily listened. Your stories could never match up to any of theirs, so you didn’t even try. “Do you want another drink?” Bucky asked, noticing your empty glass. “Yeah, sure.” You smiled, he grabbed the glass out of your hands. He left your side, walking to meet the bartender who stood closer to the middle of the bar.

“So (Y/M/N), has Bucky read every book in your library yet?” Natasha asked, but by the way she emphasized the ‘your’ in her sentence, you couldn’t tell if she was implying an innuendo, but you decided to keep it literal. “Ya’know, he actually tends to stick around the romance section, his favorites are the damsel in distress ones.” You joked, placing the back of your hand on your forehead, closing your eyes like you were fainting. This got a laugh out of the group, making a small bit of confidence grow inside you. “What’re you guys laughing at?” Bucky asked, placing the fresh drink in your hand. “Nothing.” You said, pretending to lock your lips, making the group laugh again.

After a few more drinks, you had stopped feeling so tense and started loosening up. You started talking with Natasha and Wanda, while Buck, still nearby, spoke with Steve and Bruce. The three of you were sharing some of your dating horror stories. That was until the DJ started playing some more upbeat music, Natasha immediately stopped and looked between you and Wanda.

“Do you guys wanna dance?” He asked hopefully, wrapping one of her hands around yours, and Wanda’s, wrist. “Sure!” You exclaimed, which made Wanda agree. The three of you left the bar, making your way to the large dance floor in the middle of the room. There were a good amount of people on the floor, and everyone was in their own worlds. It took you a while to get into it, but when the DJ played a song you knew all the words to, it was over.

The three of you danced in a circle together. You danced similarly to the day Bucky caught you dancing at the library. Eyes shifting from open to closed, hands running up and down your body, hips moving side to side, fingers running through your hair. You felt eyes on you, and you looked towards Bucky. He had a green beer bottle pressed to his lips, not sipping just sitting there, like he was frozen. His eyes followed every curve of your body as it moved. Knowing that he was watching you made you want to move even more, Natasha and Wanda matching your energy level.

After saying all your goodbyes to everyone, and Natasha drunkenly inviting you to one of her and Wanda’s girls night, Bucky walked you to your car. “You really shouldn’t drive.” He insisted, grabbing the keys you had hanging around your finger. You definitely weren’t drunk, but more like buzzed. “I’m fine.” You insisted, leaning against the side of your car, trying to get any weight off your feet.

“Stay the night with me.” He inisited, both hands resting on your hips, and his forehead resting on yours. You debated back and forth in your head, well the best you could in your buzzed state. “Fine.” You said, trying to sound reluctant, but you were the opposite, but he couldn’t know that. “But, I need to leave by 7:30 tomorrow morning!”

The drive was short, no longer than five minutes. “Now don’t make fun of me, as you know, I don’t spend very much time here.” Bucky explained, hand resting on the doorknob of his front door. “Oh shut up, I’m sure it’s fine.” You laughed, placing your hand on his and turning the doorknob. He stepped in first, flipping on the light switch. Your eyes scanned over the viewable part of the apartment,”I was right, you just need to do some major decorating.”

Bucky walked off as you practically ripped your shoes off your feet, sighing in relief. Leaving the foyer and stepping into the living room, you searched for Bucky and he was standing in the kitchen. So you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hi.” You mumbled, eyes fluttering closed and cheek pressed against his back. “Hey, doll.” He muttered back.

You felt Bucky raise both his arms, and you heard some shifting, so you assumed he was searching for something in his cabinet. You heard what sounded like a pill bottle, and he shook some of them out into his hand. “Here take these.” He grabbed one of your hands, placing two small, circular pills in your hand. It was some form of Advil, you could tell by the familiar red color.

Pulling away from him, you placed the pills into your mouth and he handed you a glass of water. “Thanks.” You said, taking a gulp of the water. “But I’m not gonna be hungover.” You insisted, placing the glass into his sink. You could tell he didn’t believe you, but he just smiled. “Let’s go get you some comfier clothes.”

“These are not gonna fit.” You called from the other side of the bathroom door. Bucky had given you a shirt and some red flannel pajama pants. The shirt was fine, you wore big shirts quite frequently, but no matter how tight you pulled the drawstring, the pants fell down to your thighs. You peaked your head out from behind the door, and Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed. “The shirt is pretty long on me, is it weird if I just don’t wear pants?” You asked him. He shrugged, “I don’t think so, as long as you’re comfortable.” He smiled. You opened the door all the way, and handed him the red pants, and he tossed them on the opposite side of the bed.

“Well, It’s almost one in the morning, you should get some sleep.” He stood up from the bed and walked towards his closet,“You can have my bed, and I’ll sleep out here.” He pulled out a pillow and a sheet from his closet. “What, don’t wanna sleep with me, Buck? I see how it is.” You giggled, acting like you were upset, and rolling your eyes.

“No-no, I-Buck, I’m kidding.” You cut him off, laughing at his sudden awkwardness. “I didn’t want to assume.” He finally muttered out. “I guess I don’t mind sharing a bed with you.” Continuing your joke, and slipping under the comforter. Engulfed by the smell of Bucky, which added another level of comfort. He pulled open the dresser once again, grabbing a shirt and some pajama pants, leaving you to go change in the bathroom.

You scrolled on your phone, setting multiple alarms to make sure you woke up on time tomorrow morning, then placing it on the bedside table. Letting your eyes fall closed, you turned so that your back was towards the bathroom door. Without opening your eyes, you heard the bathroom door open, and then the lights flickered off.

There was some quiet shuffling and you felt the bed dip beside you. Your eyes reluctantly opened, and you were greeted by the sight of Bucky’s back. Without thinking, you placed your hand on the arm that wasn’t tucked under his body, pulling at it softly. He rolled inward, now facing you. There was a sleepy smile on his face, and he blinked slowly, desperately trying to keep his eyes open. You placed a hand on his face, thumb softly running over the stubble on his cheek. His eyes finally shut, face full of content, the corners of his lips still upturned. Wiggling closer to him, “If we cuddled a little bit, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You said, letting some excess air out of your nose, as a laugh. “I know we aren’t dating, but…” Your voice trailing off.

“Yeah, about that…”

#mcu #mcu one shot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #james buchanan barnes #winter solider x you #winter solider fanfiction #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #winter solider #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan one shot

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melwilson · 3 years

Text

from the sky | t.o.

pairing: thor odinson x reader

rating: fluff, angst kinda but only if you squint

warnings: a slight mention of anxiety. thor and reader being cute and domestic. i edited this at midnight so...i mean take it or leave it

“Zeus! Time to eat, buddy!” Your voice rang loud as you stepped out the door of your home. You whistled, eyes looking for the three year old German shepherd. “Zeus!” You raised your hand above your face as you stepped out from under the awning. The sun was just beginning to set, replacing the painted blue sky with beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow. Sunsets like these weren’t uncommon in the Arizona desert and normally, Zeus would be back in the house before the sun would make its descent. You called for him one more time, but then you caught sight of his fluffy tail a little more than half a mile out. You quirked an eyebrow as you started towards him. As if he could feel your presence, the dog ran over to you nudging your knee before returning back over to where he was before.

“Oh my gosh,” you muttered to yourself. Zeus looked up at you and then back to the large man who laid face up on the ground. He was covered in dirt, grime, and blood. You dropped down to your knees hands hovering over his body. His chest rose and fell slowly as you racked your brain for something do.

You can’t just leave him here.

Like hell I can’t. This man looks like he just went to hell and back.

“God help me. Screw it.” You stood up taking the mans limp arms and attempted to tug him off the ground. He was hot. Too hot. And you started to wonder how long he had been unconscious in the Arizona heat. You wondered how he was still alive. The Arizona desert wasn’t kind to anyone. You had been living here for almost five years and there were days when the heat forced you to stay inside all day.

Letting out a grunt, you began to drag the man back to your house. Zeus ran ahead of you not even bothering to try and help you. By the time you had reached the house, you were a hot, panting mess of sweat and dirt. As carefully as you could, you dropped the man onto your couch, his hand knocking over the lamp that sat on the end table. You jumped at the sound, cringing at the broken glass you would have to clean up. Right now, the bruised man in front of you had your attention. Had he not looked like he had fought a war by himself, you would have definitely admired how attractive the blonde really was. But now was not the time. You grabbed your first aid kit from the kitchen before returning to the living room.

“What in the world is this man wearing?” You said to yourself. It wasn’t until now that you noticed the black and silver armor that covered the blonde’s broad torso and shoulders. Remnants of a red cape were attached to the back. You weren’t sure how long it took you to the get the armor off, but when you did you were sweating again. There was a large gash that ran the length of his torso. He was no longer bleeding, but the skin around it was red, puffy, and bruised dark shades of purple. In fact, multiple bruises littered a deep contrast against his tan skin. Your fingers grazed the area around the tattered skin gently before grabbing the alcohol. You cleansed the skin thoroughly before grabbing the tweezers and pulling out a few small rocks that were lodged in the torn skin. You cleansed the wound again before picking up the arnica. It’s a homeopathic herb that helps with pain and bruising. You took the gel and rubbed it on the discolored skin on his chest and around the wound. God, he was toned. Actually he was more than tone. His body looked like it had been carved from the gods themselves.

“Get it together, Y/n. There’s a random man in your living room.” After wiping the dirt from his face, you wiped the dust from your hands and grabbed a blanket to cover him with. Zeus nudged your knee, his brown eyes looking between you and the unknown human on your couch. You scratched behind his ear, tugging lightly on his collar. “Let’s go, boy.”

The next morning, you were stirred awake by the sunlight pouring in through your windows. The moment of peace didn’t last long before Zeus’s barking filled the small home. You jumped out of bed and ran to the living room being met with a very defensive Zeus and an equally as defensive blonde. He was sitting up straight, one arm around his waist. Once he saw you, he stood up swiftly, stumbling slightly and wincing as he ran clumsily into the wall. His eyes raked over your frame bouncing between you and the dog that had moved next to your feet.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was a deep rumble that sent a wave of heat through your body. His stare was harsh as he awaited your answer.

“The woman who found in the middle of the desert,” you shot back. The blonde watched as you crossed your arms over your chest jutting out your hip. “Who the hell are you?” You struggled to hold his stare, his broad chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered. He tore through the bandages that had taken nearly thirty minutes to wrap. “Where’s my armor?” His question came out more as a command as he took a step toward you.

You stuck out a hand, coming in contact with his chest. “Slow down, big guy. You’re not going anywhere. That giant gash is gonna get infected the moment you step outside. Take a seat.” You nodded to the couch holding his blue eyes.

He took a step back eyes glancing down on the large cut that ran the length of his stomach. Deciding that you were probably right, he sat down on the brown leather watching as you took out the white bandage from the medkit. He watched intently as you began to re-wrap his torso visibly shivering from the graze of your finger tips. “Thank you.” His voice was as soft as his eyes. You could tell he was genuine as you gently placed two pats to his side signaling you were done.

“You’re welcome.” You stood up placing the medkit back in the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re not dead on my couch.”

The no-named blonde raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to be dead?”

You scoffed. “I thought you were dead when Zeus found you. You’d been laying in this heat for only God knows how long and had a wound that large. You shouldn’t be alive.” You paused. “How’d you end up in Arizona anyway and why were you dressed the way that you were? Comic-Con is usually in Cali.”

He tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. “Comic Con? I do not know of such thing. And I do not know how I ended up back on Earth.”

“What do you mean, ‘back on Earth?’ Y-you’re from outer space?”

A small smile tugged at the mans lips at your confused state. “I’m from Asgard of the nine realms.” Realization and shock covered your face. No wonder he was so...perfect. You suddenly became aware of the over-sized tee shirt and shorts you were wearing and the fact that you probably looked rough.

You swallowed. “Oh. I’m from America of the Earth.”

The blonde laughed. The sound booming and loud. “It’s a pleasure to meet you...”

“Y/n,” you finished quickly. “And lemme guess. You’re the god of thunder?”

“Thor,” he confirmed, “You know who I am?”

You rolled your eyes. “The whole world knows who you are, god of thunder.” You dropped his gaze, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I’m going to get dressed. I can find some new clothes and you can use the shower and clean up if you want.”

The giant man stood up following you to your room. You suddenly became all too aware of his presence in your room. In your space. You hadn’t been this close to a man in years. Entering your closet, you spotted some of your dad’s old tee shirts that you had “borrowed” when you moved. There was also a pair of joggers that would have to work until you went and got him more clothes.

“Here,” you said softly. “These will have to do for now. The other shower is in the guest bedroom. Down the hall on your left.”

He sent you a small smile, his frame towering over you. “Thank you, Y/n. Your kindness has not gone unnoticed. I am in your debt.”

You shook your head pushing him out of your room. “You don’t owe me anything, god of thunder. Just go shower.”

Thor was never unaware of his surroundings and never taken by surprise. But he was, however, confused on how he woke up in a mortal’s home in the middle of nowhere. He was taken aback by your kindness and willingness to let a stranger stay in your home. The moment he laid on eyes on you, he was captured by your beauty and the strength in your eyes.

He let his guard down.

You made him comfortable and he had only known you for all of twenty minutes.

He exited the bathroom, the smell of what he knew as bacon and eggs giving him a sense of home. He had missed Midgard. His plans to return were delayed by an unexpected rift between the nine realms. He didn’t remember anything or anyone who would have had the power to send him back, but he’s glad that they did. Because now he stands at the entrance to your kitchen, watching as you hum softly to a song he knew as Bennie and The Jets. Stark’s doing, of course.

“You just gonna stand there?” You turned around quickly, a smirk playing on your lips.

“I didn’t know that you were aware of my presence?”

You opened the door to the refrigerator to grab the orange juice. “You aren’t exactly quiet, god of thunder. You should eat while the food is hot. After you’re done we can go get you some clothes that fit.”

“There will be no need for the purchasing of more clothes. I will be returning promptly to Asgard.”

You placed a hand on your hip. “You need to heal fully before you leave to do whatever fighting you so promptly have to finish. I’m guessing it won’t be too long. You can stay here until you are well enough to fight again.”

“I no longer want to cause you any more trouble or risk your safety.”

“Thor.” You caught his attention at the mention of his name. “I don’t think my safety is at risk here. And you’re not causing me any trouble. In fact, this is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all year. So just...stay.”

Over the next few days, you grew quite fond of the god of thunder. He slept on the couch, even though you said multiple times he could make himself comfortable in the guest bedroom. He helped around the house- cleaning up his own messes, taking Zeus out, he even offered to cook breakfast and dinner. You took him to the nearest clothing store, bought him a few plain colored tees and sweat shorts to keep him cool in the heat. You continued to change his bandages everyday though he insisted he could do it himself. Neither of you really wanted to take up on his offer. He enjoyed the feeling of your fingers grazing against his skin. However, the gash was healing faster than anticipated. The day before, you watched in awe as he summoned Mjolnir from wherever it had landed in the desert. You both knew it wouldn’t be long before he was back off to Asgard. That’s why you were soaking up all the time you had with the unexpected visitor. Thor brought an atmosphere of warmth and domesticity to your home that you’d never felt before. You enjoyed having the company of another person in your usually dull home.

Tonight, the two of you enjoyed Chinese takeout on the back porch. A couple of beers sat on next to you as you sat in silence.

“Lemme braid your hair.”

Thor glanced over at you. “What?”

“I would like to braid your hair,” you said again. “Please. It’ll look good, I promise.”

Thor’s blue eyes narrowed at you. “I’ve let no mortal touch my hair.”

You crossed your arms over your chest holding his stare. “Well, I am not any mortal. I happen to be the mortal who saved your life.”

“I would have survived regardless,” Thor shrugged, “but I understand your point.” He stood from his seat and settled himself on the ground between your legs, Zeus settling down next to him. “Be gentle.”

You chuckled taking his hair out his usual hair tie. You raked your hands gently through his hair before separating the hair into two sections. He hummed softly as you began to start a french braid. As you tied off the first side with a rubber band he spoke.

“How come you live out here alone?”

You sighed dropping your hands and Thor grunted in protest. “I don’t know. I’ve always been kinda on my own. After high school I decided that there was nothing left for me in my small hometown. I got a job offer here and went for it.”

“There’s never been anyone?”

You laughed softly. “No. Just me and Zeus until you stumbled along. My parents visit every now and then, but other than that I’m on own. S’not so bad. Arizona is beautiful. Good people, beautiful sunsets, and it’s warm year around. Perfect for me someone like me.”

“Like you?”

“You ask a lot of questions, god of thunder.” You finished the last braid tying it off securely. You placed both hands on Thor’s shoulders squeezing lightly. “All done.” He didn’t move. He stayed put between your legs squeezing your calves. “What’s wrong?”

Thor sucked in sharp breath. “I have to leave soon. Asgard, they need me.” He turned around placing his hands on your thighs. “Thank you for everything, Y/n. I’m still in your debt.”

It was a faint rustling in the living room that woke you up. Your eyes narrowed at the clock next to your bed. 5:37 a.m.

“You’re leaving? Without saying goodbye?” Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth as you leaned against the living room wall. Thor had wanted to slip out quickly and quietly, but of course, you were a light sleeper. Even from across the room, he could see the tears threatening to fall.

“Don’t cry, dove.” His armor, washed and mended, thanks to you, engulfed his torso. His hands rested gently against your neck, thumbs rubbing tenderly at the smooth skin of your jaw.

“I don’t want you to go.” Your voice was shaky as you met Thor’s eyes. Your words didn’t do justice the way your heart was beginning to break and the anxiety that bubbling up inside of you. You did not want to be alone again. Not after knowing what it was like to be with someone who appreciated you. Someone who showed you that having the right person around wasn’t so bad.

The blonde placed the sweetest, most gentle kiss to your forehead. The gesture only made your tears fall faster. “I’ll be home soon, love.” Home. Home with you. The woman he had unknowingly fallen in love within the two weeks he had known you. “I promise.”

As far as promises go, you weren’t sure if Thor’s would ever be fulfilled. It had been nearly a month since he left you standing on your back porch in the middle of the night. You cried most of the night, Zeus cuddled into your side. Never once did you think you would be this distraught over a man. He was on your mind every second of every damn day and you hated it. You hated how you could hear his booming laugh and could see that infectious smile was plastered in the back of your mind. You missed the late night talks you would entertain almost every night, only the stars around you. He was easy to talk to. He would listen, never pushed you to share anything, and then he would share about his adventures across the galaxy- fighting space monsters, waging wars, getting stabbed by a snake that was actually his brother.

Even Zeus was starting to miss the presence of the Asgardian. He would sit outside, eyes towards the sky, much like tonight. It was late. You should have been in bed, but you hadn’t been getting much sleep these days. The German shepherd sat your feet, the fire a few feet away casting shadows that danced across your face. You sighed taking a sip of the beer in your hand. The sky had never been this clear before and you had never felt so lonely. The stars lit up the sky in a beautiful array of constellations and formations bringing the remnants of a child-like wonder- a longing to understand what was beyond that dark abyss. And beyond that dark abyss was the home of a man you saw a future with. A man who changed your perspective on being alone. A man who had yet to return.

With a sad quirk of your lips, you stood up, eyes roaming the expanse above you once again and you said, “Come back to me, god of thunder.”

You tossed and turned for hours. At first you were too hot, then you realized you really needed a new mattress, then you realized it was no use in just laying there. But before you could swing your legs over the side of the bed, you were blinded by the brightest light. Rays of pink, blue, gold, orange, green, and purple shone magnificently through your bedroom window. You were out of the bed in an instant, feet carrying you to the back door before you could make any rational decisions. Zeus was outside in an instant, running wildly toward the shadow of a man. You, however, were rooted in place eyes narrowed as a sense of familiarity overcame you. The blonde stopped a few feet away from you, eyes locked with yours.

“I know that it’s been longer than expe-“

“I don’t care,” you said softly. You weren’t sure when the space between the two of you disappeared, but Thor’s hands tightly gripped your waist pulling you impossibly close. “You kept your promise.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you off guard, your eyes widening. “I- is that like an Asgardian thing you guys do or-“ Before you could finish your sentence, Thor’s lips were pressed to yours, quickly and effectively shutting you up. He could have kissed you forever. It was slow and gentle and bottled with emotion. Silent whispers of love and dancing fingers. You pulled away first, lips swollen and eyes dazed.

“You didn’t miss me too much, right?” The blonde kissed you again quickly, stealing your breath away.

You hummed, standing on your toes to kiss him again. “No, not at all.”

“You are a terrible liar, dove. And if it’s worth anything, I missed you.”

“Trust me, god of thunder. I missed you so much more.”

#thor odinson #thor odison x reader #thor odison imagine #chris hemsworth #thor #thor the dark world #thor ragnarok #loki #loki x reader #valkyrie mcu #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avenger imagines #the avengers

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hot-wiings · 3 years

Text

The One Where Denki And Mina Think Katsuki Needs To Be A Softer, Nicer Boyfriend, And An Insecure Katsuki Agrees, But [Y/N] [L/N] Doesn't Want A Nicer Boyfriend, She Wants Him.

Requested By: @spicyhokage

Edited: 1-6-2021

It was late when Katsuki came in through class 2-A's dormitory doors. Being his second year at UA the school was allowing students to go back into student internships. With Best Jeanist still off the streets, Katsuki wound up interning with Fatgum, using the link between Eijirou and him to get in. Katsuki hadn't expected to be out for so long, there had been a bad villain that showed up at a different agency and it was a perfect match for both his and Fatgum's abilities. Fatgum had allowed Katsuki to work on it with him, nevermind the fact that Katsuki had already planned a study date for your upcoming test Monday, he jumped at the chance to work with the heroes.

Katsuki knew, or at least he hoped, that you wouldn't be that mad or upset at him for ditching you at the very last minute. It was a leg up in the hero industry, it was a helping hand, he could make more connections and improve his skills. As a student hero, you should know how important this is. He'd want you to make the same choice if it was reversed.

Despite abandoning your date, Katsuki wasn't heartless. He bought a bouquet of hydrangeas as an apology. Apologies weren't something he was good at, but he hoped you would accept it. Katsuki was hoping you would be up waiting for him in the dormitory lounge when he came back, but he knew that one was a longshot. He'd rather have you in bed resting, or making up for the studying he promised to help with but hadn't. Katsuki was hoping he'd find you in the dormitory lounge waiting for him, but instead, he found two of his peers.

"You were out awfully late, weren't you?"

"Shut it, pink face. I need to go see [Y/N] and then head to bed, like a smart student. You and dunce face do realize that we have a big test Monday, don't you?"

Katsuki marched right past Mina and Denki, who were sitting on the couch, towards the elevator to get up to your dorm. If he was right, Mr. Aizawa would be asleep by this hour, and getting into your dorm would be no issue. Katsuki stopped walking towards the elevator when he hears Minas' voice speak out again.

"Did you really get hydrangeas for her? You ditched her for your internship and you got hydrangeas? Girls like roses Katsuki. If a guy ever brought me hydrangeas, I'd kick his butt to the door. Queens deserve better."

"What the fuck are you implying raccoon eyes?"

Katsuki turned back around to yell at Mina for implying that he wasn't good enough for you. He nearly crumpled the flowers by clenching his hand. Mina didn't know what she was talking about. He had brought you hydrangeas several times before, you never complained about it. Denki spoke up to try and intervene Katsuki from blowing up on Mina.

"I think what Mina meant to say is that we're just worried for you. You really like [Y/N], right? Take it from a guy who gets dumped by girls a lot. Pretty girls like [Y/N] don't need to sit around waiting for guys like us. While you're trying to further your career you're ditching her, not to mention, when is the last time you showed her affection?"

"For starters, dunce face, don't call my girlfriend pretty. Secondly, there are no guys like us and girls like [Y/N], there's me, her, and all of you fucking extras that need to get out of my relationship."

"Fine, don't take our advice. Just so you know, [Y/N] isn't in her dorm, she's in the kitchen."

Mina practically sings her words out, and Katsuki changes his course of route from the elevator to the kitchen. He had a scowl on his face the entire time, courtesy of Mina and Denki. He had to restrain himself from beating them with the bouquet. Katsuki reached the kitchen door and he took a minute to recompose himself from his previous anger to a calmer version of himself. He pushed the door open with a calmer smile on his face but stops after opening it halfway.

"What's the answer to number two?"

"Uhm... 6?"

"That's right! Here's your reward."

Katsuki clenched his fist, practically ruining the flowers. He ditched you and your study date, he shouldn't be getting so mad at seeing you and Deku study together. You can have friends other than him. You can be around members of the male gender other than him. Even if it is shitty Deku. You're allowed to have a life outside of Katsuki, but as Deku broke apart a cookie and threw it right into your mouth, a sweet reward for getting the question right, he was ready to toss hands with the boy.

"We're gonna ace this test Monday. Thanks for studying with me Deku. I hate studying alone and you're great at math. Usually, Katsuki helps me, but he got busy."

"It's no problem, [Y/N]. Seriously, I'm always here if you need me."

Katsuki quietly pulled the door shut instead of going in and interrupting you and dumb Deku. Maybe Mina was right. Katsuki thought about it more as he walked back to Mina and Denki. He didn't really show you affection that much, and he did spend a lot of time in the gym or at his internship. His idea of a date was training together or studying. You probably hated the flowers but chose not to speak on it. If he didn't change, change now and fast he was going to lose you to that shit-munch. He needed to show you he was the better more deserving man. As Katsuki stared at Mina and Denki he uttered the words he never wanted to say to them.

"I want your fuckin' help."

"Bring [Y/N] roses. Girls love roses. Not a daffodil, not baby's breath, not a tulip. Roses."

Roses were Mina's first piece of advice to Katsuki. According to her, girls only cared about getting roses, and every other flower was inferior. She also said apology flowers must be paired with chocolates. Katsuki personally thought that was bullshit. He had been bringing you different breeds of flowers throughout your entire relationship and never once had you vocalized disdain for it. But Mina is a girl unlike him, so she must have had some kind of special insight. You must have just not wanted to make him feel bad for messing up. Katsuki knew he was inexperienced in the dating area, but he hadn't realized he was screwing up so badly.

Katsuki did exactly what Mina said. Saturday afternoon, Katsuki showed up at your dorm with a bouquet of yellow roses and a box of chocolates, the milk chocolate kind. According to Mina, milk chocolate was better than dark chocolate. He knocked on the door after checking his phone for the time. He knew you didn't like getting up early on the weekend, and you had been up late studying the night before. Twelve-thirty seemed like a reasonable time to stop by.

You opened the door, slippers on your feet, eyes barely opened, and a crinkled forehead as you tried to slightly open them to see who you were staring at. You had a pair of shorts on and one of Katsuki's sweatshirts. One you promised you hadn't seen and swore he must've lost in the dorms laundry facility. Katsuki smiled down at your sleepy form, you were adorable. Once you registered who it was you yawned and crossed your arms as you lazily leaned against the door frame and let a small smile cross your face.

"What're you doing here? You were out so late last night, you must be exhausted."

"I could say the same about you, you look like the epitome of tired. How late were you up?"

"No later than two. When did you get in?"

Katsuki didn't want to tell you he came in at midnight. You would've asked him why he didn't come to see you, and he didn't want to say that he saw you and Deku studying together. He didn't want to admit that he felt pained at seeing you together so close. Pained at you needing and using Deku as you would him. Katsuki held up the roses and chocolates and thrust them into your arms.

"I didn't even check the time. I brought you apology flowers and chocolate for ditching you. They're roses!"

"O-Oh, they're yellow."

You took the items he thrust into your arms and moved further into your dorm so he could come in. You set the chocolate down on the bed but kept observing the flowers. Katsuki was quite proud of the flowers he picked out. They were pretty and blooming, and he thought you'd like them. Yellow roses would look good in your dorm room. You, on the other hand, were not ecstatic with the flowers. You bit your lip and tried to make your smile bigger. Did he know what yellow roses symbolized? He had to of known, even Denki would know something this simple. Maybe you were reading into it too much, they're just flowers. It was a gift, not a death sentence to your relationship.

"I'll have to go to the kitchen and see if there's anything I can put them in."

Katsuki could sense you being standoffish. He assumed you were upset at him for ditching you the previous night. He did the flowers right, he would just have to go the extra mile to make you happy with him by serving your needs.

"I can go to the kitchen and find a vase! You just shower or get dressed, or whatever, and I'll even bring you up some lunch."

"You don't have to do that. I can get dressed and do it myself."

"I don't have to do it, I want to do it."

Katsuki cupped your cheeks and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. They were soft and sweet. Katsuki could taste the residue sugar from the cookies you had been eating the night before and he pulled back with a frown, making you frown just as much. He wasn't mad that you didn't brush your teeth, although you should have. He was upset at the reminder that Deku was with you when you were supposed to be having a study date. He was upset that Deku was the one who stayed up with you until two in the morning. He was upset that Deku was acting like a better boyfriend when he was just your friend and nothing more. Katsuki should've been doing more, he should've been doing a better job.

"I really am sorry for ditching you yesterday. If you want, we can redo the date today."

"I really missed you yesterday. I did some cramming with Deku, but I don't think he's as good of a teacher as you are."

"Of course dumb Deku isn't as good as me. I'll grab my books before I come back, we'll have a nice do-over date."

Hearing you say that Izuku wasn't as good as him made him feel good. It was slightly reassuring to Katsuki, yet he couldn't stop this budding feeling every time he thought about you and Izuku studying last night.

"Buy her something nice. Something nice like jewelry. I always see you buying her practical stuff, that's boring. Girls like pretty shiny gifts from their boyfriends."

Mina's second piece of advice had been to buy you some jewelry. According to Mina jewelry was an acceptable gift for a boyfriend to buy his girlfriend. Katsuki had been buying you practical and weird gifts throughout your relationship. He thought they were good, he thought they were sweet and enjoyable. He supposed he was wrong. With every piece of advice from Mina, Katsuki was getting punched in the gut. He thought he was treating you right, he thought he was doing this whole relationship thing right, but he wasn't. If he didn't fix things fast then dumb Deku would steal you away from him.

Katsuki felt inside of his pocket for the necklace he bought you. He had Mina help him pick it out that morning. It had been sitting there in a pretty little black box with a red bow waiting to be opened. He wanted to give it to you when he gave you the flowers, but he didn't want you to view it as an apology gift, he wanted it to be viewed as a sweet, 'I was thinking of you', gift.

By the time Katsuki had gotten back to your dorm room, you were all showered and dressed in fresh clothes. You were wearing comfortable clothes, and Katsuki had to smile again. You looked simply perfect. With your hair pushed back by a headband, sweatpants, and another one of his sweaters which you practically swam in, you looked angelic to him. Katsuki put a bag containing your lunch on the small table you had in your room, he placed the vase containing your new flowers there too before pulling out your lunch. You grabbed his book bag from him with a smile and began to pull his books out and place them alongside yours in a neatly organized fashion to create a nice study space.

"What'd you find for lunch?"

"There wasn't much in the fridge to quickly grab, so I made some curry."

"I love it when you cook. It always tastes good."

You smiled at Katsuki and placed a quick peck against his cheek before taking a seat next to him. His chest swelled with pride as he watched you freely dig into the container of food. You liked his cooking, and as he watched you feast in it he knew you weren't lying. At least he did one thing right on his own. One more wrong thing and he was sure he was going to blow a casket.

"Aren't you gonna eat?"

You stared at him with half-lidded eyes and spoke with your mouth half full, barely pronouncing your words but Katsuki still knew what you were saying. He stopped staring at you and began working on his own dish. Every once and a while Katsuki noticed your eyes go from your food to his face and then to the flowers before diving back to the food. He supposed you really liked them. It felt good knowing he was doing it right. It felt good knowing you were happy and content with him for the moment.

You wiped your face off and just as you were about to clean up your lunch mess Katsuki jumped up and took care of it. He grabbed your lunch containers and closed them before tossing them back into the bag he brought them in. He took a wet wipe and wiped up your table and then proceeded to toss the dirty wipe in the trash bin.

"Ready to study?"

"Yup! You're a really good teacher, I really look forward to our study dates."

You walked over to your bed and took a seat on the ground whereas Katsuki laid across your bed in a position where he could have a book out and also easily look over the edge to see what you were doing. This was how you always did your study dates. Katsuki would work and watch to see if you were slacking off, then you would switch books and quiz each other. Slowly the clock clicked away, each passing second made Katsuki grow antsy. He wanted to give you the stupid neckless he had inside his pocket. Katsuki huffed as he slammed his book shut and pushed it off of the bed. You craned your neck back to see what Kastuki was doing before narrowing your eyes, no way did he think he could stop studying while he made you work.

"What are you doing? Are you studying up there?"

"No, c'mere."

You huffed as you pulled yourself up off of the floor and crawled onto the bed next to Katsuki. A mixture of blankets and skin touched you as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He let his head rest inside your neck, and you struggled to pull out of his grip.

"What are you doing? We're supposed to be studying."

"I don't wanna study right now. The test is Monday, we can still study tomorrow."

You bit your lip as you contemplated his offer. He had a point. The test was Monday morning, and it was only Saturday, not to mention that you had studied with Deku yesterday. The offer was just so out of character for Katsuki, part of you wondered if it was a trick and thought he was going to pull out a piece of rolled-up newspaper to hit you with like he did for Eijirou. You let yourself sink into his arms, you had been up to this for a while, you deserved a break.

"Okay, but only a small break. got it?"

"Mm. I got you something."

Katsuki pulled away from your body to dig in his pocket and pull out the small black box. You rolled over so you could face him and your gift with a growing smile on your face. You loved Katsuki's gifts. Whether it was intentional or not, he always got you something you needed. Whether it was you complaining about cold hands or your lack of working pens, the next day you would find gloves and a pack of pens with a note from him saying something stupid, like 'You better use these to take your shitty notes' and 'If you get arthritis in your hands you can't become a hero'. It was always a surprise and a delight. Katsuki handed over the box and you tore the bow off before opening it.

"It's a necklace!"

"Oh, it's very cute."

You tried not to frown as you looked over the necklace. You tried you're best to put a beaming smile on your face. It was still a gift and you needed to show your gratitude. It wasn't as conventional as your other gifts, but it was still pretty. Maybe it had a special meaning? Maybe he saw it and thought of you? It was just so unusual. He never bought you jewelry and the style was obviously not his.

"Did you pick it out yourself?"

You tried not to make it sound like you were fishing for an explanation as you smiled and clasped it around your neck to show how much you 'loved' it. Katsuki contemplated telling you he picked it out himself but seeing as you were friends with Mina he wasn't sure what she'd say and he didn't want to look bad.

"Well, I got a little help. Figured a female's perspective wouldn't hurt."

Suddenly you felt sick to your stomach. Not only had he given you a necklace, an unconventional and unusual gift compared to the ones he usually gave, but he let a girl pick it out. There was no special meaning, it was just pretty. Your mind went back to the flowers. The yellow roses. He bought you yellow roses. Your whole relationship he brought different breeds and types, never roses. Especially not yellow, the color that represented friendship.

"Thank you, I love it!"

You wrapped your arms around Katsuki, bringing him into a big, tight hug. Although you were with him physically, mentally you were in other places. That dark place in the back of your head was telling you why he gave you these offhanded weird gifts. The dark place in the back of your head was filling you with untrue silly thoughts, yet you couldn't help but let your head entertain them and wonder. The more you wondered, the more you wanted to rip your neckless off.

mina

Pop music could be heard blaring loudly from a BlueTooth speaker connected to Mina's phone as you walked into her dorm room. Without knocking you barged right in, Mina supposed there really was a reason you and Katsuki were together. You were both bluntly rude and sometimes you didn't even realize it. You flopped down at the foot of her bed and looked up at her before greeting your pink friend.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Mina didn't look up from what she was doing, she continued flicking through the pages of some fashion-forward girly magazine as she replied to you. You ran your fingers through her soft duvet as you looked around her dorm room. It looked like Claires threw up on the walls and it gave you a major headache. You and Mina had two different style sets, two sets of style very far apart.

"Did you study for the test tomorrow?"

Unlike her room, that was a subject that would give Mina a headache. Mina roughly flipped another page of the magazine she was holding as she let out an exhausted breath.

"No, and before you scold me neither did Denki. I swear Katsuki is rubbing off on you."

At the sound of his name, your hand went up and touched the necklace he got for you. You only wore it in case you saw Katsuki today, you planned to wear it for the next two weeks, then you'd pretend you lost it. You weren't a necklace kind of person, and it wasn't even sentimental. Mina tossed her magazine down on the bed and a smile played on her face as she saw the necklace between your fingers.

"That's a cute necklace? Did Katsuki get it for you?"

"Yeah, he did."

You answer Mina's questions and inquiries as you let the gem on the necklace slip out of your fingers. You couldn't help but let your face slip into a frown. You couldn't help it, the more you thought about the necklace, the further you fell into dark thoughts. It wasn't even the fact that it wasn't sentimental like all of the other gifts he gave you, it was the fact he let some girl pick it out. You weren't a controlling person, not remotely. If Katsuki wanted female friends he could have them, he did have them. While he wouldn't call Mina a friend, she was. Mina was a girl you felt comfortable with, however, you had already had a girl in mind of who you thought helped him, a girl who wasn't Mina. A girl you didn't feel comfortable with, a girl you knew you shouldn't feel comfortable with.

"Well, it's very pretty, if I had a boyfriend who brought me gifts like that I'd be over the moon. So I take it things between you and Katsuki are good then?"

"I guess, um, I just... I think Katsuki is cheating on me."

You started off in a stutter before you bluntly spoke out your words. The moment your voice hits your ears you cringe at yourself and cross your arms. It was such a ridiculous thought. A horrendous and dark thought that, lately, kept crossing your mind more often than it should be crossing and occurring.

"What? Why?!"

"He's just acting so strange and weird."

You pulled yourself up into a cross-legged sitting position on Mina's bed to talk to her. Mina moved and adjusted her own body, completely immersed in what you were saying. You played with your hand as your next words came out.

"Whenever he's out late he always, and I mean always comes to my dorm before going to bed. He didn't come to my dorm last Friday, instead, he shows up at my dorm Saturday afternoon with flowers."

"Flowers are sweet and romantic though. The fact that he bought them for you means he cares."

"Katsuki always brings me a wide variety of flowers. Hydrangeas, snapdragons, hyacinth. It's out of the ordinary and romantic, but this time he bought roses. Not just any roses, yellow roses. What kind of statement is he trying to make with that one?! Everyone knows yellow roses mean friendship and red means romance. Even Denki knows that."

Mina scratched the back of her head nervously. She supposed she should have explained to Katsuki to get red roses. Katsuki was unaware of things in the romance department. Mina needed to try and dial things back before Katsuki found out what you're thinking.

"Katsuki isn't very romantically smart, you're his first serious romantic relationship."

"Yeah, but we've been dating for nearly a year, and that's not even it. We were studying yesterday, and you know how strict Katsuki is when he's studying, you've seen him with Eijirou. Katsuki was not strict at all, he made me stop studying to cuddle. To cuddle! Can you believe that?"

"Well... Maybe he's trying to be sweeter to you, I mean look at the necklace he got you, it's so romantic."

"Don't even get me started on the necklace! Katsuki always brings me sentimental and meaningful gifts. He buys me pencil led when I'm low, and notebooks when he sees my paper is getting down to the end, he buys me gloves when he notices mine are lost or have holes. They're stupid and meaningful and I love it."

You ran your fingers through your hair distressed and upset. Yanking your hands through a few new forming snarls from laying on the bed, practically pulling some hair strands out.

"The necklace isn't meaningful, it doesn't have sentiment, and he didn't even pick it out himself! Some girl picked it out for him."

"Why, didn't he say who? It doesn't mean anything. The girl is probably a friend."

"I think I already know who the girl is. It's some stupid brunette from Shiketsu High. They met during his supplementary lessons, they met again after their internship heroes started working together regularly. She saw him when we were walking to get coffee and she just had to stop and talk to him, she was obviously flirting with him."

You had never felt more awkward at that moment. She was blatantly flirting with him, whether she knew that you were together or not, you didn't know. You didn't expect Katsuki to talk about his relationship during his internship, he was supposed to be working, but you didn't trust her. You knew from that moment the brunette was going to be trouble. She was interested in your boyfriend and that spelled out trouble to you.

"'had a little help' he says, staking her claim on what's mine I say."

"[Y/N], I don't think katsuki would cheat on you. He wouldn't do that."

Mina felt completely nervous. She hadn't realized you and she had such different opinions on romance and what was wooing and not. Katsuki was romantic, he was doing nothing wrong, she just didn't see it from your point of view. Mina had worried Katsuki for nothing and gave bad romance advice which resulted in you worrying. Katsuki was going to kill her, she needed to fix this.

"[Y/N], Katsuki loves you a lot, don't worry, okay?"

"Okay, you're probably right, I'm thinking too much. I'm going back to my dorm, try to get some studying in before the test tomorrow."

Despite the pink girl's words you still didn't feel good. As you stood up and walked to her door, you still felt a rush of negative thoughts and emotions. You still felt winded and emotional. You still felt hurt and fearful of your relationship. You felt the same as you did when you walked into her dorm.

You nervously tapped your leg up and down on the ground repeatedly as Mr. Ectoplasm and his copies passed out the scored math tests to the class. You supposed a quirk like that must be very useful as a teacher. You kept making little glances over at where Katsuki was sat and your heart clenched. You felt so ridiculous for suspecting he was cheating. You felt completely horrible. Mina was right, Katsuki loved you. Katsuki loved you and he would never cheat. The simple thought that he would was wrong, yet, this lingering feeling told you he was.

Maybe you should talk to him about it. Maybe you should tell him and express your fears and worries. It was better to talk about things like this, it was better to express yourself rather than locking it up and away, where it could fester and damage your relationship. You looked back over at Katsuki, who caught your glace this time and smiled at you. The smile made you feel sick and guilty for feeling this way. You would tell him how you were feeling after class. The sooner it was out in the open the better.

You turned back to your test sheet and frowned at the result. You got a forty. Forty. After all that studying you had received a forty. You wanted to be mad at Katsuki for not making you study harder, but you had studied with Izuku first hand. Maybe Ectoplasm would let you take a retest. Ectoplasm dismissed you all and you quickly folded up your test paper in half so no one could see your result as you exited. After you packed up your school bag you stood out in the hall and waited for Katsuki.

The nerves in your stomach churned. You didn't want to tell Katsuki the negative thoughts that were running through you, you didn't want to tell him how you had dark thoughts and worries about him cheating, but you had to tell him. You had to put your thoughts and theories to rest. Katsuki came out in the hall with his own test papers in hand and you both began to walk to your next class.

"What'd you score?"

"Got a ninety-two. You?"

"A forty."

You sighed as you clenched the paper in your hand. That was a D. Katsuki was on the fritz. He was trying to take Mina's advice. He wanted to be nice and softer to you like Mina told him he had to be, but he couldn't. You should've studied harder, he should've made you study harder. Katsuki gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to calm himself down before responding.

"You'll do better next time!"

"What is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

You looked at Katsuki like he grew two heads. This wasn't your boyfriend, and you slightly wondered if Toga had infiltrated UA. He was never kind like this, he wasn't a positive person. He was supposed to yell at you. Tell you to study better. Tell you you needed to get good scores if you were going to become a hero with him.

"It's just a bad test score, not every score can be a baller."

"I failed my test, you're supposed to yell at me. Tell me I'm stupid, tell me to study more. Tell me anything but that fake positivity shit! You are not acting like yourself, are you cheating on me? Is this guilt? Are you guilty?"

"No! Fuck, no!"

Katsuki dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around you. That wasn't how you meant to tell him about the thoughts you were having. You wanted to tell him calmly and respectfully, you hadn't meant to flat out accuse him, your thoughts just need up tumbling out that way. Katsuki's own reassuring words came stumbling out in your ear as he tightly gripped you against him.

"You are perfect and beautiful, and so important to me. I would never cheat on you, I would never fuck up what I have with you. Why would you think that? I don't wanna make you feel that fuckin' way."

"I know that. I know you wouldn't, but you have been acting so weird and different."

"I need to be nice or else I'm going to lose you. I got insecure, but shit, I should be. You are so perfect, and you deserve roses and jewelry and the world. You deserve someone who cuddles you instead of studying and who doesn't make you feel like they're cheating and fuck-"

You pull out of Katsuki's tight grip and cup his cheeks. Your fingers skimmed over his skin tenderly as you stared up at his red eyes and noticed how watery they were. Your heart broke, you thought he was unfaithful but he was really just scared of losing you.

"I don't want you to be soft and nice. You already give me the world Katsuki. You make me study because you care about me. I don't want you to get me roses and Jewelry, I hate it, and I love the stupid little gifts you get me. You don't give me affection and cuddles, but you do other things, like waiting to walk me to class and making me food."

"You don't want me to be nicer?"

"No! Everything you do is already perfect. Everything you do shows me you care about me in your own way. I love the way you are, I don't want you to change."

Katsuki pulled you back into his arms and pressed a rough kiss against your forehead. He was doing everything right. He was better than dumb Deku, and your test score was proof of that. He wasn't going to lose you, Denki and Mina were wrong.

"Come to my dorm tonight, you need to study better dumbass."

It didn't matter that the whole class watched the exchange between you both. It didn't matter that Mina had screwed with your relationship and felt very relieved to have gotten off scot-free, for now at least. It didn't matter because all Katsuki cared about was the fact that he was a great boyfriend, the best. He didn't have to be softer, nicer. He didn't have to change, you liked it. You loved him, the way he was. That was all that mattered.

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bloobeary · 3 years

Text

The hallway light is off when he gets home, but the one over the stove was on. Bucky knows that Steve did it on purpose so that Bucky wouldn’t have to stumble around inside in the middle of the night. It makes his heart stutter in his chest no matter how many times he sees it. So sweet, that guy of his. He’ll buy Steve some flowers, and make him breakfast and kiss him stupid tomorrow.

He toes off his boots at the door, and sets his bag down on the couch, that way it won’t make as much noise. There’s a few hours of night left before the sun starts to come up, a few hours before Steve peels himself out of bed and heads out for a run.

He’s asleep now, Bucky notices from where he creeps in through the bedroom door, arms around Bucky’s pillow, sheets around his hips. He’s even wearing one of Bucky’s old t-shirts, one that he’s sure he tossed in the hamper before he left. His mouth is a little open, and his hair is going every which way, and Bucky loves him so much it hurts to breathe.

He’s not around enough-- he knows this. Not that it’s on purpose, or Steve would ever hold it against him, but Bucky knows he misses him when he’s gone, just like Bucky misses Steve when he’s gone, too. But Steve gets all quiet and sad about it, mopes around like a droopy flower until Bucky gets home and refuses to admit that it’s hard on him. Usually, it doesn’t take much more than Bucky gluing himself to Steve like a burr to a sock for his smile to reach his eyes again, but Bucky’s not stupid. Plus, Natasha tattles.

Steve goes on ops just as much, ex-Captain America doesn’t get sidelined just because he changed uniforms, so Bucky doesn’t sleep much when Steve’s not around. He sits in bed staring at the ceiling until he can’t take it anymore. Things get fixed when Steve’s gone. Not that any of them are the ones that need to be fixed, but Bucky just needs something to do with his hands. He wonders if Natasha tells on him, too. They’re real pieces of work, two peas in one fucked up pod. They’re figuring it out.

The truth is they work too much, both of them. In and out of the house like it’ll hold them hostage if they stay for too long. Retirement comes up every so often, but even though Steve doesn’t carry the shield anymore, and Bucky’s not the Winter Soldier, they never get around to it. They’ve got too much time coiled in their bones to sit still, he thinks.

Really, Bucky doesn’t trust himself to ever leave if he gets used to being around Steve all the time. It’s hard enough leaving after they’ve got one day off together, Bucky can’t figure what it’d be like to take any actual amount of time off. After the helicarriers and everything else, Steve grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and said dont ever disappear on me again. Bucky shares the feeling. He thinks if they were to retire, officially and on paper, he’d never let Steve out of his sight again. That such a bad thing? He hears it in Steve’s voice, though he’ll never say it, not like that at least.

Bucky undresses quickly, quietly, on his side of the bed, back to the window so he can watch Steve sleep, make sure he doesn’t wake him up. He should shower, really--there’s dried sweat and what feels like a layer of grime caked onto his skin, even though he washed off the dried blood somewhat unceremoniously before debrief and he stinks. He should shower, but that would add ten minutes between him and Steve. It’s a selfish, unhygienic thought, but one he has anyways.

Steve takes a deep breath and stirs a little, and Bucky goes still, holds his breath until he settles again, face tucked into the pillow. Bucky’s heart feels too big for his body, then, and he decides that a shower can wait. He’ll change the sheets the next morning, as penance.

He crawls into his side of the bed, and wraps his arms around Steve’s middle, tucking his face into the rise of his neck and taking a breath. He smells clean and warm and a little like lavender--something about some fancy lotion he bought recently, his brain supplies-- he smells like home.

Bucky hopes a little distractedly that Steve will wake up on his own. He wants a kiss or a thousand and his heart yearns for Steve’s smile, but he also knows that once Steve’s up, he’s up. Bucky’s been jealous of him forever. How the hell can you get out of bed at three in the morning and be ready to go without so much as a cup of coffee? Standing there all chipper, eyes a little tired but bright nonetheless while the rest of the Howlies scraped themselves off the dirt trying to find some sort of energy. He could blame the serum, but the truth is he’s always been like that, even when he was too sick to stand. It’s absurd, is what it is. Bucky takes a breath and presses his lips to the back of Steve’s shoulder.

Steve doesn’t wake up quite, but he does lean back against Bucky’s chest, warm. It’s not a kiss, but it’ll do.

Not such a bad thing at all.

“Buck?” Steve asks sleepily, a few hours later, once the sun is filtering in through the blinds. He yawns and stretches a little. Bucky doesn’t even have to look at the clock to know that it's six-thirty on the dot. “When’d you come home?”

“Few hours ago.” He mumbles, and he feels Steve turn in his arms, and put a hand on his chest right over his heart. Bucky opens his eyes. The fine smatter of freckles over Steve’s nose greet him, and he can’t help but smile. “I love you,” He says, sincere, and Steve smiles, finally. Nearly a century’s worth of hearing it, and it still makes him blush. Some primal part of Bucky's ego swells with that. If he were anywhere near half awake he's probably puff his chest out like a fucking rooster or something equally stupid.

“Aw hell,” He says, laughing a little at himself before leaning forward to give Bucky a quick kiss. “I missed you. You okay?”

Bucky nods and holds Steve tighter, closer. “You gonna go run?”

Steve thinks about it, at least he pretends to. “No,” Steve says finally, simple as that. Bucky kisses him again.

Bucky could sleep another ten hours, and Steve’s liable to let him, even if he himself won’t. Steve puts a hand in Bucky’s hair and scratches at his scalp softly; it feels good, but Bucky makes a face, cause it’s dirty and greasy, and he really needs that shower. “What?”

Bucky shrugs. “I need a shower.” He says but makes no move to get up. “I stink.”

“You don’t.”

“Liar,” Bucky says, and then has to yawn right through it. “Don’t let me keep you if you got things to do.” He mumbles, resting his head against Steve’s collarbone.

It's mostly just so Steve doesn’t think he has to waste his day next to his exhausted and frankly quite dirty boyfriend. Not that said boyfriend will complain about lazing in bed all day next to him. In fact, that’s at the top of his things to do today list. He’s so warm and soft and right there. Bucky slides his hands up under Steve’s shirt, pressing them against his back. Bucky feels like he’s made of silly putty.

“Ain’t a damn thing in the world that’s more important than you,” Steve says, says it in the way he gets sometimes, all serious like he’s under oath or something. Bucky bites him and then kisses right over it.

“We work too much,” Bucky mumbles, feeling himself fall back into that syrupy sleep state. His hand is still in Bucky’s hair. He yawns again, and Steve smiles, kisses his nose. “Should take a vacation.”

“Should retire.” Steve one-ups him.

It’s a joke, kind of. Only it’s not.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky says. He means it. He means it this time. “Sit on the porch and read the newspaper, and then fuck like married people at the end of the day,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs. He yawns again, and Steve says something, maybe, but he doesn’t quite catch it.

“Did you mean it?” Steve asks later, much later, when the sun’s going down again and they’ve both showered. He’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, holding a cooling mug of tea in one hand, sketchbook open but untouched on his lap.

“Mean what?” Bucky asks, looking up from his phone. He pokes his socked foot into Steve’s hip when he doesn’t get an answer. “Hey,” He says, frowning a little. Steve won’t look at him, embarrassed for whatever reason. “Come here.” He asks, and Steve dutifully sets his cup down and snaps his sketchbook closed before scooching over to sit near Bucky. He throws an arm around his shoulders and manhandles him around, a little so that he’s sitting up against Bucky’s chest.

“Mean what, baby?” Bucky asks again.

Steve shrugs, and then sighs. He turns to look at him. “That we should retire.”

Bucky blinks and then thinks about it. He could do without shipping out every couple of days, he’s getting old, after all. They both are, technically, but Steve wears it better. Probably because he did all his sleeping in one go. Even then, Bucky’s a year older, so he has well earned the right to complain, thank you very much.

“Yeah.” He says, and it surprises both of them. Steve turns to look at him, eyes wide, mouth half caught on a smile like he’s not sure he should yet. “You?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, I think… I think I did.” He says, and then a smile curls onto his face. Bucky laughs at him, for good measure, and Steve kisses him. “I miss you, you know.”

“Aw, babe,” Bucky teases, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder and hugging him close.

“Oh, Lord.” Steve chuckles and tries to squirm away, but it’s half-hearted, and Bucky’s got too good of a grip on him for it to work. “You miss me?”

“Course I fucking miss you,” Bucky says, honest, and Steve surprises him by grabbing him by the chin and kissing him. The angle is a little weird, but it doesn’t matter.

“So what now, huh?” Steve asks, and Bucky shrugs.

“Sit on the porch,” Bucky suggests, and Steve snorts.

“We ain’t got a porch.”

“I’ll get you a house with a porch that wraps all the way around it, like in that movie you made me watch,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs.

“The Notebook?”

“Sure.” Bucky says, not sure himself of the name but he does know that the end made him get a little teary-eyed, and Steve full-on cried, like snot-bubble cried, and they didn't let go of each other for the rest of the day. Not a very comedic romantic comedy.

“Yeah, and what else?" Steve asks, still half-joking. "Could we get a dog?"

Bucky thinks about it, thinks about how somewhere in the middle of Europe they found a stray litter of puppies, how Steve carried three of them zipped in the front of his jacket until they found the nearest inhabited town, how he tried to hide how upset he really was when they had to leave. Bucky takes a good long look at him, how there's still a light dusting of blush on his cheeks, and puts a hand on his face.

“Whatever you want, doll.” Bucky says, and he means it.

#something short and sweet #stucky #fic #canon? i barely know her #drabble #stevebucky #you can read her on ao3 too

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

Impulse: Part 2 (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Pena as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: ANGST!!! Explicit drug and alcohol abuse from the beginning, depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing, major character death, blood, smoking, gun violence, show level violence

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: The response to the first part of this has been fucking insane! I was not expecting you guys to like it so much, so thanks a lot! Like I said before THIS IS THE END OF THE STORY BUT NOT THE END OF THE SERIES.

Part 1

Sleep never found you. You drank the bottle of wine Connie gave you without a glass, letting the alcohol wash away your anxieties as you stared out the window to the city surrounding you. You had dreamed of coming here since the idea was first put forward to you. You had the chance to capture Escobar! Ideas of chasing him through the city being the one to catch him, finally stop the war and be a hero had flooded your imagination. You knew that was never going to happen now, not only because the true scale of the horror here was much larger than just one man, but because you were going home.

It was the only logical solution. The only one that didn’t result in your death, at least. If you stayed it was almost certain to be a death sentence, by your hand or at the hand of someone else. If you stayed you would die. If you went home, maybe someone could help. As much as it pained you, it was the only plan that made sense.

Still a little drunk, you called the ambassador’s office leaving a message on the answerphone for the secretary to find when she got into work. There was no going back now.

You showered, changed your clothes from the day before into new clean ones. You spent a little extra time on your hair, singing along to the radio while you attempted to fix the birds nest on top of your head. You looked tired, not just your skin- it was like your soul had been tainted now. You forced a smile, practising in the mirror. You were not convincing even yourself; your eyes were red and sunken from lack of sleep; your nose was red from the constant scratching and your eyes had no light. You looked as rough as you felt, cravings were starting again you felt like your whole body was on fire, itching from the inside out. As the effects of alcohol wore off, the need for a replacement was heightened.

Still wanting to avoid Javier, you knocked on Steve’s apartment and he took you to work. When you arrived, Javier was already at his desk. As if nothing was wrong, he slipped a packet of cigarettes over to you as had become your tradition. You never brought cigarettes here, it just became a habit that the two of you shared. You took one, lit it with your Zippo and took your first nicotine hit of the morning. Javi claimed he let you share because he was trying to cut down, you doubted that. It was a peace offering today.

From then on you could almost forget anything had happened the day before. The three of you got on with your usual day's tasks. A cigarette never left your lips all morning. It wasn’t what you wanted but the nicotine was doing well at curbing your cravings. Javier and Steve were in and out all morning while you did the paperwork that they didn’t have time for. The mundanity of it was exactly what you had needed.

Lost in concentration as you struggled to read Carrillo’s terrible handwriting for his part of your case report, you didn’t hear the phone ring. Being closest, Steve answered the call, said something you didn’t hear and held the handset out in your direction. You looked up. You never got calls.

“It’s for you,” Steve passed the phone to you, a suspicious look on his face.

You took it and placed the receiver between your head and shoulder while you looked for a paper you’d been looking for. You nearly dropped it when the receptionist on the other side told you she had got you a meeting in the hour. You hadn’t expected it so soon! You hadn’t practised what to say! You thanked her and hung up, quickly standing up to collect your things.

“Hey, hold up Rookie where are you going?” Steve called after you. Javier looked up from his work, equally as confused.

“Out,” you called back, already through the doors. You didn’t see the look of concern the two men shared when you left the room.

It felt strange driving somewhere on your own. You always had Javier, Steve, or Connie. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d driven yourself somewhere. But you needed to do this alone. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do one thing right completely alone.

You were scared, terrified of what was going to happen. Your palms were so sweaty you could hardly grip the wheel. Each intersection you were tempted to turn around and go back, pretend nothing had happened. The idea of giving in one last time filled your mind, you became so distracted you didn’t notice the traffic in front of you and nearly rear-ended a taxi in front of you. The annoyed driver flipped you off out the window. The near miss brought you back to reality, you took a deep breath and shook your head of all the thoughts. You could survive without it.

On the walk through the embassy, you passed the place Javi had pushed you against the wall, where you’d flipped out. A black scuff mark was the only evidence anything had happened, but your memory supplied you with the rest of the details. Hot guilt spread over the back of your neck and you sped up, averting your eyes when you passed the bathroom a little further on. You had let this go too far, but you were fixing it. You were going to be better.

The assistant outside the door beamed at you, offering small talk while you waited for the ambassador to finish his meeting. She mostly asked after Javier. After a few minutes, the ambassador emerged, two well-dressed men walked out with him, and he smiled warmly.

“Y/N, nice to see you again so soon,” You took a deep breath and quickly wiped your sweaty palms on your pants, “Come on in,” He showed you inside and offered you a seat on the couch to the side of the room. You sat down, gladly accepting the drink his assistant offered. The ambassador dismissed her and sat down opposite you, sipping his glass of whiskey. “What can I do for you?”

---

You stepped out of the room and felt lighter and heavier simultaneously. You confessed, told him everything from the beginning when you first met Maria to yesterday’s events. You’d confessed, you were on your way to help but that had come at a cost. You were leaving on Monday; your position was in question and the ambassador had been far from sympathetic. You managed to hold it together inside but as soon as the golden sun hit your face you broke down into tears.

He had been kind in not arresting you, but his words were far from it. Called you a failure, weak, pathetic. A disappointment to the agency and the country. The disgusted look on his face was one you wouldn’t forget, seemingly imprinted on the back of your eyelids flashing with every blink you took. Your nose itched as if automatically knowing what you would do to soothe your pain, body craving the solution to its problem, but you ignored it.

Instead, you got back in the truck and drove. Music cranked way up so you couldn’t hear yourself think, driving until you felt better. You didn’t need the drug; you were stronger than that! You thought you were until you came to Maria’s house. Like a homing pigeon, you had subconsciously driven down her street, despite it being in nearly the opposite direction to your destination. You slowed down and sat outside the building just watching it. Tempting yourself when you know you shouldn’t. You knew she was home; you knew she would have some for a party or just for her personal use! She could help you. She was a great friend. She wasn’t going to judge you.

Before you knew it, you turned the car off and had a hand on the door handle. Your hands were trembling as your body was fighting against itself. You knew how easy it could be, how good it would feel to get just a little taste. Maria would probably have good food too, maybe you could go inside to have lunch. You hadn’t eaten since dawn and your stomach growled. If she happened to have coke it wouldn’t be your fault, you would be being a good guest!

You were about to give in when you spotted Javi’s yellow sunglasses reflecting on the dash and his words from the day before rang in your head. You’re better than this. Your hand let go of the door and you sighed heavily. Even in your head, the asshole was right. If you gave in now, what was the point of everything you had just done in the embassy? If you gave in now you were exactly what the ambassador thought you were; weak and pathetic. If you left now, you were still you. The real you. The one who had fought tooth and nail to get down here. The one who helped people, who saved people. You had proved yourself against people’s preconceptions every day here, you couldn’t give up now. You took your hands back to the wheel, turned the ignition and drove away, tears rolling down your cheeks.

The office was empty when you returned to the compound. Confused for a moment, you looked for a note that was usually left if the boys were called away quickly. There was nothing. You sat down at your desk and wondered. Steve’s jacket was still on the back of his chair, Javier’s tie discarded haphazardly on his desk. They couldn’t have gone far. Then you remembered. You had a strategy meeting with Carrillo which according to the clock on the wall started thirty minutes ago. You cursed aloud and ran to Carrillo’s office.

“Rookie, nice of you to join us,” Carrillo said sarcastically as you slipped through the door into the room.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” You said, taking a seat on a desk across from the men.

“Maybe Peña should make a note of it for your report card,” Carrillo added with a smirk, you frowned.

“I said I’m sorry,” You grumbled, not in the mood for his bitching. You had just had one of the hardest conversations of your life, you didn’t need Carrillo making your mood any worse. You crossed your arms and sulked in the corner. Carrillo always had a way of making your mood sour instantly, you detested him.

Luckily, he gave up quickly and returned to his previous speech. You were barely listening, constantly catching yourself drifting off in thought, until you heard your name.

“Peña and L/n are on stakeout tonight,” Carrillo said. The mention of your name with Peña’s made you snap back to reality quickly.

“Can’t Steve do it?” You asked, interrupting him. The idea of spending any time with Javi felt like a nightmare. You could barely even look at him out of shame and embarrassment let alone spend ten hours with him in a car.

“You’re late and now you want to start questioning my authority?” Carrillo bit back.

“I’m not questioning your authority, sir,” You snarled, “I am saying I- actually no I don’t need to explain myself to any of you. I refuse,”

“Do as you’re fucking told, Rookie,” Javier finally snapped. He had been silent throughout, letting Steve and Carrillo discuss the plan while he smouldered in his seat, watching you instead. You had that faraway look you had in your eye yesterday, red eyes and constantly fiddling with your sleeves, he assumed the worst. He was sick of it.

His sudden outburst made everyone in the room stop. You were shocked, he’d never used that tone on you before. Everyone looked at him, then to you. Your eyes were big and glassy full of tears, mouth dropped a little, staring wildly at Javier. After a moment, you swallowed down whatever back talk had been sat on your tongue and settled down again, looking away from the man and down to the files on the table.

As soon as the meeting was finished you walked out as fast as possible. You were trembling with a mixture of anger and shame; you couldn’t work out if you were going to cry or scream. Both would work. You wanted to hide away and hope that Javier would just leave for the stakeout without you.

“Are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on with you and Javi?” Steve asked from behind you, jogging to catch up with you as you marched down the hallway. You sighed in annoyance, you just wanted to be alone.

“Nothing’s going on,” You grumbled.

“So that in there was nothing?” He pressed. You shrugged and shook your head. Steve scoffed, “You leave all afternoon on your own, you won’t tell anyone where you are going. You come back late, and then try to get out of a shift? Fucks wrong with you?”

“Fuck off, Steve it’s none of your business,” You muttered, sitting down at your desk doing your best to ignore him and start some paperwork. You didn’t look at what you were doing, more just using it to cue him to leave. He didn’t take it.

“You’re part of my team, it is my business,”

“It’s nothing to do with you. It's between me and Peña and it’s none of his business either!” You snapped. You dropped the pile of paper in your hand making it thud and you looked over at him with a hard glare, “Both of you need to back off. I’m not a kid, I can deal wit\`h it by myself. I don’t ask you about the arguments you’ve been having with Connie, do I?” Steve scoffed and shook in disbelief. It was a low blow, but you were angry and hurt. He didn’t deserve it, but you just needed him to leave, “Leave me alone. I’ve got shit to do,”

Steve left in a huff. He brushed past Peña, giving his partner the same glare he’d given you, as he stormed out the office. Javier took one look at you sitting at the desk, and walked the other way, he didn’t want to talk to you either.

Alone in the office, you worked almost to spite the two older agents. You could still be productive despite the incessant devil on your shoulder telling you about the as yet unweighted bags in the evidence locker. You could go get some and you'd be much happier, and nobody would know at all. You ignored it, gritting your teeth, and forcing yourself to focus. You couldn’t steal from the evidence! The words on the page didn’t even look real anymore, your brain so overwhelmed you could hardly make sense of the parts in English let alone Spanish.

Memories of better times crept into your mind, remembering the last time you were here so late. You, Javi, and Steve were the last ones in the building still pacing through the coded list of names you had found through your CI. You were all delirious and someone found a radio at some point, you managed to catch a station playing some American pop music. Prince and Bon Jovi, even some Abba. You danced around the room singing and laughing, dragging an initially reluctant Steve with you. Javier sat and watched, laughing at the two of you making fools of yourself. You were happy then, confident and content.

The warmth of the memory was cut by the ice of the room surrounding you now. There was no laughter, no joy. The two people who meant the most to you hated you now. Where you once felt bravely on the edge of greatness here, you now barely gripped the ledge before you fell to despair. You felt your grip slipping every day that passed.

You sighed, rubbed your hands over your face shaking off the memories and returning to your work. You wondered about food but decided against it, here you were safe from yourself. You couldn’t do anything here without somebody catching you. As well as you hidden your habit you knew you couldn’t try it here, that would be truly insane. You had promised yourself you would stop so you sat and worked alone until Javier reappeared and called you to heel.

No words were spoken on the way out of the compound. You knew the plan already and neither you nor Javier felt like small talk. Javi drove and parked outside a row of houses near the top of Medellin. It was quiet, there was a good view out over the city with all the lights trickling down the hillside to the city centre. You focused on that, turning away from Javier in your seat, to focus on the view.

You dragged your jacket tighter around your chest as the winter air crept into the car. You should have gone home to get a better coat. As mild as it was in the day, up in the hills at night the air was sharp and bit through the thin leather material easily.

The silence in the car was awkward. You could tell Javier wanted to say something, it sat on the tip of his tongue as he flicked from looking at the target and you. Usually, you filled these long tedious times with quiet chatter about something or other that you had read or heard around the office, often teasing Javier over the latest secretary he’d bagged. He often complained about it, protesting that he would rather sit in silence than hear you babbling on, but now there was nothing he would like more.

He wanted to know what was going on in your head. Seeing you so reckless and out of control had scared him. It was his fault he’d not stopped you sooner, not done his job as your mentor properly. He’d only proved himself right by letting you fall like this, that he was never fit for the role in the first place. He had proof of his failings now shivering silently in the seat next to him. Out of everything that he had done, you were his worst failure yet.

Memories of the first stakeout you had been on with Javier came to mind, you remembered how surprisingly fun it was. It was the first time you got to know the man, about a month into your time in Colombia you were still a little awkward around him. Still trying to work out what kind of mentor he was, you had never spent more than half an hour alone with him before. But somehow, you talked all night, got takeout and the time seemed to fly by. Nothing exciting happened but from that moment you two became a lot more comfortable with each other and trust began to form.

You missed being able to have fun with him. You were going to miss Javier, despite the ups and downs of your relationship you admired him and held him with the utmost regard. He was an asshole at times, you butted heads a lot, but he never did anything rash and always had your best interest at heart. You were going to miss him a lot. You wanted to tell him about your decision, but you thought he wouldn’t care, not now. It would be easier for both of you if he never knew.

You looked back at the glowing clock on the dash, barely an hour had passed. It was going to be a long night.

“Where did you go earlier?” Javier finally broke the silence. He wasn’t angry, merely asking. You frowned.

“Why do you care?” You grumbled.

“Answer the question,” He sighed, exasperated by your attitude.

“If you must know, I went to the ambassador’s office,” You said, Javi frowned, it was not the answer he was expecting, “What? Did you think I was going to get high or something?” Javi shrugged. You scoffed. “I do listen to you, you know that?”

“Hard to believe sometimes,” Javi jabbed back. You didn’t have a particularly good track record of doing what you were told, but things always worked out in the end. That was half the reason Javi had left you so long in this mess. He trusted you could get yourself out like always. You scoffed, crossed your arms, and turned away again. The truck fell silent again, Javi took another drag of his cigarette and sighed before speaking again, “What did you talk to the ambassador about?”

You realised he was going to drag it out of you whether you wanted to tell him or not. He couldn’t tell if you were lying, he wanted to believe you- that you had made the right choice by yourself, but he needed to hear it from your mouth. He wanted proof that he hadn’t entirely fucked you up. You took a deep breath before you spoke, facing forward looking out the window so you couldn’t see his reaction.

“I asked to be transferred back to the States, I can’t be here anymore,” Javier looked over at you, his face was almost entirely unreadable. A cigarette smouldered between his fingers, unmoving while he listened to you, “I told him everything, I’m being transferred out on Monday. If I don’t get dropped from the DEA entirely, it’ll be a fucking miracle,” You took a deep breath as tears pricked your eyes, “I let you down. I let you and Steve down, and I am completely in over my head now. I can’t in good conscience stay when I am putting you two in more danger and doing harm to myself. Ever since I got here you have been nothing but helpful. You’re a great mentor and a great friend and-,” You choked on a sob, tears streamed down your face as you confessed to him, “You were right, I wasn’t ready for this, I am fucked,”

“Shit,” Javi cursed under his breath.

“That’s all you're going to say?” You laughed humourlessly. You wiped your eyes and nose with the cuffs of your jacket. That was not the reaction you were expecting from him, “You can tell me you told me so, go ahead I know you want to,”

“We’ve got movement,” He said gesturing to the car that had just pulled up in front of the property you had been watching. Three men got out of the car and walked into the house. Your heart leapt at the thought of this finally being Escobar, that you had caught him when he was least expecting it. There had been rumours he was using this house for a little while, that's what you and Javier were there to investigate.

“Shit,” You echoed Javier’s previous statement, “What do we do?”

“We stay here and watch,” Javier replied sensibly. You knew that was what you should do but the emotion of the day was catching up to you. This could be your last chance and you were going to take it.

“No way, that could be him!” You exclaimed, “I’m not just going to sit here and watch while fucking Escobar passes a hundred feet in front of us!” You sat up in your seat, bent over to tie your shoes ready to go.

“Y/n, no. We don’t know it’s him,” Javier tried to reason but your hand was already on the door, gun ready in the other. You’d made up your mind, too full of frustration and emotion to stop for a minute to think.

“Javi come on! I know you’re sick of this bullshit too! If I’m leaving Monday, I don’t want this to be wasted. Call Carrillo, get some backup, we’ll go now,”

“I said no,” He protested.

“Fine I’ll go by myself, you stay in the truck and keep deniability,” You opened the door and slipped out into the cold Medellin air before Javi could answer. You pulled the gun from your back, loaded it, and crept to the house not once looking back at Javier in the car.

You ran across the road and slipped through the alleyway which separated the house from the rest of the row. Around the back of the building, pressed up the wall, you peered through a window. A small crack in the curtains didn’t let you see much but you could hear at least two voices. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, held your gun tight and moved again, walking along the wall to the first door you could find. It was open.

You crept inside, keeping as quiet as possible. It was dark inside the small porch; you couldn’t see your footing. Your foot met with a glass bottle kicking it across the floor till it clattered against the wall. You winced and stood still, listening out for any sign the occupants had heard you. Sound from a TV still played, you were in the clear for now. You pushed on through the house, carefully pushing open another door which opened into a kitchen.

The warm light hurt your eyes a little, you squinted to adjust. The kitchen was well used, a pile of pans sat dirty in the sink and a pot of half-eaten food sat on the stove. You stopped to think for a second what your plan was. Until that moment you had been so caught up in the fact Escobar could be here, you’d run in without a plan. You were starting to think that wasn’t the best idea. You considered turning back, waiting outside for Javi to join.

You looked up from your spot to see a man had entered the room. Tall, dark curly hair, you instantly recognised him. Diego, Maria’s boyfriend. Your stomach dropped; this was the worst possible thing to happen. He recognised you too, his dropped jaw quickly turned into a smirk as he pulled out his gun and pointed it at you.

“Isabella?” He asked using the name he knew you by. Isabella Rodriguez, you had used the name for months to get into Maria’s group and get intel. “I knew there was something off about you!” He smirked.

“Lower your weapon, now!” You ordered. Your heart hammered in your chest, feeling the absence of a tact vest now. You were completely vulnerable, stood up against Diego’s gun in nothing but a leather jacket. He didn’t move an inch, so you pressed again. “Put it down and I don’t put a bullet in your skull,” You growled, becoming impatient. You were completely stuck; you had no plan at all other than to stall until Javi arrived.

Suddenly a cold press of metal stamped against your back. Your breath hitched at the contact, but you remained as calm, keeping your focus on Diego. Before you could even register it, your legs were swiped out from under you. You fell forward with a thud, your gun sliding across the tile away from you.

You fell hard, hitting your nose on the ground instantly cracking it. It throbbed and blood poured out. You pressed up but were pulled back onto your knees by the hair by the unknown man behind you. You groaned and spat out the blood that had trickled into your mouth. That was when another familiar face appeared in the doorway. The man who haunted your dreams, who’d driven you to this mess in the first place, Pablo Escobar.

He was older than the photo that donned your office wall, fatter, and more tired looking; but his image had been drilled into your brain so much it was unmistakably him. It was almost underwhelming to finally meet him; he was far too human. Far too real. There had been an air of omnipotence that had built up whilst you chased him, always just out of reach. He always knew the next move; he planned every move. But now to be here in front of you, in flesh and blood, you realised he was just that. Flesh and blood.

He sighed when he bent over to pick up your discarded gun. He inspected it in his hand, grimaced then flicked the safety off and pointed it at you. Your heart rattled so fast it made your chest ache. Bottom lip trembling, eyes filling with tears, your eyes locked with his. This was most undoubtedly the end.

The cold metal of the gun’s barrel pressed against your forehead and you screwed your eyes shut, praying for Javi and Carrillo to come through the door and save you. You wished you could apologise for being so brash, and forever causing such a mess. You slowly opened your eyes again to meet with your reaper, tears rolled down your cheeks. His cold dead eyes saw into your very soul. You didn’t need to say anything, he could read your mind.

“You know how we deal with rats, right?”

Javier had called for back up, Carrillo and his a team of men came quickly with Steve in tow. Javier hadn’t explained much of the situation, there wasn’t much too explain yet but Steve was furious.

“Why the fuck didn’t you go with her?” Steve burst from the truck before it stopped moving, barrelling towards Javi.

“She ran off! I had to call you,” Javi exclaimed, backing up away from his partner.

“That’s a fucking first,” He snarled.

The men were saved an argument as the sound of a gunshot disturbed the air, reminding them of the task at hand. The black car parked in front of the house screeched as it sped away, out of the city. The men shot at it but missed. That wasn’t their priority. Headed by Javier, the men ran on into the house through the open front door. They had to find you.

“You go upstairs, I’ll take down,” Javi barked at his partner, who obediently followed the order.

It was clear from the contents of the house, whoever had been here hadn’t been here long. There was barely enough furniture to make it comfortable, what personal items had been left were few and far between. The entire place stank of urine and burnt food. Javi moved through the property quickly, clearing every small room he went.

“Y/n!” Steve called as he searched upstairs. There was nothing upstairs except for a couple of stained mattresses, a disgusting bathroom, and a discarded razor. There was barely a sign that people had been living there let alone any sign of you. Dread was starting to creep up in his stomach as he walked back down the stairs. He hadn’t heard anything from Javier to announce you’d been found. Maybe you were taken in the car they’d failed to stop.

Steve found his partner standing in the kitchen at the back of the house. Javier stood still, his back turned to the entrance. He didn’t move a muscle when Steve entered the room.

“Javi?” Steve prompted when he didn’t move. He came closer and saw what was holding his attention.

You.

Slumped on the floor, knees trapped under your chest, blood poured out of an open wound in your head. Blood covered the tile floor, spilling down channels in the grout. Steve couldn’t look, nearly vomiting as if his body was rejecting the horror that overtook him at the sight. He quickly dragged Javier by the arm, to turn away. Javier lashed out, shoving him off. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, lit up in the dim light of the house. Steve had never seen him cry before.

“Fuck!” He yelled, throwing himself at the dirty couch in front of him. It didn’t move. Unsatisfied, Javi stormed out, shoving past Carrillo and his men who had returned from their search, to get some air. Steve let them through, pointing over at your body.

Grief had settled over him quickly, guilt came second, making Steve’s whole world fuzzy. He was stuck between joining Javi in running for the hills and not wanting to leave your side. He watched on patiently as your body was laid out. One of Carrillo’s men took photos of the scene, Steve almost laughed at the sight. This wasn’t something he was going to need physical reminders of, it would be etched on his memory forever.

Eventually, an ambulance was called, and your body was taken away. Steve followed you out, getting one final look before the doors were closed. People trickled away, Carrillo clapping him on the back in some attempt at comfort, and soon Steve climbed back into his truck completely alone again. Javi’s truck was gone. No doubt burying himself in some poor girl somewhere to burn the anger out.

Steve was angry. Angry at Javi for letting you go alone, angry at himself for not switching with you when you protested. He lashed out, slamming his hands onto the wheel, and letting out a cry of frustration. He wondered if you knew this would happen. There were so many things he didn’t understand about what had happened, and it seemed he was never going to find out now. It was all over.

He drove back to his apartment in complete silence. His anger had cooled, red hot now cold settled in his chest as cold blind rage. Rage at your actions, at Javi’’s, at Escobar and this fucking country. Everything about this place was hell, what had he done to deserve to see someone so young, so promising, die like that. It was not fair.

Steve stumbled into his apartment and was met by Connie making dinner in the kitchen.

“Hey! Everything okay?” She asked innocently. From the kitchen, she couldn’t see her husband collapse on the couch or his slumped over form and how he scraped his hand over his face as if to pull the guilt out of his skin. “Hey next time you see Y/n, could you give her this?” Connie started talking, walking into the room with a sweater in her hand. The mention of your name made Steve’s heart break a little more and tears spilled from his eyes, “She left it here after dinner last week, I keep forgetting-“ Connie entered the room and instantly saw Steve’s anguish. “Baby? What happened?”

“She’s gone,” He croaked out. He didn’t need to stay anymore. He couldn’t. Connie dropped the sweater in shock and stumbled to Steve who instantly wrapped himself around her.

---

Javier, in typical fashion, rang his usual girl and fucked his frustration out. Unusually rough and uncaring, he hoped the excursion would force the overwhelming remorse out. Even when he finished and the girl hobbled out the apartment, clutching his money, the guilt didn’t leave. It only got worse.

He couldn’t remember how long he had stood looking at your body on that floor. The shock was so overwhelming he had just locked onto you as if waiting for you to jump up and say it was a prank. He took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it until it nearly made him choke to enjoy the heady sensation of it. He hadn’t moved from where the girl left him. A bottle of whiskey was within reach and another pack of cigarettes, he could stay there sinking into the couch until it all made sense.

He assumed you had given up. The hope he held at the beginning of the day, seeing you walking into the office smiling and happy had been shattered by the time you returned from your secret visit to the embassy. Of course at the time he was ignorant and had thought the worst of you. Then in the truck you had told the truth. You were trying to fix it the best you could and he never had a chance to say how proud he was of you. It had all been snatched away.

Javi couldn’t get his head around it. Death wasn’t new to him, he’d seen it countless times before, he had seen worse things working with Carrillo, but tonight threw him into a spiral. You had so much promise, so much more to give. It wasn’t fair. He should have intervened sooner, should have taken the time to talk to you the first time you showed up high at his door. Maybe this would never have happened if he had done his job properly. He may as well have shot you himself.

You said you had failed him, but he had failed you in the end. He should never have let you go alone even for a minute. He didn’t even stay to help move your body, he abandoned you for his own comfort. Guilt pressed down on him hard at that fact. He was selfish. He claimed to care about you but had left you dead on a dirty stone floor for someone else to pick up. You didn’t deserve that. He wanted to apologise to you, but that was never going to happen now.

Possibly the worst part was that he knew he had to write up the events that lead to your death. He would have to repeatedly explain it to the DEA, to the ambassador, to anyone that fucking asked him why the hell he let you go in there alone.

He drank more until the glass wasn’t fast enough. He drank straight from the bottle letting it burn his throat. He drank like the answer to the questions surrounding him was stuck to the bottom of the bottle. He wondered if you knew this would happen. Who had shot you? Why? At what point had this become inevitable? Did you know just how much you meant to him?

Eventually, the whiskey swept him up and let him sleep. He would have to wake up for the nightmare to start.

NEXT PART

---

*insert evil laugh* wanna get tagged in the next part? Let me know!!

tag list: @beskar-tano @beskarbabs @buckysbeloved @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @this-cat-is-dea @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @lesbianlena

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 2

insomniac

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: insomnia, nightmares, (remembering) death, panic attack, cuddling, fluff

AN: Here she is!! I’ve decided to give oc a little ~tragic backstory~ and I really hope it comes across like I’ve intended. I wouldn’t go so far as to call in angst, necessarily, but there’ll definitely be some in the future. Also, I know I’ve painted Annie and Reiner in a really bad light so far in this particular fic, but please know that’s not how I view them in canon at all - it’s simply because someone had to be the bad guy:( Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and as always don’t hesitate to reach out via reblog/ask with any suggestions/feedback/questions!! ~valkyrie

(read Part 1.5 here)

Bodies jostle against you in the darkness to the beat of music you can’t hear. The buzzing gets louder, drowning out even your own screams for them to stop.

Stop. Stop. STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!

“STOP IT!” You can hear yourself this time, your voice embarrassingly loud in the cramped room. You slap hands over your mouth but everyone’s already turned to look at you, disgusted at the display of emotion. Even they peel their faces apart to sneer down their noses.

“Why should we?” Annie’s voice rings with superiority, swirling around the space and nestling in the crook of your neck. You shudder away, but the faceless bodies shove you back.

“Don’t you know this is your fault, anyway? You weren’t enough for me.” Reiner jeers with a satisfied smirk. The whole room laughs, cackling and giggling spitefully. You can’t move, muscles frozen, as they turn back to each other and continue making out. His hand in her hair, her thigh hooked over his hip, obscenely wet noises from their joined mouths.

You scream and scream and scream, jaw wide and aching, and all of a sudden the scene shifts and you’re at your mother’s bedside. Your breath hitches and you’re screaming in a child’s voice this time.

“Mommy, Mommy, no, please, no, MOMMY, PLEASE--”

Your hand twitches towards her and its movement against soft sheets brings you back to consciousness.

You’re spread-eagled in bed, comforter kicked almost completely off, chest heaving.

“One. Two. Three. Four…” you count in a hoarse whisper to yourself, staring out the window at gently falling snow illuminated in yellow streetlights. It takes you to one hundred and twenty-seven before you’re calm enough to do anything productive.

You reach out a blind hand to find your phone on the nightstand and raise it up to check the time. 4:47 am. Nearly three hours of sleep.

Eh, good enough for jazz.

You heave a sigh, then push up to sit on the edge of your bed and flick on the lamp. The sudden bright light makes you squint against sharp pain behind your eyes and turn away in search of a sweatshirt. Some sifting through the ever-growing pile of laundry later, you settle on a green university hoodie and pull it on over your ratty tank top. Your toes and fingers always feel like icicles after waking up from a nightmare, so you find faux fur-lined slippers as well.

As you push past your bedroom door and into the living room, a figure in the comfy armchair catches the corner of your eye.

You nearly jump out of your skin before recognizing who it is. “Christ on a cracker, Levi! Nearly scared me half to death.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry as he marks the page in his book and sets it on the coffee table.

“What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Well that’s not ominous or anything,” you mutter with an eye roll as you cross to the kitchen and set the kettle to boil for coffee.

Levi sighs and pinches the bridge of his elegant nose.

“Sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I noticed you haven’t been sleeping much lately and I’m worried.” He crosses to sit at the kitchen table and speaks to your back as you shuffle around the kitchen.

“What do you mean? Of course I’ve been sleeping. Whaddaya think I was just doing?”

“It’s five am, and you were still up when I went to sleep at twelve. Optimistically, that’s four hours of sleep. And yesterday you went to bed after one, but Hange said you were texting her at five-thirty, and--”

“Jeez, what, have you been stalking me or something?” you ask with an incredulous glance over your shoulder.

“We live together. It’s kind of hard not to notice.” Levi’s tone is the usual dry you’ve come to expect, but there’s an undercurrent that you’re too exhausted to pinpoint. “And Hange also told me she’s been worried.”

“What is this, an intervention? Just because I break up with someone I’m suddenly incapable of functioning?” Your voice (and headache) rises with each phrase, cracking on the morning dryness in the air, and you spin to face him.

“I didn’t say that, I--”

“Am I just supposed to wallow in misery for the rest of my life? No. I’m not doing that, Levi, I’m moving on. I-- I’m a busy woman, I’ve got finals and, and internship applications, and I happen to enjoy waking up early. I like watching the sunrise.” Though your words are rushed and you’re gesturing animatedly, uncertainty seeps through the stuttered phrases in your argument.

Levi lets you finish, then returns in a measured voice: “Why are you so defensive about this? I know you’re busy. So am I. But I manage to get more than four hours of sleep at night. I just want to help.”

His statement hangs in the air like dust mites, swirling around you and clinging to the sticky after-effects of the nightmare in your mind. You frown and drop your eyes to the linoleum, guilt settling into the stickiness.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Your voice is much softer. “I just--” A deep sigh. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

The simple question makes your breath stutter and you scrub a hand down your face in an effort to ground your skin into reality.

“It’s so stupid.” It’s practically a whisper. “I have these nightmares. About my mom. I got them when I was younger, too, but eventually they just sort of… stopped. But now they’re back. And I can’t ever get back to sleep after, so I just stopped bothering to try.”

“You know, sometimes I get nightmares, too.”

The admission catches you off guard, your eyes widening. Levi always seems so… steady and sure, you wouldn’t have expected it.

“Really?”

He nods. “About my mom and the foster homes.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you…” Your heart sinks, and you don’t know how to say you’re sorry for the heartbreak he must’ve lived through with any semblance of tact.

“Yeah. It’s not something I talk about much.”

“Right.” You pause and chew on your tongue thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you have...strategies for when you can’t sleep because of them?”

“I have sleeping pills from my psychiatrist and some meditation practices that work for me. I can send you some resources, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I’d really appreciate that if it’s not a bother.” You feel kind of sheepish now, for raising your voice, and so try to sound extra thankful for his help.

“It’s not.” He stands up and stretches both arms over his head, tipping his face up to the sky, lean body arching and twisting with the effort of it. “I’ll send them to you later today. I’m gonna go back to bed.”

“Okay. Thank you, Levi.”

He nods and yawns, nose scrunching adorably. “Night, kid.”

“Good night.”

As his bedroom door clicks shut, you sigh yet again and turn off the stove. The first thing to avoid is probably coffee.

Your fingers flick off last rivulets of water as you step out of the shower. A shiver rattles its way up your spine before you can grab a towel to dry off. Bless Levi, he had done laundry today and the towel is still dryer-warm, smelling of his favorite fabric softener.

As you go through your evening routine (tooth brushing, face washing, hair drying), you can feel a quiet tension set into your shoulders despite the humidity of the bathroom.

The day had gone okay. You managed to resist coffee until 8 am and cut yourself off at 3. A lecture and a studio in the morning left the afternoon for library studying and a trip to the grocery store.

You had actually seen Bertholdt there, in the cereal aisle. You hadn’t been too keen on having that particular conversation, but luckily he hadn’t seemed to be either. The pair of you exchanged sympathetically awkward smiles before turning back to the Cheerios.

The evening consisted of ordering chinese takeout while obsessing over your latest architecture design project, followed by convincing Hange over the phone not to sleep in the mouse lab for extra credit.

“But Bean will be lonely!” she insisted hysterically. “And Sonny wasn’t looking too hot in lab today, what if he needs his mommy and I’m not there?”

“You’re not their mommy,” you reminded her. “They have each other to keep them company, and if Sonny dies, won’t it support your hypothesis anyway?”

She had eventually acquiesced when you promised to help her plan a memorial should they pass in the night.

So now here you are, skin slowly drying, as you psych yourself up in the mirror to go to sleep.

“It won’t be bad. Just use the meditations Levi sent you.” You try to inject confidence into your voice, but you only end up grimacing at yourself in the mirror. “Ah, fuck it.”

You tuck your towel in firmly around your chest and double check to see your things are put away before going back to your room.

As you pass, you hesitate by Levi’s door for a moment. His normal studying music, Chopin, is on and light creeps out from underneath. Another moment of uncertainty, then you gently knock and poke your head in.

“Levi?” He raises his head from where he’s hunched over an easel, paint brush in hand. Brow furrowed and body tensed like a strung bow, he doesn’t look happy to be interrupted.

Fuck.

“I, uhm, just wanted to say good night.”

He grunts and turns back to the painting.

You take that as your cue to leave.

Back in the sanctuary of your own room, you curse again and kick your desk chair, sending it rolling a couple inches.

Why had you bothered him? To say good night?

“Stupid, stupid, UGH.” Your dramatic outburst ends in flopping face-first into bed. Just because he felt concerned enough to stage a fucking intervention doesn’t mean he’s your fucking nanny. Idiot.

Eventually, you roll over and get up to change into pajamas.

Settling into bed, you open your newly downloaded meditation app and start an audio.

“As you prepare for your meditation practice today, find a comfortable position sitting or lying down where you can fully relax….”

The cool female voice wraps your mind in a hazy blanket of fog and eventually coaxes your body into an achingly needed sleep.

This time the dream wakes you up whimpering into your pillow, arms flung above your head as though you’re skydiving. With a sucking breath, you lift your head to prevent imminent suffocation and instead settle on your side, staring unblinkingly into the darkness. Breath ragged in your chest, your mind can’t seem to move past the last image of your nightmare.

It’s burned into your retinas when you close your eyes and etched onto the moonlight-pale wall when they’re open: your mom’s pallid face staring up at the ceiling, hands resting on top of her blue embroidered duvet cover, chest still.

A sob escapes your unwilling throat and you’re scrambling to sit up and reach for the lamp. The lamplight suddenly reminds you of your own existence in the physical plane, thrusting all your senses into sharp contrast.

Her greying, thinning hair, the frailty in her fingers, the cracks in her lips, the cloying scent of death.

“Nonononononononono,” you moan, hunched over your knees, fingers tangled in your hair. Your stomach is hollow, chest tight, tears now flowing in earnest. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, not since 7th grade at least.

Do something, do something, you stupid bitch, your mind is yelling at you, and so you force your body to move. Somewhere, anywhere other than here.

You practically fall out of bed and then lean heavily on your desk to compensate for shaking knees as you move to the door. Feet shuffle in the darkness and all of a sudden you’re sniffling outside Levi’s door, fingers in a deathgrip on your shirt. One, two breaths and you knock three hesitant raps.

Fuck. Shit. Instant regret bubbles up in your throat and you pivot away. Before you can get far, the door opens and you hear Levi’s sleep-ragged voice utter your name like a question. Damn.

You turn back sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve woken you up. Go back to bed.” Your voice is unnaturally breathy as Levi tries to make you out in the dim light of the moon filtering in through the living room window.

He reaches for your shoulder to gently pull you out of the shadows, and realization crosses his face as he registers the tear tracks and haunting terror in your eyes.

“It happened again,” he states.

You nod hesitantly and wipe at your cheeks with the back of one hand. You try again to tell him that no, really, you’re fine and he should go back to bed, but the words get lost in the tangle of truths between your brain and mouth.

Instead, what comes out is: “Can… can I sleep with you?” Your eyes finally flick to his before you quickly follow up. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just- it helps to have someone close….”

Levi watches you for a moment before sliding his hand from your shoulder to your hand and tugging gently.

“Come on.”

You follow him inside and fidget awkwardly at the side of his bed as he climbs in. His room is impeccably neat, not that you would expect anything different from the man who once gave you a five minute lecture about leaving dishes in the sink to soak. It was the most words you’d heard him string together at the time, and he only stopped when he realized you were laughing.

“You sound like my Great Aunt Cheryl,” you said between hiccups of mirth. “Insufferable woman.”

He had looked at you scathingly, then made you promise never to leave the dishes for later again on pain of changing the wifi password.

Once he’s settled, Levi turns back the covers on your side and looks at you expectantly. You falter a split second before climbing in next to him, the familiar smell of his laundry detergent clouding around you as you fall back into soft pillows. He throws the comforter over you, then settles down and opens his arms.

“C’mere, kid,” he says with a tenderness that makes a sniffle catch in the back of your throat.

You roll into his arms, resting your head in the curve of his shoulder and breathe the first easy breath since you woke up. An arm flung around his middle means your whole body is against his, warming you up like a midafternoon nap in August.

Levi settles his arm around your back after tucking in the blankets and holds you like you’ve always belonged there. He gradually, gradually feels you relax into him as your breathing begins to match his own.

After a while, your eyes droop closed and Levi allows himself the indulgence of tucking his nose into your hair. A bouquet of lavender shampoo and you accompanies him softly into his dreams.

(read part 3 here)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #hange zoe #swearing #insomnia #nightmares #panic attack #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Me and my thots

Read on ao3

Billy didn’t black out when the first limb clamped onto his side.

He figured he would.

Figured the searing pain would cause his brain to short.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t even drop when the next one hit, chomping into his other side.

He figures the adrenaline was keeping him going.

And probably the other-worldly strength from whatever bits of the creature was left in him.

All he knows is that the final one pierced his chest.

And he didn’t lose consciousness.

Not as he fell.

Not as Max hovered over him.

Not as he heard shouts, and felt hands pressing into his wounds.

He woke with a start.

He shook the dream out of his head, rolling to press both fists into his eyes.

He slid out from under the thick duvet, pulling it up and over the sleeping form of the person next to him.

Like he did every morning.

He scratched his chest, making his way over to their sunny little kitchen, getting the coffee going.

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about the Mind Flayer.

In his thirty years since that night at the mall, he’s gotten enough therapy to break most of it down, to accept what happened to him, what he was forced without question to do.

He startled as arms slipped around his waist.

“You okay?”

Steve’s voice was sleep groggy, his chin hooked over Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy. I’m alright.”

Steve placed his hand over the faded scar on Billy’s chest, kissing his shoulder blade once.

Billy turned to look at him, taking in the sparse grey hairs Steve liked to complain about, the soft lines near his eyes.

Billy sucked in a gasp of air when he woke, spluttering as his lungs burned.

He was in the hospital, his heart monitor going haywire.

Nurses flooded the room, but Billy paid them no mind, his eyes locking on the big brown ones.

Steve had pushed himself against the wall, giving the nurses room to check him over.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the mall, just knows hat Steve’s face looks hurt, old bruises turning yellow and green as they healed.

He was stabilized, and he felt more steady. His breathing still hurt, but he was doing it on his own.

The few nurses made their way out once again.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Scared me half to death.” Steve didn’t sound scared. He sounded relieved. “I was almost asleep and then you took this giant breath, Christ.”

Steve’s hands were shaking as he lowered himself into a plastic chair facing Billy’s bed.

“Sorry.”

Billy’s voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

“How long-?”

“A few weeks.” Then Steve’s face got hurt that same night.

It was odd looking at him.

He looked so young, not the face dream Billy was used to, the face of a grown man.

“Hargrove, you okay?”

And echo of that dream.

And boy did that hurt, the realization that it was a dream.

His idyllic life with Steve.

Nothing but his subconscious. Probably creating something to keep him calm while his body healed in a coma.

“Why you here?” Speaking still burned his throat. He wished he had some water.

Maybe even tea.

Steve usually makes him a nice chamomile tea when he’s sick. Puts some fresh lemon juice and honey in there. They have a lemon tea in the backyard.

He shook himself.

That was just a dream.

“Been worried about you, man.” Steve wasn’t looking at him.

Steve has trouble with eye contact.

Years spent with a father that forced it only to berate Steve for-

What the fuck. His daydream kept bleeding over, giving him all this nonsense about the dream version of Steve he had conjured up.

“Don’t know why.”

Steve looked at him then.

“Really pulled some shit, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you, you deserve to die, or something. You weren’t in control.”

“Was that night I beat your face in.”

Steve looked away again.

“Water under the bridge.”

Steve once told him he doesn’t know what that expression means, just that he’s heard people use it in situations like this.

“You don’t even know what that means.” Billy couldn’t stop himself.

He just blurted it out.

And Steve gave him a funny look.

Because of course he does. Because this Steve, this real Steve is different than the coma fantasy one Billy conjured up.

“Well, no. But people usually say it like that, don’t they?”

And Billy just stared at him.

And then his vision went hazy around the edges, and he slipped back into darkness.

“Which one?”

Steve was holding up two pairs of swim trunks. Billy was just staring at his ass.

“You know I like those little green ones.”

Steve threw him a look over his shoulder.

“I don’t think the green ones even fit anymore.”

Steve sometimes got self conscious about himself. His thighs had thickened up considerably, his ass getting plumper too. And his belly was soft, doughy, and perfect for squishing.

But the green shorts fit, even though they were tight.

And Billy loved his older body, loved when Steve put on some extra fluff. A chubby Steve meant a happy Steve. And Billy would know.

You learn a lot about a person in thirty-some years.

Steve was dressed now, shouldering a bag.

“Beach time?” His eyes were bright.

“Beach time.”

They held hands as they walked.

The air smelled like ocean spray.

The beach was close to their little house, and they found their usual spot right away, far from any other beach patrons.

“Hargrove!”

Billy came to with a start, back in the cold hospital room, back with a younger Steve.

What the fuck was going on?

“Sorry, you kinda passed out. I thought you were slipping back under, or something.”

Steve looked sheepish.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Not totally.

Because Billy wanted to live in that fucking daydream for the rest of his goddamn life.

“Sorry, I should let you sleep. I mean you’re probably exhausted.” Steve stood up, gathering the few things he had with him, a water bottle, and empty coffee cup, and a book. An old worn out copy of The Outsiders.

That’s dream Steve’s favorite book. He reads it once every year. He said it was the first book he ever read in class that actually gripped him. The only one he actually took the time to push through his rampant dyslexia to read and understand.

He won’t be diagnosed dyslexic until he’s 23. He’ll feel really vindicated and Billy will take him out for a fancy dinner. They’ll go skinny dipping in the ocean after and Steve will whine the whole time.

Billy hadn’t realized he had been staring at Steve the whole time that all ran through his brain, not until Steve snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Billy!”

“Yeah, what? Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

“No, I just-” he tried to scrub a hand down his face, found his muscles screamed out at the movement of his muscles after who knows how long in that bed.

It didn’t matter anyway, as his hands were wrapped up in a mitten of bandages.

“Was havin’ a good dream.”

“What was it about?”

Billy couldn’t look at Steve. Couldn’t look at those big brown eyes, couldn’t search for the specks of gold, the streaks of green that he knows are there.

“Future. Dream future, I guess.”

“Do you-” Steve hesitated, and Billy finally looked at him, watched as he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid. “Do you wanna share?”

“California. Little house by the beach. Slice of Heaven, really.”

“A wife?”

“Been married for a few years.”

“She pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Steve smiled at him softly.

“Sorry you had to wake up to me, then.”

And that? That made Billy wanna tear out his own damn hair. Made him wanna pull Steve to lay on top of him the way they both like, pet through Steve’s hair, tell him how goddamn perfect you are, Sugar.

“It’s okay. Prefer your company.”

“I guess I’m alright if the alternative is being alone.”

“Cut that out.”

Steve blinked at him.

“We’ve been talking like, five minutes and all you’ve done is apologize and talk shit on yourself.”

“Sorry, I- it’s just a habit, I guess.” He was back to playing with his hair. Being a little rougher, tugging on the lock between his fingers a bit. Billy sighed as well as he could with his burning lungs.

“Just, I like it that you’re here, okay? I’d tell you to beat it if I wanted you gone.”

And Steve smiled at him.

One of his six real smiles, not one of the eleven fake ones.

Billy can tell.

Because the real ones make his nose scrunch a bit. They make his eyes go bright and his shoulders bunch up.

And he must’ve fallen back into that dream again, because suddenly he was looking at his Steve, his grown up Steve, giving him that exact same real smile as Billy ran wet fingers over his skin.

And he pulled Steve close to him in the shower, mouthing at the skin of his neck.

And if this was a dream, he was going to burn all of this into his memory.

The way Steve’s skin tastes, the way he gasps when Billy nibbles at his ear. The way Billy feels buried deep inside him, in the soft bed that they share, the one that took months to buy because Steve is weirdly picky about bedframes for no discernible reason.

And just as he was watching Steve’s face crumple, as he was trying to memorize the exact noises he makes as he cums, he was jolted out of his dream by the real Steve, fucking sneezing.

“Sorry.” He looked distressed. “You were like, really asleep and I, I tried to hold it back.”

“’S okay. Know you got that dust thing.”

Billy was drowsy. He felt like he was inches underwater, everything moving slowly around him. Almost like the world was a little muffled.

Turns out his last dose of pain meds had been administered while he was out.

“Wait, what dust thing?”

“Got that. You know. You’re allergic to dust. And peanuts. And cashews. And-the green ones.”

“Pistachios?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me. Nearly fuckin’ killed you first time we really made out. I had just eaten a PB and J. Sent you into anaphylaxis.”

Billy felt himself drifting, that perfect dreamland tugging him back.

And then there was a cold hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“Billy, Billy don’t fall asleep. You gotta, Billy what the fuck? We haven’t made out. We, how do you know what I’m allergic to?”

But Billy was swallowed up by sleep once again.

He was laying next to Steve, stretched out on their bed, Steve’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Today was nice. Haven’t had a day like that in such a long time.”

“We should do it more often, then. Call outta work and hang out at the beach all day.”

Steve rolled a bit to glare playfully at Billy.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of setting our own hours, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Billy!”

And he was back, back to staring at the pale nervous face of Young Steve.

“Billy, you’re scaring me.”

Sunlight was beginning to haze through the meager window at the end of the hospital room. Billy hadn’t had any idea of time since he got here.

Steve looked like shit, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Billy, I don’t know if you remember, everything you said before you fell asleep but-”

“I remember.”

Steve furrowed his brows.

“How do you know that? About, about my allergies. And yesterday, you said, you said I didn’t know what water under the bridge meant. And you said, that we m-made out.”

Billy sighed again, his lungs protesting the effort.

“My dream. The future. You’re the person. My person. And now it’s like, whatever Dream Billy knows about Dream Steve I know. And I figured I just, like, made all that shit up.”

Steve was studying his face.

“Okay, then let’s see if you’ve just had some lucky guesses. Tell me what else you know, and maybe it’s all wrong.”

And Billy didn’t really like the way Steve looked like he hoped is was all wrong. Like he didn’t wanna be tied to Billy in this way.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

“When you were fourteen you watched A Streetcar Named Desire with your mom and you credit Marlon Brando as your queer awakening.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, his mouth trembling.

“Your dad has smacked you once in your life, and it’s when you got the rejection letter from Indiana State. You hid the letter from him because you knew he’d be mad, but he found it and hit you and didn’t talk to you for nearly a month.”

Steve’s eyes were shining now.

“Your mom used to always talk about how much she wished you guys could have a better garden, but because it gets so cold here, she can’t grow anything. The house we have in the daydream has like, a huge fucking garden in it, by the way. I hate gardening but you love it.”

Steve stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room in front of Billy’s bed. Billy just kept going.

It was like everything was ready to burst out of him. To prove that he knows Steve, that he loves Steve. Even if this Steve is somehow different to Dream Steve.

“You go fucking batshit over corn on the cob, just with a little butter and salt on there. That’s somehow your favorite food. Because you’re the most Midwesterner to ever Midwestern, I guess. Your second favorite food is your grandmother’s lasagna. You keep trying to recreate her recipe and no matter how much I tell you it’s fucking delicious, you always get this little pout going and explain to me about how it’s not quite right. You only started smoking because-”

“That’s, I think that’s enough.”

Steve looked like a strong gust of wind would knock him right over.

“It true.?”

“It’s, it’s all true. In, in detail. I mean the, the letter, and my dad. I swore I was never gonna tell anyone about that.”

“It took you a few years. We were talking about my dad. How he treated me, and you admitted that. How sometimes you think about that one time and it makes you sad because that was my everyday-” Billy cut himself off.

Because fuck.

He forgot that Steve knows jack fucking all about Billy.

Which means Steve was currently giving him that look, that wide-eyed, nostrils flared, mouth tight look that he always did when he was angry on Billy’s behalf.

It was kinda hot.

“Excuse me?”

“Forgot my apparent psychic abilities were limited to just me knowing about you.”

“Billy, did your dad hit you?”

And Billy kinda saw no point in lying anymore.

“All the damn time.”

And Steve was back to pacing.

“Fuck. Fuck. That honestly, wow that explains a lot. I mean, yeah. I get it now. I get it.”

Billy let him mutter to himself.

Steve always does better thinking out loud.

“You know, I was actually fucking nervous to tell you, but now I don’t care. Your dad was one of the flayed.”

“Yeah, I know. Only person I never felt guilty about.”

“You’re handling this, like, scary well.”

“Technically, I’ve had thirty years of therapy. All this has been processed already.”

“Wait, your little dream is thirty years in the future?”

“About.”

“So we’re, like, fifty?”

“About.”

“How do I look?”

Billy barked a laugh, regretting it almost immediately as his whole body screamed in protest. He wheezed a few times before he felt like he could speak again.

“I think you’re hot, but you don’t handle aging well.”

“Oh, God. What’s the damage?”

“Not telling. You’re just gonna spend the next thirty years stressing more than you already would. But lemme tell you, first time you found a grey hair? That was the funniest day of my damn life. It was like being in a soap opera. You found it and then called our lawyer to begin drawing up a will. And you kept saying how you probably only have a few god years left in you. It was hilarious.”

“Glad to know you laugh at my pain.”

“It’s one grey hair. Plus you maintain good health, don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time to whine over grey hairs.”

“At least I don’t go bald.”

“Nah. Full head of natural hair. Not even receding.”

Steve brushed a hand through his hair, dropping heavily back into the seat next to Billy’s bed.

“Man, this is too trippy. Like, from my end, we’re not even close, you know? But to you, we’ve been together for decades. That’s fucking wild.”

“Imagine how I feel. Am I some kind of psychic now, or is this all just fucking delusion?”

“I mean, you know too much shit about me for everything to be, like, a figment of your imagination. But what happens now? Like, if we don’t live out the future just like your daydream, is the world gonna fall apart? Or is that an alternate dimension? Like, if the Upside Down exists, there’s gotta be other worlds too. Is that one of them and maybe because you were infected by the Mind Flayer you have like, a link between both worlds?” Steve’s brows were furrowed, his eyes darting all over the ceiling as he thought out loud. “And, I mean, I’m confused. I don’t know what my feelings towards you are. Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s been interest since you showed up. But now you’re telling me in some reality, we’ve been together for thirty years, and obviously you know all this deep shit about me, so do we date? When you know me like the back of your hand and I barely know you at all? And are you technically fifty years old? Since you lived out that other life?”

Billy’s head was starting to hurt, and he felt tired again.

“Sugar, you think we could table this?”

Steve’s cheeks went red as his jaw clacked shut.

“Is that what you call me? Sugar?”

“Call you a lot ‘a stuff.”

“Uh, like, like what?”

“Sugar, Pretty Boy, Stevie, Baby, Sweet Thing, Honey. Mac n’ Steve comes to mind.” Steve smiled softly at the last one, his cheeks still warm. “Princess.” Steve opened his mouth, his brows furrowing, the blush spreading down his neck. “No sense in denying how much you like them. Those are tried and true. Thirty years of calling you all that. Plus a few others. But, you know. Those are mostly reserved for the bedroom.”

Steve’s eyes went huge again.

“Fuck. You probably know what I kinks I have better than I do.”

“Oh, we’ve done some exploring in our time.”

Steve bent forward to bury his face in his hands with an Oh, God.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Trust me when I say, you enjoy most of it.”

“Oh, most. That’s great.”

“There’s some trial and error. But we’re good at laughing stuff off, you and me.”

And then Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sat up straight in his chair.

“Wait, you said. When I first asked about the dream, you said, you said married. We got-I mean, we can get married?”

“Yeah. And we like, make out in public and shit. Hold hands everywhere. We’re big saps.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

“So things get, they get better? For people like us?”

“Yeah, they do,” Billy kept his voice soft, felt like sharing this thread of hope should be kept intimate, quiet. And Steve’s face split into a wide grin.

“God, I can’t fucking wait. Just to be, not to be scared all the time. Of everyone finding out this big fucking secret. It just, is.” Steve huffed a laugh. “Can’t believe it. Two guys getting married. Was our wedding nice?”

“We had two. One in the courthouse, one with everybody.”

“Wow. I just can’t believe it-wait, who;s everybody?”

“Your gang of weirdos. Here.”

And Steve lips parted, and he made that cute little face he always does before he cries.

“They all come? Dustin and the Byers and everyone?”

“Robin officiates. Dustin cries really fuckin’ loudly.”

“And they’re all, they’re all fine with it?”

“Yep.”

“God. It’s all, you think it’s too good to be true?”

“Everything I know about you was right. Don’t see a reason why everything else would be wrong.”

“Then, where do we go from here? Like, do we try to follow your memories? Or, forge our own path? Will the fact that we know about this future automatically change it?”

Billy’s heart was doing something funny as Steve wondered aloud to himself about all this.

The fact that he was all in, dead set on having this happy future with Billy, when he didn’t even know Billy.

“Are you sure about this? If we do this? Or some form of it. I mean, I know fucking everything about you. And you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you well enough to see the good in you. I know you well enough to see that under all your big scary toughness you’re caring. And you’re kind. Although you’d probably rather be dead than admit it. And besides. If, in another reality, or in the future, or whatever, I pick you to spend my life with, obviously that means there’s something in you that makes me love you.”

Billy gawked at him.

His face was hot, no doubt bright fucking red.

Because, holy shit was that a lot.

And even Billy, used to Steve’s passionate little tangents after thirty dream-years worth, was taken aback by how quickly Steve was ready to jump into this.

And all of a sudden, Billy wanted nothing more than to reach out to Steve, to pull him close and kiss him until he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Harrington, I’m gonna need you to come kiss me right the fuck now.”

And Steve smiled, his most sunshiney happy smile, and the chair legs scraped along the tiled floor as he got up, sitting carefully on the edge of Billy’s bed.

He leaned over him, cupping Billy’s cheek in his hand, and pressing the softest of sugar kisses to his lips.

Billy let his eyes flutter closed, and he put one hand bandaged on Steve’s lap, wanting to grasp at him, to pull him even closer.

But Steve wrapped his other hand as gently as possible around the thick bandages, pulling away slowly, studying Billy’s face.

“I never asked. Is this always how our first kiss went?”

And Billy tried to search his memory, tried to find the sweet first kiss.”

“I-I don’t remember.”

Steve sat back.

“What?”

“Our first kiss, from the memories. I don’t remember. It’s like, when I think of our first kiss, all I can think of is that one just now. The other one is gone.”

An ache settled in Billy’s chest at the prospect, at losing a perfect memory with Steve. Losing their first kiss.

“So, when we do something, it like, replaces the old memory?”

“I guess.”

“So, we can build new ones then. And like, you won’t have to go through your whole life twice. We can start closer to square one. Memories that’ll be ours, and not ones that I don’t know.”

And that’s true.

For the pain of every memory gone is a brand new one, one that Steve would remember and be a part of too.

“Then I’m not telling you anymore. If we’re gonna build the memories together, we can’t be working off of some, some blueprint. Things need to be ours.”

“Agreed. We’ll make it up as we go.” Steve hadn’t stopped smiling at Billy.

“Is it weird I’m gonna kinda miss seeing you all old? You’re a silver fucking fox.”

“Yes, Bill. That’s fucking weird.” Steve took his hand and pressed a kiss on his bandages, right over where his palm will be. “Just means you’ll have to watch me go through it all again, though.”

“God, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Yeah? That get you going? The thought of me aging?”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. The thought of us aging together.”

“Wow. When you said we’re saps, you really meant it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, sighing as deeply as he could.

“Can it, Harrington. Or I’ll call the nurse and have you escorted out by security.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.” Steve pressed another kiss to his bandaged hand before sliding off the hospital bed, sitting back in this chair, scooting it as close as possible to the bed. He rested his elbows on the edge of Billy’s bed, and set his chin in his hands. “So, California, huh? When do we head out there?”

“Remember, like, twenty seconds ago when I said I wasn’t gonna say any more?”

Steve pushed his bottom lip out, making his eyes go big as he pouted at Billy.

“That doesn’t work on me anymore, Baby.” That was absolutely a lie. It worked on Billy nearly every time. But what’s he gonna do, reveal his weakness to Steve? Absolutely fucking not.

“C’mon, Bill. Just like, the year.”

“Nope. Not saying a damn thing.”

“Please?” Steve pouted some more.

“So odd to hear you begging outside of the bedroom.” Billy grinned with his tongue between his teeth as Steve dropped his little pouty face, his cheeks going red. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Sailing right past pleading and into petulant.

“Fine. I’ll just rot here until you decide to whisk me away to California. Better make it soon or else I may just die of boredom.”

“Jesus, so fucking dramatic. Didn’t we say we’re gonna make our own memories and shit? You can very well ask me to run away with you.”

“Maybe we should like, go on a date first. So I know you’re not a serial killer before I get in a car with you and drive out of state.”

“You’re so weird.” Steve made a snarky face at him. “But you better be planning our first date. I don’t wanna accidentally repeat the other one. Want us to have our own.”

And Billy felt that overwhelming sense of sadness at losing the memories of the other date, the perfect timid experience. Going to the diner and ordering to go, eating while sitting on the hood of Steve’s car overlooking the quarry, talking for hours and hours.

But he’ll get a new memory. One he’ll cherish just as much, maybe even more, knowing that Steve will cherish the memory too.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take out. Maybe just metaphorically speaking, as I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going out.”

“Ha ha, Shithead. Just make it nice. You’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he sighed dramatically.

“If our whole relationship is just you holding me to the impossibly high standard of alternate reality me, then I want out now.”

“Relax. The standard’s not that high.”

Steve made an indignant squawking sound.

Billy just laughed.

“I’m kidding. Just, you know. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble meeting the standard. I fell for you once. I can do it again.”

And Steve’s face went all soft again, and he curled forward to rest his head on Billy’s arm.

“Thirty years. Always thought I’d end up divorced. People tend to get sick of me.”

“Not me. Never got sick of you, never gonna get sick of you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Then you’re stuck with me too.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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stygianflood · 3 years

Text

Like the Shoreline and the Sea (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary- Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1. Ethan’s PoV

Genre, rating, words- Angst, teen, 2k

Open Heart fanfic tropes- birthday, office.

March Challenge Day 13 prompt Someday; April Challenge Day 9 prompt Smell of the Rain

A/N: nor’westers- violent thunderstorms in northern plains of India, before the onslaught of monsoon.

Title inspired by Leonard Cohen’s Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye.

‘This will improve our understanding of adiposity and sarcopenia in this population, help identify thresholds predictive of metabolic risk, and ultimately prevent or ameliorate… ’

Better prevent than ameliorate.

‘...ameliorate the long-term impacts on health and…’

Twenty five years should be long enough.

Hers is a singsong voice, the warm, trilling kind. Mellow sun dances on the frills of her dress. The yellow one.

The man at her side twirls her on the empty kerb. Dips and kisses her. Her laughter is all that is pure and golden.

A child follows them, embarrassed. She bends down to kiss him, and he is furious.

The scene shifts.

The child is on the front porch, eyes set somewhere beyond the wild bergamot bushes.

Tear tracks on pink cheeks mingle and dry with dust from his afternoon’s exploits. Something like a steely resolve troops in his eyes.

Ethan Ramsey has been staring at the same sentence for fifteen minutes now.

Whoever coined the term ‘nostalgia’ from the Homeric nostos and algos was speaking of anguish caused by an inability to return. But they failed to discern the inevitable tethering of reminiscence with habituality.

That is more or less the case with him. Louise Ramsey walked out on her husband, and eleven year old son some twenty five years ago right before his birthday. For a very long time now, home is not about apple crisps or kitchen gardens.

About this time every year, a crevice in his mind he likes to call the amygdala dwells on the same days.

Almost as a ritual.

He is a scientist. A rationalist. And like every year, he reminds himself there is work to do.

Unless there’s a knock at the most unpleasant hour.

He never returns to the article. Never manages a come in. The distraction walks in, messy hair knotted with a pencil. Probably because she has lost another hair tie.

He mustn’t be that aware.

But she talks too much.

‘Dr. Mukherjee.’ He sounds gruff. They’re supposed to be redrawing their boundaries, even if he is the only one making an effort. ‘I thought your shift ended-’

‘Two hours ago.’ Rigours of a sixteen hour shift mark her visage. Her smile is a little too conniving for his comfort. ‘I had work afterwards.’

She starts shuffling papers on his desk, permission be damned. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and manages an exasperated sigh. Since when have interns started walking into his office with… birthday cakes?

‘What do you think you’re- It’s not my-’

‘I heard rumours that Dr. Ramsey had to cancel a date.’ She sounds amused. He does not miss the split second glance she shoots his way before continuing. ‘On his birthday, too. Such a shame.’

He scoffs.

‘No one knows it’s my birthday.’

‘Oh, they do. They’re just too afraid to… ah, invoke the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.’

Of course, she is not one of them. She has absolutely no regard for the immutable drill he has observed for nearly four decades. And why must she, when her sole intent is to swivel the rusty axis of his life.

Ethan has never known the first shower of an Indian monsoon. It is sudden and torrential, just as it is feared and revered. It smells like summer, and mango blossoms.

Ethan has never known one until this year.

‘I’m thirty seven, Rookie,’ He manages weakly.

‘And I would’ve bought the candles accordingly if I knew that.’

The tealights she arranges look so much better, he thinks. The cake is a simple blue and white affair. Not the ones that have more icing than cake, he notes. Not the ones he disapproves of.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Terminator

‘I could’ve whipped something up without sugar,’ She rambles, suddenly starting to blush. ‘Or ordered one. But I only just came to know it’s your birthday. And there wasn’t a lot of-

‘Thank you, Apu.’ Tresses of warmth curl about his chest and the gravel of his voice.

Ethan has avoided birthday cakes for a decade now. Unless it’s Naveen’s birthday, he thinks with a pang.

In his time with Harper or his brief involvements in med-school, no one has ever convinced him to do birthdays. He checks himself. This is just an intern being kind.

But interns aren't kind to Dr. Ramsey, are they.

She assures him the photos are not for social media. They settle on the couch, it’s his first birthday cake in over a decade.

He is glad for an innocuous reason to look at her, laugh at jokes that in any other company would draw his scorn. She is oddly comforting. Unlike most interns who avoid his office at all costs, she moves about it as if she was meant to be here all along.

He must have stalled birthdays worth twenty years only to spend it on a couch with her.

The plates are disposable. It is nothing like the restaurants that come with his status, for there is an endearing simplicity about it.

It almost feels like… home.

He steals occasional glances at her. It has been four agonisingly long days after their return from Miami. And for all his attempts to redraw their boundaries, it has been a non-return of sorts.

Aparna drives him to distraction, flouts each and every one of his rules. Seeks him out in supply closets and muddled dreams. And every time he breaks her heart a little more, he finds himself floundering in his own squalor.

The German counterpart to the English ‘nostalgia’ is ‘sehnsucht’. Like ‘nostalgia’, it has the charm of what has been. But unlike it, it also has the enigma of what has never been. Miami will remain the swansong to an ideal that slipped through Ethan’s fingers.

A surge of anguish ripples through him as he realises all of this is his for the asking, and he will have none of it.

‘It wasn’t a date,’ He blurts out.

He wouldn’t tell her that if he wants her to move on. Not truly.

‘You don’t have to-’

‘She is Declan’s associate in Panacea. She suggested signing the contract with the Diagnostics Team over dinner tonight. So… just business.’

Claudette Wilson is the most promising young face of Panacea, and Ethan needed less than a minute to know why.

Sleek, dark hair styled at her nape played up her high cheekbones. The ruby of her pliant lips, almost risqué for a meeting such as this, always lingered a little longer on the rim of her coffee mug. Even the measured spoons of her laughter came with an all too enticing lilt.

Ethan has met the other type. Vacuous and synthetic. But the steely glint in her eyes came with a weighty intelligence. An unfaltering wit. And when a perfectly manicured hand brushed the contours of his cuff, he knew it was never meant to be just business.

She was irresistible. And so was he.

That afternoon, the bitterness in his mouth had nothing to do with coffee. He learnt he would refuse Claudette even if her pay checks did not come from Panacea.

Aparna falls silent, almost as if discerning in his words everything he left unsaid.

They have run out of jokes and topics for a harmless chat. He is getting terribly comfortable with her again, he realises alarmed. And she is fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

She’s nervous too. He knows. He could define every twitch and turn of those fingers.

Somewhere in their conversation they have edged so close that her knee juts into his thigh. The couch is surprisingly small for two people. Minutes pass, and despite himself, he does not want her to leave.

His fingers rest on her flustered hands, it’s a deep-rooted reflex. Looking down, she weaves his hand in both of her own. Even as the adrenaline surging in his blood incites him to flee, the delirious part of him emerges stronger and more naive.

He thinks she is leaning in. Soaking up the mayhem in his eyes. The slight movement causes wisps of errant hair to slip from the messy bun. There’s new growth around her brows, a faded scar on her forehead. But it’s her eyes that still hold sway over him.

They stroked him with a strange, silent awe on a balcony on the shores of the Atlantic.

She is nothing like interns that hover around him year after year. Sucking up for recommendations. Sometimes more. She can devour him, and just as easily cast him aside without batting an eye.

And yet she is here. Snuggled in his office while her friends call it a night with cheap beer and rowdy escapades.

But she is different tonight. The quiver in her eyes tentative, even wary.

His hand rises of its own accord, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Inadvertently, it brushes her face, lingers a little longer against her cheek.

She caressed his face as the ocean crashed around him. It was like falling from the top of a precipice. Tumbling into the amorphous, a terrifying weightlessness. He waited.

‘It’s getting late.’

She smells like the hospital, muted shades of honeysuckle, and like herself.

The cool breeze hummed a steady rhyme against the tumble of her midnight blue dress. Bits of the moon bounced off the dark curtain of her hair, plunging into her eyes. Ethan had never seen such fathomless eyes.

‘I should go.’ She leans into his palm, eyes fluttering close.

‘You should.’

And then she caught him. It was the hollow of her neck. It was soft. Like the rest of her.

Neither of them move today, silently imploring the other to charge. Or retreat. The battle drum in his chest is a dull ache. Throbbing and inconsolable.

The ridges of her collarbone bore traces of his ruin. Traces she covered every morning and stripped every night, like the rites of a godless liturgy.

His free hand is still laced in hers, the other drawing her face nearer.

Her lips are inches from his own as he draws a languid finger across them. Her warm breath spills on his lips, warring and mingling with his own ragged ones.

Her mouth was stained with wine. Numbing and inciting. He was battered, and bruised. Marooned at her side. And she was warm. So warm.

His hand traced the pummelling of her heart, kneading the softness of her chest. Her tongue jousted with his own as the ocean lapped at its shore. Tireless and persevering.

She was wild. Like her Gangetic nor’westers on a sultry afternoon. He was bewitched. She was doing something good to him.

Suddenly the air around them is ripped by the sound of his phone.

It’s his father.

The two of them recoil to their own spaces, Ethan horrified that he let himself stray so far yet again. Silencing the still erring device, he faces Aparna bracing for another apology.

‘I know.’

Her smile is placid, all traces of vulnerability gone. He is vaguely aware of the gentle pressure on the hand still clasped in her own.

‘Happy Birthday, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She is gone before he can marshal his thoughts.

Ethan flops back into the couch, shivering and alone. The incandescent glow from the solitary lamp drenches the office in a soft, ethereal haze. She might not have been here at all but for the little things she scatters around him every time she forays into his life.

Today she leaves with him a caesura. It thwarts the cadence of a life he has been putting together since Miami.

After a minute, or perhaps a staggering nightmare, when he rises to pack the rest of the cake, he sees it.

She must have forgotten her hair tie was in her pocket after all.

It stares up at him from the floor, the silken, mute witness of his transgression. He gingerly picks it up, and turns it in his hand as though it houses some ancient sorcery.

Laying it on his desk, he considers texting her. But scarcely does he scroll down to her name when he stops himself. And pockets it.

Somewhere in the Atlantic, waves still crash upon the rocks, moistening, but never quite lingering.

The waves are relentless. Someday, the rocks crumble into fine sand.

Thank you for reading this! Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

#open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #choices monthly challenge #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #openheartfanfics #choicesaprilchallenge2021 #cac2021

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css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Almost two months after moving out of Beck’s place, Peter was able to rent an apartment in the same building as Ned and MJ. It was tiny, of course, but pretty inexpensive, compared to other options he found around that area. Besides, with the money he made with Just4Fans over those few weeks, he would be able to afford it comfortably for at least a few months – largely thanks to YKWIM. He still planned on saving up as much as possible, so he put a lot of effort into making his account grow and it was working – by the end of April, he was up to five hundred subscribers.

He didn’t check to see what Beck was doing, he was too afraid to look and see him with his new boyfriend, but he got lots of comments from his old fans, who still followed Beck, telling him that the new boy had nothing on him. Again, he didn’t dare to check, but the ego boost was nice, even if he didn’t really believe them. Also, he was down to crying once every two days instead of every other day, so he was counting that as a win as well.

His apartment was still pretty empty, specially because he spent most of his time downstairs at his friends’ place, but he decorated the bathroom and his room to the best of his ability, since they would be the background of pretty much all his videos and pictures. He also bought some new lingerie sets, a few costumes and sex toys he wasn’t even sure how to use, but he was slowly figuring them out.

Aside from decorating his room and the bathroom, he also bought an armchair and placed it by the window with a couple of pillows. It was a nice spot to spend the afternoon reading or working on his computer. The light in that apartment was great, sunlight streamed right into his living room and warmed it up nicely. As they approached the end of April, the weather was getting better everyday.

Some days, he felt happy. He felt okay with the fact that he was still doing porn and that it wasn’t a terrible crime. Sure, it wasn’t what he had planned to do with his life, but he was young, he would eventually figure things out. For the time being, he needed that gig and he couldn’t beat himself up for it. Also, it wasn’t so bad now that he was only doing solo stuff.

Some other days, though, were just – hard. He remembered all the videos that were still online and he felt awful for the sole reason that they existed. Not so much for the ones he filmed with Beck, he was somewhat okay with those, the guy was his boyfriend after all, they had sex anyway, the only difference was the camera in the room. But the other ones…

When he started filming with other men, it quickly turned into an unpleasant experience for him. He hated every second of it and always ended up feeling guilty, used and disposable at the end of the day. Beck didn’t make it any better with the way he looked at him afterwards as he told him to get in the shower.

He wasn’t entirely sure of the reasons why those videos bothered him so much, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t even him in them. It was like he was watching a different person, he looked at himself and felt completely dissociated from that boy – at the same time, he looked at him and he knew – he knew – exactly what he was feeling when those were shot.

But that was a lot to unpack and he just wasn’t ready for that particular crisis.

So in short, sometimes he was still a little unsure about how long he would be able to keep his Just4Fans account, because even though most days he didn’t feel too weird about it, sometimes it reminded him of things he preferred to forget. But that was fine, he was usually able to work around that. Also, most of his subscribers were great and didn’t make him feel like a cheap whore, so he had that going for him as well.

YKWIM was one of the good ones. They chatted almost daily, and Peter always sent him exclusive pictures and videos just because. He never posted those pictures on his feed once he sent them to him, it was their little secret. In return, he got his own collection of short videos of YKWIM finishing himself off. He didn’t know much about the person behind the videos, he’d taken to calling him daddy because most of his subscribers seemed to like it and YKWIM never complained, so it stuck.

Peter did know he lived in New York – which made him shiver – and that he was a businessman of some kind, but he also always talked about a workshop, so Peter wasn’t sure and he avoided asking personal questions. He worked most of the day and into the night, they usually talked when it was late, always around two in the morning.

He traveled a lot, too, and sometimes sent Peter small clips of his hotel rooms or the view from his balcony. In return, Peter sent him pictures of his messy bedroom and the horrible view from his window as a joke. It was nice talking to him, he always made Peter laugh – and then it often ended with a very satisfying orgasm that put him right to sleep, which was awesome.

Peter estimated YKWIM was older than Beck, but not by too much. He clearly had a fit body, which at first led him to believe he was in his thirties, at most; but he noticed YKWIM sometimes talked about the 80’s like he lived them, so he had to be at least in his forties, but Peter couldn’t be sure. He really wished he would show his face, though, it would be nice to have one to fantasize about. But then again, maybe it would ruin the whole thing.

One afternoon, after Peter spent hours taking pictures, shooting videos and editing them so he could post them over the following week, he got a message from YKWIM. He hurried to check it and was shocked to see that he had sent him yet another tip – forty thousand dollars this time.

“For you to buy pretty things so you can show them off to me.” Said the message that came with the money.

Peter almost dropped his phone when he saw it. It had been only five weeks since his last insane tip, so that made fifty thousand dollars in just a little over a month. For, like, thirty nudes. Who even was that guy?

“Wow, daddy, that’s way too much!” He added a flushed face emoji, for lack of something better to say. He was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed, even if the guy had millions to spend, there was no way just giving someone that amount of money was normal.

“That’s not nearly enough for what you’ve given me, baby.” Peter’s cheeks burned.

“I’m very flattered, but please, I really don’t think I deserve all this.” He was pretty sure he sounded pathetic, but that was how he felt, so. Yeah.

“Oh, but you do. Trust me, you really, really do. You’re worth every penny.” Peter bit his lower lip, a little unsure and still a little shocked.

“At least tell me what you’d like to see from me, please. Do you have any kinks that you’d like me to perform? Don’t be shy.” He asked, even though it always made him nervous to offer that kind of thing. Sometimes people were just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make the weirdest requests.

But, to be fair, he had been talking to YKWIM for over a month, so he somewhat trusted him not to ask for anything too absurd. And then again, the guy had just paid him forty thousand dollars.

“Well, if you insist...” Here it comes, Peter thought, bracing himself. “Red and gold are my favorite colors. I’d love to see you wearing them.” Oh. Not what he was expecting at all.

“Done! Anything else? Come on, there’s gotta be something else.” Again, risky move. But again, forty thousand dollars.

“I’d love to hear you. You’re always so quiet in your videos. If you feel comfortable, I’d love to hear you call my name.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at that request. It sounded… almost sweet? It obviously wasn’t meant like that, it was completely sexual, but out of all the wild things he could have asked for, he wanted to hear Peter call his name.

“What’s your name, daddy?”

“Tony.” Tony. Peter tested the word out on his tongue, saying it out loud once, twice. Tony. It suited the image he had created in his head. Tony.

“I can definitely do that, Tony. Anything else?”

“Buy yourself something pretty and send me a picture wearing it. Nothing sexual. Something you’d wear to a date with me.” Peter’s breath hitched. He supposed it was probably just a weird, rich people kink or something, but his mind went wild anyway. Very, very wild.

“I don’t know what I’d wear to a date with you, daddy. Any advice?”

“I like expensive and beautiful things such as yourself, baby.”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t appreciate being called expensive, like he was a thing to be bought, but he felt weirdly flattered by the answer. He promised YKW – Tony – he would send everything he requested over the next few days, and he was actually excited about the whole thing. And of course he knew that feeling was trouble, there were warning signs flashing like crazy before his eyes, but he ignored them and convinced himself that he was just having fun and he was allowed to have fun if he was going to keep doing porn. He didn’t have to feel miserable and guilty all the fucking time. He could – and should! – take some pleasure from it. He deserved it.

So the following day he asked MJ to go shopping with him, but he still didn’t tell her the whole story, he just said it was for his Just4Fans and she readily agreed to go. They went to Victoria’s Secret and Peter told her what he had in mind.

“So, how’s the job going? You’re doing okay? Not too overwhelmed?” She asked coolly as they searched through the panties section.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s different when I’m in control, you know? Like, I know my limits and I don’t need to count on other people to respect them. Well, most of the time. So it’s cool.”

Some subscribers were a little pushy sometimes, asking for things Peter wasn’t willing to do and then getting really aggressive after being told no. But it didn’t affect him as much as it did when Beck ignored his boundaries, because those pushy subscribers could be easily blocked, whereas with Beck, well. It was a different story.

“Don’t ever feel like you need to push your limits, okay?” Michelle stopped what she was doing to grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at her. “If you ever feel like stopping, for whatever reason, just do it. No matter what, you’ll always have me and Ned, understand? We’re family, we’re here for you, we’d never leave you alone. If you want to stop, we’ll figure something out together, you hear me?” The way she looked into his eyes made him understand that she really meant every single word of it.

Family. He had a family with them.

Peter felt silly tearing up in the middle of Victoria’s Secret, so he pulled her into his arms and hid his face in her neck.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that,” he muttered, as she squeezed him a little tighter, before pushing him away.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all teary-eyed on me, come on, you’ll ruin my reputation.” She looked around, sniffing, then stuck her hands in her pockets. Peter laughed halfheartedly, drying the corner of his eyes. “C’mon, there are panties to be bought.”

They spent a couple of hours searching the store, but in the end he found the perfect set. He bought some other pieces, too, for his feed, people had been asking for lingerie a lot lately, after a slightly weird phase of cat ears and tails. Once they left Victoria’s Secret, Peter was nervous because he had to tell MJ at least part of the truth to get her help with the second part of Tony’s request.

“So, listen,” he started and she turned to him, happily sipping her large coffee as they walked down the street. “I have this subscriber. He’s, like, a rich, old dude who always sends me tips and stuff. Anyway, he gave me some money and asked me to buy something nice and pose for him, but like, not in a sexual way. He wants to see me clothed.” She frowned, staring at him suspiciously. “Um. I was wondering if you could help me with that?”

She was silent for a few seconds, just looking at him with narrowed eyes. He looked away discreetly, trying to avoid her mind-reading skills.

“Should I be worried?” She asked, finally. He shook his head and chuckled nervously, waving a hand dismissively.

“He’s harmless, just some lonely, old dude. So, will you help?” He looked at her expectantly. She was still frowning and definitely knew something was up, but she nodded anyway, to Peter’s relief.

“What do you have in mind?” MJ asked and resumed her stroll down the street, Peter had to jog a little to keep up.

“Something expensive and beautiful,” He quoted Tony, like an idiot, because he honestly had no idea what that meant.

“That’s oddly specific and somehow not helpful at all.” She lifted an eyebrow and looked around the busy street. “How expensive are we talking about?”

“I’m not sure. Very?” He answered nervously, and, yet again, she looked looked like she wanted to rip the truth out of him, but she also knew that was not the way to go with him.

“How much did this guy give you?”

“Um. for – five thousand dollars.” He stuttered. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the actual amount, because it sounded absolutely insane and she would worry unnecessarily.

“Holy shit!? Fuck, why aren’t I doing porn?!” She screeched and Peter hurried to put his hands over her mouth, because at least three people turned around to look at them.

“Don’t even joke about that, you hear me? You have a bright future ahead of you, don’t fuck it up,” he told her seriously and she looked like she wanted to argue just for the sake of being annoying, but something in the way he looked at her must have made her realize he meant it.

“Chill, I’m joking.” She patted his shoulder and looked away. “So. Five thousand dollars? We can work with that.”

He was a little scared of the weird gleam in her eyes, but followed her anyway.

They spent the rest of the afternoon shopping, it was a lot of fun and he even got her a pair of shoes she kept staring longingly at. She was worried they would go over the budget because she wanted him to save some of the money, but he assured her he could afford it. They managed to put together a great outfit that he was very confident about and then called Ned to meet them for dinner in the evening.

Later, they took the subway home and, for a while, he felt like a normal 20-year-old guy – happy, weightless and just a little heartbroken, like everyone was bound to be at some point in life. He was going to be okay, he realized. That thought hit him like a punch in the face and it felt fucking awesome.

He rested his head on Ned’s shoulder with a sigh of relief, feeling the warmth of MJ’s hand on his thigh.

It was around midnight when he got home, which for him was still a little early, he had developed the terrible habit of going to bed well after two in the morning – he blamed Tony, but to be fair, many of his subscribers were mostly active around that time as well. He debated whether or not he should start working on Tony’s requests, he was a little tired from a long day of walking around carrying bags, but also surprisingly eager to show the older man what he got for him.

He took the Victoria’s Secret bag and displayed the new outfit on the bed. It was a simple, but beautiful lingerie set. What Peter loved most about it was the fabric – it was made of deep red satin, smooth and glossy, and it felt simply amazing on the skin.

He decided to try it on, just to make sure it fit properly.

The top was a delicate bralette, two little triangles only big enough to hide his nipples and a little bit of his pecs. It was the perfect size for him, it sat flush with his skin, no unflattering cup gaps. The panties were tiny, Peter wasn’t too sure about those back in the store, he was worried not everything would fit in it. It did, but just barely, but it actually worked in his favor, in his humble opinion. Lastly, he put on the garter belt, which was just a thin piece of fabric that went around his waist, with two straps that hung down to clasp onto two elastic bands that went around his thighs.

Since Tony said red and gold, he also put on a thick, golden choker, just to see how it would look.

Once he was dressed, he went to check in the mirror. He bit his lower lip, running his hand over the fabric that covered his chest. It felt really smooth, and the way it brushed against his nipples sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Tony’s hands on his body. They looked strong enough to hurt, but he imagined they would be gentle with him, as they traced a path from his collarbone to his neck, to wrap themselves around his throat – but not tight enough to choke him, just a promise.

He sighed, as if to check that he could still breath under the pressure, and slowly slid his hands down from his neck, brushing his hard nipples on their way down to the front of the panties – God, it was so smooth...

For some reason, he imagined Tony would be a gentle lover. Maybe it was the way he talked to him, always so charming, all sweetheart and baby, all praise and compliments. Maybe it was the way he never demanded anything, only asked nicely, all please and thank you.

Tony wouldn’t ruin him, like he promised so many times in those last few weeks, he would fuck him long and slow, raspy voice whispering sweet praise in his ear, rough hands holding him down, hips snapping with each unrelenting thrust.

He bit his lips, knees buckling as he felt the front of the panties getting wet, while his leaking cock struggled to get free.

Well, then.

He grabbed his camera from the closet and positioned it on a tripod in front of the bed, just a few feet away, and programmed it to take pictures every five seconds. He sat on the bed, facing the camera, feet still on the floor, and just closed his eyes for a minute, letting a sigh escape his lips as the fantasy from before filled his mind again.

He spread his legs and his fingers reached down to the front of his panties again. His cock felt impossibly hard, straining against the delicate fabric, dark pink tip peeking out of over the top of the tiny underwear. He touched himself slowly, hips rocking lightly to match the pace of his own hand, as he listened to the clicks of the pictures being taken.

He had to force himself to stop, before he lost control, and moved to kneel on the bed, with his side facing the camera, and lowered his chest until it was touching the mattress, letting his back curve in a sinful arch, head turned to the side, staring right at the lens. At Tony. Imagining what he would do if he were there.

He sat back on his heels and turned his back to the camera, spreading his knees, each of his hands grabbing one ass cheek, pulling them apart, only a thin, barely there strip of fabric hiding his nakedness. He looked over his shoulder and waited for the camera to take at least a couple of pictures.

Next, he laid on his back, side facing the camera again, left hand rubbing one nipple over the silky fabric, as the right one reached down the front of the panties, to finally give himself some sort of relief. He let out an almost pained moan as he wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping it slowly, once, twice, but all that teasing was driving him a little insane.

He knew he should probably take a few more pictures, but he also knew wouldn’t last much longer.

He got off the bed and went to the dresser where he kept all of his “work stuff”. He grabbed a tube of lube and a vibrator that was neither too small, nor too big, it was a size Peter was comfortable with.

He switched the camera to video mode, pressed record and resumed his position on the bed, knees on the bed, holding his lower body up, and chest resting on the mattress. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, pushed the panties a little to the side and circled his hole gently, slowly, because that was how he imagined Tony would do it. Those big, rough hands would have grabbed him by the hips, put him in that exact position, before teasing him mercilessly.

He moaned quietly and closed his eyes, rubbing slow circles around his rim, pressing a little against his entrance, but not hard enough to breach it. He felt his cock pulsing, begging for attention, but he didn’t dare to touch it, not yet.

“Tony, please...” He whined, pushing his hips back against his own hand, he was so lost in his fantasy he almost forgot he didn’t need to beg. Almost. “I need you...”

Gently, he started pushing one finger inside, knuckle by knuckle, he was so aroused he barely felt the burn, just delicious pressure that made his eyes roll to the back of his head. He started fucking himself on his finger, feeling the muscles around it slowly make way.

“’Been thinking about you, Tony…” he rasped out, hips pushing back against his hand. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout you...” When he felt loose enough, he pushed another finger inside, the stretch becoming a little more noticeable as he slowly scissored himself open. He got on all fours and turned his back to the camera to give Tony a better view, all spread out for him, and kept fucking himself, picking up the pace once just those two fingers weren’t enough. “Fuck, daddy, need you so bad...”

He eased the fingers out of himself, sighing at the loss, and reached for the vibrator that was sitting on the bed and turned to face the camera again. He knelt on the bed and, with one hand, he propped the vibrator up on the mattress, holding it down from behind him, as with the other hand he guided its tip to his already abused hole.

He flicked the switch and it vibrated to life, nudging against his hole before finally slipping in. Peter’s breath hitched at the intrusion, feeling the delicious burn on his lower back, as he moved his hips up and down slowly, trying to push more of it inside with each painful thrust.

“Fuck me, Tony,” he begged, as his free hand finally reached for his neglected cock, pumping it hard and fast, matching the maddening pace his hips set. He lost all sense of rhythm when he felt the tip of the vibrator finally – finally – reach his prostate and he pushed it even further in, until the pressure against the bundle of nerves became too much and he exploded in one of the best orgasms he had had in a long, long time. “Oh, f-fuck!” His vision went dark for a second as he let himself fall back on the bed, wasted.

He spent almost ten minutes just lying there, trying to catch his breath and regain consciousness. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that, he was boneless, floaty, completely satisfied. It was honestly the best he felt in months.

When his legs stopped shaking, he got up and headed straight to the shower, still feeling a little dizzy and weak, but he wasn’t complaining.

Once he was finished, he debated whether he should just go to bed or send Tony what he had, but with the way he was feeling, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so easily. So decided to send at least the pictures right away, even though it was nearing 3AM. Peter knew Tony was probably up, the man did say that he was an insomniac and that he sometimes went days without any real sleep, so it wasn’t a surprise when he answered just a few minutes after Peter sent them.

“Holy fuck, Peter!!” Peter bit his lower lip, burying his face in the pillow to hide his blush, even though he was alone in his room.“What the fuck, baby, it’s three in the morning, are you trying to fucking kill me?!”

“So you like them?” He asked with feigned innocence.

“I fucking love them, you little tease, these are hands down my favorites yet. I swear I’m gonna have them framed and hung in my workshop and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking days just writing odes to you.” Peter giggled into the pillow, turning on his side to get more comfortable on the bed.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” He joked lightly, blushing again, which was stupid, but he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck no! You’re something else, kitten, and you don’t even know it.” Peter suppressed a smile, biting his lower lip.

“Are you touching yourself right now, daddy?”

“To be honest, I’m so fucking hard I think I’m gonna come instantly if I even brush my fingers on my cock. I’m literally just staring at the pictures right now and worrying I’m gonna come untouched just from that.” Peter laid on his stomach and bit the pillow, gently rocking his hips against the bed.

“That’s so hot. Can I see it?”

Seconds later, there was a video in the chat. He played it immediately and, sure enough, Tony wasn’t kidding. His cock was rock hard, throbbing, the head was an angry purple, already glistening with pre-cum. Tony was just holding it at the base, not daring to touch it, and the whole thing almost made Peter hard again, but he was really exhausted.

“Fuck, daddy, I really wish I could help you with that.”

“Oh, you don’t even know what I wish.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Peter figured he had gone to sleep, but then his phone beeped, alerting him to another message from him. It was, of course, a picture of Tony’s spent cock, resting against his belly, which was covered in come, so much of it Peter’s mouth watered.

“Was it good, daddy?”

“The best, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m gonna sleep like a baby today.” Peter chuckled. Tony always said that was high praise coming from someone who hardly ever slept and the younger man took his word for it.

“Goodnight, Tony. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it, Pete.”

He knew he was fucked the second he tried to suppress a small smile, but couldn’t.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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jeonjeonggukenergy · 4 years

Text

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

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