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jihyuncompass · 3 years

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A Little More Interesting

Welcome to Kinktober 2021! While this is my first time participating I’m very exited to give you some treats and spice to add to your Starbucks drink and Halloween candy. Now. Without any further ado, welcome to the first fic of the month.

Kinktober 2021. Week One

Marius x MC

Word Count: 4.3k

NSFW. Only read if 18+

Tags Below the Cut

Warnings/Tags: Collaring, Vaginal Fingering, Public/Semi-Public, Toys

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“I have a couple things for you,” Marius said after pulling into a parking spot. You glanced up from your phone, Marius’s eyes were on you. A glint in his eye that made it clear that he had something on his mind. Setting your phone aside, your attention went to him. Noticing your attention on him he smiled then reached for the bag in the backseat.

He handed the bag over to you, dropping it into your lap. After giving him another odd look you reached back into the bag to find it’s contents.

Marius’s gaze was locked on you as you pulled out what looked to be a jewelry box, too big for a ring but probably about the size of a necklace. Holding the box in your hand your gaze went back to Marius. His brow was arched, like he was waiting to see your reaction. Feeling around the box you started to pull up on the top.

“Wait.” Marius said, his hand resting on the top of the box. “Before you open it.” Your hands stopped, eyes returning to him. “We talked about this not too long ago, but if you don’t want it. You don’t have to accept it.”

His words only grew your curiosity, opening the jewelry box. Inside lay what a t first looked like a typical necklace. A simple silver chain with a ring in the center. Within the ring, a small purple gem. Simple, yet elegant. The realization didn’t hit until you lifted the piece out of the box, noticing the clasp on the end. Two small rings connected by what looked to be a small lock.

“You don’t have to wear it.” Marius said. Any previous show of confidence had fallen away. “If you don’t want to or you feel you’re not ready.”

Holding it in your hands you considered it, knowing Marius it was likely custom made. Designed for you specifically by him. You could just imagine Marius, choosing the details on the silver chain, picking the perfect gem to match the color of his eyes. The lock on the clasp, small but by looks of it rather strong.

“You have the key for it?” You asked him. Seemingly stunned by your sudden question Marius nodded quickly but took an extra second to find his voice.

“I do.” Marius reached under his shirt, pulling out a similar silver chain to the one in your hand. At the end, a small silver key.

You didn’t require much more time to consider it. Taking another moment to admire it, you handed it to Marius. Who was watching you intently.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He asked.

“Yes.” You said, putting on a smile to show your honesty. “I trust you Marius, and I want this.”

Marius took the key around his neck and quickly unlocked the tiny lock at the clasp. Adjusting in the seat you let your back face him. Moments later his hands put the subtle collar around your neck. Closing your eyes you focused in on the feeling of the lock clicking closed. The light but present pressure where the collar rested against your neck. Marius’s hands rested on your shoulders. Urging you to turn.

“Well?” You asked him after you turned. At first he went speechless, ears turning red and voice lost. Then after a moment, when he’d been able to fully take you in, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed and darkend, his lips pulled into a smirk. Playful yet mischievous.

His fingers trailed from your shoulder to your neck, his fingers running over the silver chain. Leaning close to whisper. “It’s perfect.” His hand stopped at your jawline, pulling you into a kiss, his warm lips taking your’s, sending a warm feeling down into your abdomen. Breaking away from the kiss he leaned in, whispering against the shell of your ear. “It’s also the perfect reminder. That you’re mine.”

“I am yours.” You whispered back, holding his face in your hands. “Always will be.”

Marius smiled, his gaze full of warmth and adoration as he looked at you. Letting himself watch you for a moment longer he pulled away just the slightest bit.

“There’s one more thing in the bag.” He said, motioning to the bag still resting in your lap. Letting your hands drop from his face you reached in for the second item, a larger box than the last one.

Your mouth parted in a brief shock. Your face instantly flushed bright red.

“These events are always so boring.” Marius said. “I thought this might make it a little more interesting.”

Interesting was one word for it you thought as you held the box for a remote controlled vibrator. You’d seen these online and in other things but never in person, you turned the box over in your hands. The flush on your face was growing worse by the moment.

“Well?” Marius asked.

“You really think this is a good idea?” You questioned.

Marius smirked. “Thought it could make the night a little more interesting, that’s all.” Marius winked, looking away from him you looked at the box in your hand. The idea seemed outrageous, it wasn’t appropriate and it could cause trouble for the both of you.

But also, you couldn’t ignore the heat growing in your lower abdomen, and the excitement sparking through your nerves. Considering the box you pulled out the device, thumb brushing over the soft silicone outside.

Marius leaned in, the smirk briefly disappearing from his face. “We don’t have to.” Glancing between Marius and the toy you weighed your options.

“We can use our safe word?” You asked.

“Of course.” Marius responded in complete seriousness. “Still paintbrush, right?” You nodded.

Taking a breath of courage you fully removed the toy from its packaging, turning it around in your hand to get a feel for it. “Did you happen to bring any lube with you?”

“Dammit.” Marius cursed. “I knew I forgot something.” He ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, messing up some of the strands. He hastily glanced around the car, hoping maybe he could find something suitable.

“It’s okay.” You said, stopping his frantic search. “I can just do it the traditional way.”

“Traditional way?” Marius asked. Before you answered you’d set the toy on the console, your hand reaching between your legs, pushing aside your clothes to get where you wanted to be. “Oh.” Marius said. “That way.”

You smirked to yourself as your finger ran against your slit, already growing wet from just your thoughts alone. Your finger circled your clit, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, your finger rubbed on the sensitive nub quickly growing swollen by the sensation.

As your fingers moved downwards, towards your core already beginning to ache you felt Marius’s eyes on you. Throwing him a glance you happily took in his flustered face while he watched you,

“What’s that look for?” You cooed. “Do you want to help?”

He cleared his throat, then nodded. Trying to keep his cool as he shifted his position. You pulled your own hand away as his hand traveled down your thigh to your core. Leaning back in the seat you readjusted your hips to get a better angle for him.

Your eyes slipped closed as his fingers ran over your slit, collecting the wetness as he moved. Biting your lip you attempted to savor the feeling as he started down towards your entrance. Careful to use the fingers without a copious amount of rings he let one finger slip in, then a second not long after.

Marius wasted no time, his fingers already pumping in and out of you as his thumb made quick circles around your clit. You didn’t hesitate to let moans fall past your lips, each sound only making Marius go faster.

“Marius-” You said, forcing the name past your lips.

“Hm?” Marius answered.

“I think-” You paused to let another wave of pleasure pass. “I think I’m ready for it.” Marius slowed his hand, letting you reach for the toy you left on the console.

He took the toy from you, using his other hand to angle it while his other hand pulled out of you. Using the remaining arousal coating his fingers to smear it on the tip. He looked back to your face, checking your expression.

You nodded at him, giving him the confirmation he needed for him to push the toy past your folds and inside you. Swallowing thickly you groaned from the pleasant stretch, taking some moments to adjust to the new feeling.

“How’s that?” Marius asked, hand resting on your upper thigh.

“It’s good.” You readjusted your clothing, sitting up straight. Heavily aware of the toy now fully inside you as you sat in the seat of the car. Looking in the mirror you fixed your hair and straightened out your clothes.

Marius put the vibrator box back into the bag, tossing it back into the backseat. Straightening himself out as you did. The two of you took a moment to collect yourselves before exchanging a glance.

“Ready to go in?” Marius asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tonight’s event wasn’t anything special. Especially not in comparison to some of the other events you’d attended with Marius in the past. As always the drinks were overflowing and the food while of good quality not bountiful in quantity. Following your partner you made the rounds to the copious amounts of well dressed business associates Marius knew.

“Oh my that’s such a beautiful choker you’re wearing.” One woman said to you, motioning to the accessory on your neck. In the corner of your eye you noticed how Marius smirked to you. “Where’d you get it?”

You were about to speak when Marius spoke first. “It’s custom made.” He explained, focused on the woman speaking you missed Marius’s hand slipping into his pocket.

“Well it’s absolutely beautiful.” She said to you, then turned to Marius. “I must get the name of your jeweler.”

The sudden jolt of the toy nearly made you gasp, clearing your throat to avoid making any other sounds. Inside you the toy vibrated aggressively against your walls. Shooting Marius a look, you cleared your throat again.

“I’m sorry I think I need a drink.” You apologized. “Please excuse me.” Stepping away from the conversation you bit your lip, the vibrations grew slowly in intensity as you walked towards one of the servers carrying a tray of glasses of wine.

While you walked back towards Marius the vibrations slowed to a stop. Marius’s hand leaving his pocket to shake someone’s hand. Breathing a sigh of relief you rejoined him, although the mischievous glint in his eye remained.

“Doing okay? You look a little red.” Marius teased after the others had walked away. Pressing your lips into a thin line you ignored him, even as he took your hand in his, and his other hand slipped back into his pocket.

You braced yourself, waiting for him to start the vibrator again. However he just winked at you, leading you towards another small gathering of people. Putting on his business smile as he approached.

These conversations were usually nothing you found particularly interesting, this one included. You listened as Marius talked about business with one of the older men. Discussing PAX’s latest ventures and asking about one another’s families. You sipped at your wine while they spoke. Usually being just the littlest bit tipsy during times like this made the small talk bearable to get through.

“And what about you?” The man Marius had been speaking to asked you. “What do you do for work?”

“Oh I’m-” Your sentence was cut off by the return of the vibrations. You collected yourself after a moment, pushing through the increasing setting of the toy.

“Are you feeling alright?” The man asked. “You look a bit overheated.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You said, digging your nails into your hand to keep your composure. “It’s a bit warm. That’s all.”

You carried on with your conversation, fighting the pleasure very quickly spreading through your boy as you talked. Marius was enjoying this, that you could easily tell. His expression showed how obviously he was undressing you with his eyes, and between the toy inside you and the pressure of the collar around your neck you were starting to find it difficult to keep your composure.

The night continued this way, with Marius routinely turning the toy on and off as he pleased. With each cycle of it making it harder and harder for you to keep control of yourself. You already could tell your face was red, your knees getting shaky from how he’d started to get you close before turning it off again.

After a while you’d convinced Marius to sit down with you at one of the tables in the venue. Marius held your hand as you watched others flutter around one another in conversation. All the same typical business chatter, what everyone was doing, new business plans or partnerships, maybe a mention of a spouse or children.

“Do you want more to drink?” Marius asked, motioning to one of the servers. “I could get you another glass.”

You shook your head, you’d already drunk enough to be pleasantly buzzed, but considering your current state and the way Marius was still looking at you, getting any more intoxicated would probably be a bad move.

“I didn’t expect to see you both here.” A voice said from beside you. Turning your head, your mouth fell open as Artem walked up to the two of you.

“Oh hey.” Marius said. His tone gave away a slight annoyance. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I had a client invite me along. Figured I’d accept the offer.” Artem said. He smiled at you softly. “It’s good to see you. I hope you’re enjoying yourself?”

You matched his smile. “I am. Are you?” You asked. Artem pulled up a chair to sit next to you, your eyes on him instead of Marius you didn’t think much about the way he was looking at the two of you.

“I’m usually not one for events like this, but it’s been pretty nice so far.” Artem said, nursing a glass of wine in his hand. You nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m not really a huge fan of these either. The food and drinks definitely make up for it though.” You said.

“Based on what I’ve had here, I think I’m inclined to agree with you.”

You were about to speak further when your voice was caught in your throat. Marius had

turned the toy on again. This time at a higher speed than he had ever set before. Pressing your lips together in a fine line you attempted to breathe through the waves of pleasure pulsing through your body. If you looked uncomfortable at least Artem didn’t seem to notice as he carried on with the conversation.

“How long are you both planning on staying?” Artem asked, sipping on his wine.

“I’m not sure.” You said, crossing your legs to try and keep the intensity controlled the best you can. “How long are you staying?”

“Not for long I hope.” Artem said. “I have some work I want to work on tonight.” You nodded, your nails digging into your knee as Marius turned up the vibrations again. Biting your cheek as you fought back the sounds you wanted to make, keeping yourself as still as possible so your knees didn’t shake.

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, voice cracking. “Especially with that case we just got.” You said, having to force yourself to say every word while the intense pressure in your abdomen grew bigger and bigger, heart beating faster, and face getting more hot by the word. “I did look at the case files earlier but-” You took a breath to catch yourself. “I didn’t get a chance to spend much time with it.”

Artem set his wine glass on the table. “If you’d like we could meet and go over the details of the case. There is a lot to keep track of.”

“Oh that would be great-” The sudden increase in the speed of the toy made you stop, covering your face with your hand. Feigning a coughing fit to distract from how your whole body was shaking and how it was becoming impossible to keep yourself together anymore. You were getting so close, so close so-

“Do you need something to drink?” Artem asked, leaning close to try and see your face, you coughed harder to keep your face hidden, nodding frantically.

Just as Artem stepped away to find something for you to drink you shot Marius a look, he was smirking clearly proud of himself and the mess he was making you.

“Awful coughing fit you’re having there.” Marius teased.

You squeezed his thigh. “Paintbrush.” You said. Within a second the toy was off, and Marius took his hand out of his pocket. His smirk disappeared, replaced with concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked, moving closer.

You nodded after a second. Marius rubbing your back. “It was just too much right now.” You whispered. Marius nodded, understanding. “Thank you for stopping.”

“Of course.” Marius said. Artem returned, a glass of water in his hand. Quickly handing it off to you. After several long sips you set the glass down, giving yourself time to collect yourself.

“Better?” Artem asked, concern written all over his face.

“Yes, much better.” You answered, sitting up straight. “Thank you.” You sipped at the water, feeling the flush in your face going down. Marius’s hand remained on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles.

After finishing the glass Artem brought you glanced back at Marius. He’d been watching the rest of the party but quickly turned back towards you.

“Are you wanting to go?” Marius asked you, voice low and soft.

“I think so.” You said, finally gaining your strength back. “Besides, we have something to do.” You smirked at him, his face completely changing as he realized what you were thinking.

“Oh that’s right.” He said. “We did have something to do.”

You both rose from your seats, even with the toy off your legs were still shaking, your whole body struggling to keep upright. “I’m sorry to leave just after running into you.” You said to Artem.

“It’s alright, I’ll probably leave soon myself.” Artem stood to match you both. “Get home safe. Both of you.”

After saying a proper goodbye, you both hurried out of the venue. Holding tight to Marius’s hand as you hurried back to the parking lot.

The second Marius’s car came into view you headed straight for the backseat, hastily opening the door and pulling Marius inside with you.

“What-” You cut Marius off by kissing him. Pushing him against the seats as you moved to straddle his hips. His hands went immediately to rest on your hips, pulling you closer, Your hands held his jaw. Forcing him to stay close.

You only pulled away when you needed to breathe, Marius staring at you a bit stunned.

“You’re eager.” He said, finding his voice. You frowned, leaning in close.

“And who’s fault is that?” You shot back, kissing him again. Your lips moved against his, pulling him in further and deeper. Marius’s hands moved downwards until he was holding your ass, digging his fingers in as you groaned.

Breaking away from his lips you moved to press kisses along his jawline and his neck. Seeking that sweet spot you knew he liked you to pay attention to. As you did so your hands moved to his waist, searching for his pocket where he kept his phone.

“Mmn..” Marius moaned as you found the sweet spot, although not unaware of your hand as if reached into his pocket. “Whatcha looking for babe?” He asked, pulling your head away from his neck.

“You know what I’m looking for Marius.” You went back to reaching into his pocket until Marius’s hand around your wrist stopped you. His mischievous look returned, sending a twinge of excitement straight to your core.

“You want more?” He whispered into your ear.

“Yes.” Marius’s fingers traveled towards your neck, fingers brushing against the collar still locked tightly around your neck. “Please Marius.” You asked.

Marius hummed, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll turn it on. But.” He started. “We’re doing this my way.”

Before you could even answer Marius pulled you off of him, readjusting so his back was against the car door, legs laying across the seats.

“Come here baby.” Marius said, leading for you to lay with your back against his front. You gave him a strange look over your shoulder while you laid against him. His arm around your waist to keep you in place.

You watched as Marius opened the app he’d been using before. Waiting not-so patiently as he slowly started to turn it back up again.

A loud sigh of relief escaped you as the vibrator started, watching as Marius slowly turned it up.

“Faster.” You whispered. “Please make it go faster.” Marius shook his head as pressed a kiss to your temple. Savoring every moment as you whined against him. “Marius, please.”

After another long agonizing moment Marius obliged, turning up the intensity just the smallest amount. Enough for the sensations to be pleasant, but not enough to satisfy you. You needed more than that.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Marius said. “All bothered and begging.” The hand around your waist moved up, cupping your breast. You groaned, head falling back against his shoulder. Closing your eyes you press your legs together, hoping to maybe get more sensation than the cruelly low setting Marius had the toy at.

Marius used the hand with his phone to part your legs. “Let’s not do that, remember I’m the one in charge right now.” You whined, your eyes squeezed shut, you were going to go crazy like this.

“Please turn it up more. Please.” You begged. “Please.”

Marius considered you for a moment, your face was getting flushed already, you looked so perfect like this, like putty in his hands. If he really wanted to he could keep you like this for hours, but you also looked so beautiful, and he struggled to refuse you.

He turned up the speed, leaving you gasping. It was high enough now that you couldn’t stop the moans from leaving your lips. Your hips ground down against Marius below you, seeking something, anything more to make you feel good. Behind you Marius groaned, turning up the toy even higher without another thought.

“Marius oh god-” You cried out. “It’s- ugh-” The waves of pleasure were getting more intense, rising in pressure as you felt it start to swell in your abdomen. You weren’t going to last, you were so close. Just a little bit more is all you would need.

“Are you close?” Marius asked.

“Y-yes!” You said, your hand gripping his wrist so tightly you thought you might break it. “Please I’m so close I’m-”

You cried out loudly as Marius turned down the vibrator, returning to a setting just barely enough to feel.

“Why?” You asked. “Marius-”

“You’re mine right?” He said. His hand moved from your breast to your neck, fingers tracing the bottom of your collar.

“Marius.” You looked at him over your shoulder. He stared into your eyes, he looked like he was seeking something in you. Something that you’d only seen when he needed your reassurance. “Of course I’m yours. I’m only yours.”

“Good.”He whispered. Marius kissed you, pulling you closer against him. With your eyes closed you were hardly focused on anything as with his one hand Marius turned the vibrator up again. You gasped into the kiss, pulling away a moment later to moan and looking back at his phone. Slowly he was turning it up, approaching the level it’d been at during the party. The point where you hadn’t been able to keep yourself collected anymore.

Now you didn’t hesitate to moan. You couldn’t even care if people could hear you outside this car, right now you just needed to feel good. That’s it.

Your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling, the white hot pressure that was at its breaking point inside you. Just a little more, just another moment, just another-

One last boost in the speed was all it took. You screamed in pure pleasure as your back arched, your entire body tensing as the pleasure exploded inside you. Your body shook, eyes shut and voice going hoarse from how loudly you’d cried.

Marius turned the vibrator off a final time as you slumped against him, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A layer of sweat coating your skin, as your hands shook. Your eyes stayed closed, even while Marius pulled aside your clothes to remove the toy, covered in your slick. He smiled at the sight. Your eyes opened just enough to see it, before shutting again.

Setting the toy aside Marius wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck and jaw. “You did so good, baby. I love you.” Marius whispered. You smiled, too exhausted to say anything.

You laid there like that for a long while, Marius pressing kisses wherever he could reach, your eyes closed while you gathered your strength again.

“Let’s go home.” You said. “I think you deserve a little something tonight too.”

Marius smiled. “Are you sure? I bet you’re exhausted.”

“I’m sure.” You said, sitting up fully. Marius sat up with you, looking at you with those adoring eyes you were completely obsessed with.

Marius’s hand brushed against the collar on your neck. “Do you want to keep this on? I can take it off if you want?”

You shook your head. Taking his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “No, I like it. I want to keep it on.”

Happily, Marius accepted your answer. Helping you out of the back and into the passenger seat. Ready to go home for the rest of the night.

#tears of themis #tot #mihoyo #marius von hagen #lu jinghe #marius x reader #lu jinghe x reader #do not read if a minor #this one isn't my favorite marius fic ive done but #i had a deadline to meet #i know i said it'll be up later #but i got to class early and could do some quick formatting before class started

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meltwonu · 4 years

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 7]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, fingering, daddy!kink, dirty talk, ‘cuz you can touch touch me~ 😏 ur gonna need to imagine headband/bandana wearing left&right cheol for this cuz that’s the fantasy i was imagining for this chapter the entire time i was writing it hehe 🍒 quick apologies to anyone who thinks this is moving a little slow 😩 I literally don’t know how to shut up and I end up writing too much LMAO and as always, thank you for the continued interest! Have a great weekend bbys! 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - ?

dom.cheol has donated $400

therealchan99: yea this is about right on course

dom.cheol: what, did u miss me? 😏

gentleman_josh95: loosely

chwenon: more like the obscenely large donations were missing lolol

You jokingly roll your eyes, exhaling deeply as you push your toys off to the side of the bed. You’d just finished your Saturday show without a hitch, albeit feeling a little lonely. “Aww, c’mon you guys! Don’t tease~” Glancing around the room, it did feel a little odd to you now that Seungcheol wasn’t there but he had called earlier in the day and told you that it might’ve been better if he stayed back.

In truth, you understood exactly how he felt.

Part of you was ready to throw all caution out of the window when it came to Seungcheol and he felt it too. But at the same time, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy and that there were still things that the two of you needed to discuss before deep diving into intimacy, especially when it came to powerplay.

kitty_junjun: hey dont take this in a weird way but like

kitty_junjun: i feel like i saw u earlier today…

universe_WZ: ooo i never thought abt that before

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

xcaliburDK: have ppl recognized u irl before? :o

dom.cheol: i feel like i might’ve seen u irl before too…

Your cheeks bloom a hot pink; a nervous giggle on your lips. “Oh! I mean, yeah, there’s been a handful of times. I’ll wear wigs out sometimes though. Can’t have people calling me out in a grocery store, y’know?”

kitty_junjun: wait so maybe i did see u? I dont wanna give out locations tho…

“Maybe! I’m still out on my little weekend trip and I was out and about earlier~ if you see me next time, don’t hesitate to say hi! I promise I don’t bite~” You pause, leaning closer into the webcam as you wink.

“Unless you want me to~”

You start running a bath right after you end your show, stretching and turning on some music as you start to unwind. Thankfully you didn’t have a tiring show today, so you decided to take the rest of the night to pamper yourself in preparation for your day with Seungcheol.

Biting your lip, you pick up your phone, already seeing a multitude of messages from Seungcheol on your lockscreen.

cheollie ✨: don’t forget ur glass of water!

cheollie ✨: also don’t forget i’m picking you up at 9:30am

cheollie ✨: hope ur ready to spend all day at the roller rink with me baby

You can’t help but grin, already excited to see how Seungcheol spent his day at work. Typing a response, you quickly hit send before setting your phone down onto the nightstand and making your way to the bathroom.

‘I can’t wait! I’m so excited~ u promised me free skates and free food so don’t forget!!’

It’s exactly 9:29AM when Seungcheol messages you that he’s downstairs.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down your dress and hair and grabbing your bag before you rush down to meet Seungcheol.

There’s a mild feeling of nervousness that pours over you, but you quickly shake it off once you see his blue headed figure standing outside of the lobby.

“‘Cheollie!”

He turns around to face you just as you stop in your tracks; gasping when you see the cute way he’s styled his hair for today. “Whoa… wow, uh, j-just.. Wow. You look great in bandanas...”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes forming crescents. “I don’t usually work the weekends so I thought I’d spice it up a little. Guess it looks good?” You can only nod shakily, mentally cursing yourself when you feel the arousal already pooling inside your body. He winks at you once, opening the passenger’s side door as you slide into his car.

“Hope you’re ready to have a boring day at the roller rink with me.” He gives you a tight lipped smile, shutting your door before he rounds the car to get in on the driver’s side.

“I’m telling you, it’s not going to be… y’know, anything crazy.”

“Who says it has to be! I’m excited to see where you work and anyway you promised!” You tease, poking him in the arm as he starts the car. “I know, I know… I just---I don’t want you to be disappointed. I bet you thought I was some rich old hotshot before, huh?” Seungcheol shoots you a glance, smiling gently.

“Mmm.. not really.”

“No? You didn’t think I was some lonely CEO with loads of money with a thing for camgirls?”

You laugh at his response, placing your hand over his on the gear shift.

“Nah, if there’s anything I thought about you, it was that you were way too nice to be on some camming website.”

The two of you have idle conversation as Seungcheol takes his time to drive to the roller rink. In all honesty, he was a little nervous himself, although he’d never say it to your face.

“Oh my god, is that it?! It’s so cute!”

He parks close to the entrance, turning the car off as he jogs over to your side to help you out. “‘Cheol, you know you don’t have to be so sweet~” You pout, latching onto his arm as he locks the car.

“Oh but I do. You deserve to be spoiled once in a while!”

A blush coats your cheeks yet again, shy eyes fixated on the floor as he walks you towards the entrance. “Yeah, but all you ever do is spoil me… That sybian was no joke and my god, Seungcheol, the price! I almost had half a mind to return it…” You end in a mumble. Seungcheol laughs, opening the door for you as you unlatch from his arm and step in first.

“You’re worth spoiling. Now stop worrying, okay? I promise I’m not up to anything illegal in order to afford your gifts.” Giggling, you lean up to kiss him on the cheek, nodding firmly.

“Fiiiiine, I trust you, y’know?”

“I know, baby. I trust you too, now let’s go meet my best friend who’s going to play butler for you today.”

He leads you over to the concession stand where an equally tall yet bored male stands. “Hey, Jeongguk!” The said male looks up from his phone, eyebrow quirking when the two of you walk up. “Uh, hey Seungcheol-hyung…” Seungcheol feels a weird tenseness fall over the three of you, clearing his throat to get Jeongguk’s attention when he finds the younger male staring.

“Um, this is my friend. She’s---uh, she’s gonna be hanging out here for the rest of the day. I promised her that you’d give her free food, so uh, just--just let me know how much it is so I can tell Namjoon to take it out of my paycheck.” Jeongguk grins, a sly look in his eyes when he finally meets Seungcheol’s concerned eyes.

“Sure! Can I talk to you over there? It’s about our paychecks actually.” Jeongguk turns to you, leaning over the counter. “Sorry, employee only info, ch--uuuuuh, you know the deal.”

“Yeah, of course!”

Jeongguk points off to the side, gesturing to Seungcheol who follows suit.

The younger male makes sure they’re a safe distance away, watching as you pluck your phone out of your purse before he starts talking in harsh whispers. “What the fuck, dude!? You’re---no, you’re not fucking Cherry. She doesn’t have a boyfriend so what the fuck?”

The blood drains from Seungcheol’s face; the feeling in his fingers going numb as his throat goes dry. “Wuh--what? What are you---what are you talking about?” Jeongguk scoffs, eyes rolling jokingly.

“So, hyung, how do you know her?”

“You’re asking me?! How do you know her!?” Seungcheol’s eye twitches just as Jeongguk shoots him an incredulous look, arms crossed in mock annoyance. “I’m a horny boy, what can I say.”

“Please do not ever use those words to describe yourself again.”

The younger male stands in silence, nodding in thought.

“Fuck, wow, I should’ve noticed. All those extra shifts you were taking, the reason why you could never come hang… You don’t like working here as much as Yoongi-hyung but you--holy---holy shit, wait--you… you can’t be…”

Fuck, here it comes.

“You’re fucking ‘dom.cheol’ aren’t you? You’re the one always leaving her insane fuckin’ donations all the time… and the gifts.. Oh my god. The ‘cheol’ was from Seungcheol, I should’ve known...”

Seungcheol dies a million deaths inside his head; the ringing in his ears becoming unbearable while Jeongguk stares at him in mild disbelief. “It all clocks out, holy fuck. No wonder you were so fucking eager to pick up so many extra shifts…” Seungcheol’s mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure what to say.

“I mean, fuck hyung, I--I’m kind of impressed but wow. You think you know a guy, huh?” Jeongguk laughs, patting the older male on the shoulder. “She’s only one of the hottest camgirls out there right now. You’re a lucky man, hyung.”

A weird possessiveness washes over Seungcheol, hands gently balling up into fists at his side. “Okay, well, she… she’s just here to chill, alright? Don’t do anything weird. And most of all, don’t say anything weird either.” The younger male nods, already walking back to where you were standing.

“Hey, sorry, hyung’s paycheck is gonna be pretty sad next week and I had to let him down gently. Anyway, I’m Jeongguk. You are?”

You give him a fake name; shaking his hand over the counter as he grins at you.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You spend the first two hours on the floor skating; catching Seungcheol’s eyes on you from time to time as he sits nearby cleaning skates. The place seemed pretty empty, which was something that Seungcheol was immensely glad for.

Eventually you skate off out of the rink, making your way to Seungcheol who smiles at you when you come sit next to him. “Told you. Bored already, huh?” The two of you share a laugh, watching as the few other people continue to skate around the rink.

“I mean… it’s different! Right about now I’d usually be six episodes into a new series or something… It’s nice to be somewhere else and doing something different.”

He nods in return, slightly pouting when he turns to face you. “I hate that you have to go home tonight.” You mirror his sentiments, lips quirking into a sad smile.

“I know… I don’t wanna go home…”

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting over to Jeongguk. “Hey, maybe we can bail a little early. This place is pretty dead anyway, and I--I can have Jeongguk clock me out when he leaves. My shift is supposed to end at 3PM and it’s noon now so… We can leave in a hour? Maybe get a late lunch?”

“Seungcheol… I don’t want you to get in trouble…” You mumble, brows furrowing in concern. “Really, it’s okay! We can just hang here ‘til then and still have time to get dinner!” He sighs, knowing you were right. Now was not the right time to be testing the waters with Jeongguk and Namjoon.

“Okay, okay, you win, baby.”

It takes 45 minutes.

45 minutes and a free drink from the concession stand before your mind starts wandering.

You watch Seungcheol converse with Jeongguk behind the concession stand; his cute laugh sending you into orbit when your eyes meet and you can’t stop the thrums of lust pouring over your body when a certain idea pops into your head.

Seungcheol turns his attention back to the younger male and you quickly start to unlace your skates and put your normal shoes back on before Seungcheol’s entire break gets taken up.

You walk up to the two; Seungcheol cleaning off his hands before he exits from behind the counter.

“Seungcheol…” You softly call out; a look of concern crossing his features when he stops in front of you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, mmhmm! I just--I need to talk to you, if that’s okay?” Jeongguk already turns to leave, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You drag Seungcheol away, tugging him towards an even emptier part of the roller rink as the concern builds up inside of him. “I have an idea.” He feels himself gulp, already anticipating what you have to say.

“And…?”

“Well… It’s… It won’t t-take long I don’t think, just… hear me out?” You question gently, head tilting cutely up at Seungcheol who already knows he can’t say no to you. “Okay, shoot.”

“Wh--what if we… film a small POV v-video… like, not a live one! Just a small upload on my channel to test the waters maybe? I just---you don’t have to say anything and--and it’ll be quick, and--and like, nothing major just a little, um, f-fingering and--oh my god, sorry, I shouldn’t have a-asked, that’s just---I’m s-sorry I was thinking about it and it kinda got to me and I’m---I’m kinda already wet just thinking about it and--”

“No, let’s… let’s do it. To be fair, people seem to like risqué public things like that right?” A crimson blush falls on Seungcheol’s cheeks as he turns the tables, wrapping a hand around your wrist as he walks you to the employee restroom. “It’s… there shouldn’t be anyone in here so we should be safe.” He mutters, checking to make sure before he ushers you inside and locks the door behind him.

“I don’t know what to do so you’ll have to guide me a little here, baby.”

You nod, pulling your phone out and opening the camera app. Scrolling, you put it in video mode, clicking the red button before passing it to Seungcheol. “I’ve never done it either but I’m sure I can just… crop it and I m-mean it’s meant to be a little shoddy, right?” You giggle nervously, body already on fire when Seungcheol makes the camera face you. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not comfortable with your voice being in the video, I just need… this.”

You reach for his free hand, playing with it as you run your fingertips across the veins. “I’m sorry, daddy… I just… I couldn’t help but think about your fingers inside my tight pussy...” Seungcheol almost loses his grip on your phone; palm clammy when he watches as you bring his hand underneath your short dress.

“Please… please, won’t daddy fuck me with his fingers? I promise I’ll be good for the rest of the day if he lets me cum on his fingers…” You whine.

Seungcheol isn’t ready to have his voice heard yet, so he nods, fingers twitching in your hold.

You take this as an okay to continue, dragging his hand up until his knuckles graze your panties. “O-oh, fuck…”

This time Seungcheol takes the lead; his own body ablaze when he can already feel your wetness soaking through your panties. He presses into it, digging his fingers into the wet material until it sticks to you like a second skin. “D-daddy, please, please, put them inside, I need it!!” You mewl, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible while still being audible enough on camera.

He shoots you a look; one that tells you to hike your dress up until your soaking panties are seen through the camera lens. And you easily follow, holding your dress up as Seungcheol drops to his knees, angling the camera upwards until only his fingers and your clothed pussy are in view. You spread your legs a little more, back resting on the wall behind you.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer…”

He gulps once, saying a prayer before he slowly pushes your panties to the side. And you all but lose any semblance of sanity the second he runs his fingertips through your wetness, pussy clenching around emptiness. “Fuck--fuck me, please!”

Once Seungcheol deems his fingers wet enough, his eyes meet yours, asking for silent consent before he makes any further moves. You nod frantically, fingers gripping the material of your dress tightly.

Seungcheol bites his lip the second he starts sinking his first finger into your tight warmth; already feeling the drool pooling in his mouth when you moan loudly. He starts a slow pace, mentally noting just how obscenely wet you are when he drags his finger out slowly. “Ngh, daddy m-more, please, I can take it, I wanna be f-full~” He gives it a few more thrusts of his index finger before he adds his middle finger; this time slowly sinking both digits into your pussy as you whimper above him.

His eyes flit up, mesmerized when he sees your face contort in bliss. “O-oh my god, I’m--I’m already so close… Daddy’s fingers are so much bigger and thicker than mine, it fuh--feels so good…” You mutter; squirming when Seungcheol doesn’t move.

And it takes him a second; too fixated on the way your tight walls only seem to suck his fingers in deeper.

But he starts a moderate pace, scissoring and curling his fingers inside of you until you’re reduced to whines and soft breathy moans.

He can already feel you getting tighter around his fingers after a few more minutes; doubling his pace when you start to beg.

“Oh my god, oh my god, ‘m so close, fuck! P-please touch my clit, daddy, please make m-me c--cum!”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his pants but he focuses on you, thumb immediately on your clit as he rubs harsh and quick circles on the swollen nub. He doesn’t know how much time has passed or if his break is over, but the look of absolute pleasure on your face is enough to make him not care.

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, holding them still as he continuously rubs your clit until you’re cumming; thighs shaking as you let out shaky breaths above him.

“Oh m-my god, daddy!” You mumble in a hurried frenzy, thighs clamping around his hand between your legs as the pleasure washes over you.

Seungcheol lets you ride out your high, gently wiggling his fingers inside of you as he starts to slow down.

“Mmh… Seungcheol…”

Oh fuck.

He definitely liked it when you moaned his name.

“Y-yes…?” It’s his cue to turn off the camera, shaky finger pressing the ‘stop’ button. He gently slides his fingers out of you, muttering an apology when you wince.

“You don’t have to say sorry! It’s just… ‘m sensitive…” You mewl, already missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Y-yeah, of course! I, um, I hope that was okay? I’ll give you a second to get cleaned up, I’ll uh, run and get you some water.”

You nod in response, thanking him before he quickly washes off his hands and bolts out of the restroom; ears and cheeks redder than a tomato.

Once you’re alone, you quickly open your camera roll, clicking on the video as you hurriedly crop out the beginning and end, making sure that the short video didn’t have any incriminating details before you open up your camming homepage.

There’s a moment of unsureness that makes you pause. You bite the inside of your cheek, weighing the potential outcomes of posting this to your page.

But before you can change your mind, you quickly start the upload; adding a title and a short description before you lock your phone to let it process.

In the meantime, you get cleaned up, checking your appearance in the mirror once before picking up your phone again. Unlocking it, you find the upload has finished and you exhale sharply, publishing the video before locking the device again.

You move to exit the restroom, already finding Seungcheol holding a bottle of water on the other side.

“Oh, there you are! Everything okay?”

“Mmhmm! I uploaded the video before I could change my mind so I’m a little nervous…” You trail off, accepting the bottle that Seungcheol passes you.

“Well, the good news is, we’re bailing, now. I told ‘Guk to clock me out so we should get out of here so I can get your mind off of that.”

He shoots you a genuine smile, offering his hand which you take.

“Let’s fuckin’ get some ice cream, I think we deserve it.”

Seungcheol takes you on a scenic drive, taking you to an ice cream shop further away from town.

The two of you sit down in a booth towards the back of the shop and he helps clear your head, talking about various topics to keep your mind off of the huge risk you’d just taken.

“Anyway, that’s one of the reasons why I’m never bar-hopping with ‘Guk again. He’s got no limit, nobody can keep up and nobody wants to keep paying the uber fees.” You laugh as Seungcheol finishes his story, taking a sip of your milkshake.

You can’t help but sigh after a few seconds, pouting at Seungcheol who blinks questioningly at you. “‘Cheollie, I don’t wanna go home…” He stares back, unsure of what to say. A million different thoughts run through his mind in the split second before he opens his mouth.

“Why don’t you stay with me for a couple more days?”

Seungcheol doesn’t understand the gravity of his words until they spill out of his mouth; a panicked look on his face when you go completely silent in the seat across from him. “I m-mean, uh, I mean, like, fuck. I’m sorry, that must’ve been way too out of bounds. I just---it’s just, you don’t want to go home and---and I can take care of you while you’re here! Even if it’s just a couple days. I can help you film too!” He curses himself for rambling; immediately shutting himself up.

“I--I don’t want to bother you, ‘Cheol… That’s really too kind of you…” A shy blush coats your skin; chewing on your bottom lip when you shyly avoid his gaze. “A-and my filming stuff is back home too… I brought a few toys with me so I could film my weekend shows but--but my camera…”

“I can ask Jeongguk!”

You shoot him a bewildered look, brow quirking. “He--he streams sometimes too, like, video games ‘n shit. He actually offered me his extra equipment a while back, if I ever wanted to get into it myself. I can ask to borrow it, if you want?”

You drink in his words, unsure. The thought of staying with Cheol might’ve danced across your mind a handful of times, but now that the offer was on the table, you weren’t sure how to respond.

You trusted Seungcheol, and you knew by now that he would never do anything to hurt or betray you. But this was a far leap from how things were the last time you’d seen him.

“Listen, I can see the cogs in your head turning, baby. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m not forcing your hand into anything you don’t want. But I know you’ve been wanting to get out a ‘lil more and… well, in truth, I think it’d be nice for both of us? I can take care of you while you’re here with me and we can keep each other company.” He pauses, smiling at you from across the booth. “But I can also take you back to your hotel room and let you pack so you don’t get home too late.”

“‘Cheol I trust you.. It’s just that… I’m s-scared…”

“Scared? Of what, baby?”

The warmth blooms inside of you; shy eyes meeting his.

“Scared that I’m not gonna wanna go home…”

Seungcheol takes it easy for the rest of the day and doesn’t make an effort to get an answer out of you. He takes you around the city, tugging you into shops he thinks you’d like and walking around with you aimlessly until the sun goes down.

But time seems to go even faster once he takes you to dinner; a sigh on his lips when he knows he has to bring the topic back up.

“I hate to ask but… I have to take you back to your hotel after this so…” Seungcheol trails off, leaving it open-ended for you.

“I know… I just want to know… Why do you like me so much?”

The question takes Seungcheol by surprise; eyes wide as saucers. “I--I’m sorry I don’t follow?” You chuckle under your breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s just… we were strangers, kind of, before Friday, you know what I mean? And now you’re offering your place to me to just… crash at for a few days? What if I rob you blind? Or what--what if you try something with me that I don’t like?” You suddenly start catastrophizing; mind going a mile a minute with potential outcomes.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, wait. Calm down, sweetheart. It’s okay! Breathe!” You let out a shaky exhale, groaning as you hide your face in your palms. “God, ‘Cheol, ‘m sorry, I--I really want to stay with you for a few days. It’s just that my brain is going light speed and I can’t keep up. I really like you too, you’ve been nothing but kind and sweet and you’re so handsome, it’s just so crazy to me...” Your words are slightly muffled but Seungcheol catches it, a soft chuckle on his lips when he leans his head on his palm.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa and leave you alone. You can take the bed. Hell, you can even rob me blind and I’d say thank you.”

He reaches his free hand over, fingers circling your wrist as he pulls your hand down. “And I’m offering you my place because I like you as you. You’re cute and funny, and so fuckin’ humble. And I want to get to know you better. In person, y’know?”

“Y-yeah… I wanna get to know you better too. And it’s only a couple days right?”

“Right.”

Seungcheol drives you back to your hotel, a smile on his face when he sees you in better spirits.

He parks his car in front, turning to face you. “So I’ll just wait here while you grab your things and check out, okay? I’ll contact ‘Guk to see if I can swing by and take that extra equipment he offered.”

This time you nod cheerily, body buzzing with excitement as you hurriedly step out of his car. “I’ll be quick!”

He gives it a moment before he picks his phone up, taking a deep breath before typing out a message to the younger male.

‘Hey, ‘Guk I have a favour. Get back to me asap if u can.’

Jeon 🥴 : bold of u to msg me…

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features; fingers hovering over the keyboard. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jeongguk takes a second to send a screenshot, Seungcheol’s cheeks burning a crimson colour when he sees the content.

Jeon 🥴: it’s the employee restroom for me.

Jeon 🥴: bruh it’s also the fuckin way i knew it was u before i even played the video… fuck man is that why u too so long on ur break? u do kno u went over right, I clocked it cuz i was expecting u to come back sooner

Jeon 🥴: for the rec im not mad, actually im impressed just cant believe this is u

Seungcheol ignores Jeongguk’s messages, instead opening the screenshot again and re-reading the video title.

‘I was so needy… 🥺 so I asked daddy to finger me in public…’

Jeon 🥴: bitch i kno ur reading this im dropping the hyung bc u kept this from me!!

Jeon 🥴: after i even offered u my extra camming stuff u were already doing it behind my back…

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at the younger male’s dramatic nature, fingers quickly swiping across the keyboard.

‘Alright, I’m sorry okay? I just didn’t think my online habits needed to be public knowledge and for the record, that was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that. I promise no more secrets, unless absolutely necessary. And also speaking of that extra equipment, can I swing by and grab it from your place?’

Jeon 🥴: r u gonna cam now? u got one sip of the devils juice and now ur all in?

‘Would u stop being dramatic oh my god. It’s not for me, it’s for ‘cherry’. She’s going to be staying with me for a few days and I fully expect you to keep your mouth shut on this.’

Seungcheol grimaces when he calls you by your online handle; already feeling unfamiliar with it.

Jeon 🥴: o i c. sure, u can come pick it up, simp. I’ll make sure she’s got all the necessary things before u get here and u owe me one!! i fully expect u to come stream with me at least once for keeping ur secrets

‘It’s a deal. I’ll be there in an hour and a half.’

A sigh escapes Seungcheol’s lips, his eyes dancing over to your figure that skips towards the car. He locks his phone just as you tap on the glass, popping the trunk before he steps out.

“How’d it go? All checked out?”

“Mmhmm! Did you get in contact with Jeongguk? What’d he say?”

A nervous laugh spills from his lips as he puts your small luggage in the trunk, slamming it shut before rounding the car to open your door. “I’ll help you get settled in at my place and then I’ll drive over really quick and grab the stuff from his place.”

You hop in his car, fiddling with the seatbelt until Seungcheol slides into the driver’s seat.

“He didn’t ask what you needed it for?” Gulp. Shit.

“I just told him that I was thinking about streaming, for--for gaming stuff. He was okay with it.”

He’d tell you the truth. Soon, he promises.

No. Now.

Seungcheol sighs, hands on the wheel as he stares straight ahead. “No, no, I--I can’t sit here and lie to you. Jeongguk knows you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier, I told him to keep his mouth shut because I didn’t want him to bother you while we were at the roller rink.”

“I--oh…”

He can only nod; eyes dancing over to you as you play with the hem of your dress. “Yeah, I--I’m really sorry. He--He also found out I was ‘dom.cheol’ too and, fuck, I--I don’t know, I kind of panicked too. I hid that part of me from everyone I know so it was just… it was a lot.”

You meet his sad eyes, shooting him a small smile of your own. “It’s okay! It’s a little funny that happens right after that ‘kitty_junjun’ says he saw me in person too, huh? I mean, thanks for trying to protect me at least. It must’ve been weird for you too.”

“Yeah… If you’re not comfortable anymore, I… I’d understand too.” Seungcheol prepares himself for the worst, knowing that there was a chance that this was goodbye.

“Are you kidding! What’s one person gonna do? And you said he’s your best friend and you trust him… I’ll have to take a leap of faith on that one but… I trust you.”

You lean over the center console, kissing him on the cheek. “And anyway, as long as he’s not one of those weirdos asking for ‘favours’, I think we’re in the clear, right?”

Seungcheol grimaces; as long as it’s from me and not you, he thinks.

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

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sukiglycerin · 4 years

Text

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?"

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself."

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money. these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken. you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though," bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap.

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don’t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

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dwaynepride · 4 years

Text

introduction: a comprehensive guide of anything and everything relating to spending the night with leroy jethro gibbs. i’ve been writing and headcanoning gibbs for about four years now, so i’m basically an expert. so i’ll impart my wisdom upon all you gibbs fuckers out there. half-headcanon, half-character breakdown on how gibbs breaks your back.

table of contents

rule 9 - never assume (smashing stereotypes)

rule 1.2 - never screw over your partner (courtship)

rule 20 - always look under (this is his rifle)

rule 23 - never mess with a marine’s coffee (what he likes)

rule 38 - your case, your lead (doing the do)

rule 45 - clean up the mess that you make (or: aftercare)

conclusion

rule 9 - never assume (smashing stereotypes)

jethro is dispassionate. imagine thinking this man wouldn’t throw all of himself into his lover. couldn’t be me. just because he has walls and he’s careful about not opening up doesn’t mean the sex will be any less passionate. it is all or nothing for him.

he’s vanilla. sure, jethro may have some old-fashioned, vanilla tendencies. but i would describe him as a neapolitan ice cream: there’s some vanilla, but other flavors are there and it’s really dealer’s choice. jethro will likely change his tactics depending on if his lover needs some more rough, or sweet, or something that will take away their power.

there’s little to no aftercare. the harsh and distant federal agent that jethro portrays during the day does not translate into his sex life. he loves the people he’s close to, even if it’s difficult to show. but after sex, when the world is still so far away, jethro finds it the easiest to lean into his more vulnerable side. kiss and touch his lover without the fear of seeming weak. he wants to be able to take care of his lover, in all avenues of life.

he always need to be in charge. i won’t sit here and tell you that jethro finds no pleasure in taking on a more dominate role. but it would be a lie to say he doesn’t find it extremely fucking sexy when you take control and give him orders. tell him to strip down or order him to make you cum.

rule 1.2 - never screw over your partner (courtship)

jethro is, no surprise, a hard man to get close to. difficult, but not impossible. you should approach him as an equal and don’t let him play his bullshit games.

it’ll take time and effort to earn his trust. usually, gibbs can get annoyed by people overstepping their bounds with him. trying to push too hard to get him to open up when he isn’t ready. don’t go to him in hopes of somehow getting him to let his walls down. he’ll come to you when he’s ready.

gibbs responds best to lowkey, non-verbal acts of affection. bring him coffee when he’s low, share your lunch, take the annoying phone calls for him. he’ll notice the little things, and he’ll reciprocate. he’s most comfortable with non-showy affection.

be honest. be trust-worthy. don’t lie to gibbs (if you can help it.)

and don’t get frustrated if he seems to be reluctant to crossing certain lines. jethro’s moral code is very important to him, and he’s learned not to get that close with people if it’ll be complicated. so show him that those lines he’s so afraid of crossing aren’t so bad. show him that he can love people without it jeopardizing everything.

slowly, carefully, start flirting. once you’re comfortable with each other and there’s a mutual trust going on, gibbs will definitely respond to some flirting. at first, it’ll be playful. trying to fluster you because it amuses him. but over time, his jabs will become compliments. going from “you’re all dressed up, you got a date tonight?” to “you look nice.” very subtle shift, but very meaningful.

start getting touchy. try to insert yourself into his bubble. gibbs will need that extra push, and if you’re holding his arm or hugging him or putting a hand on his shoulder, that just gets him used to your touches.

eventually, jethro will realize that you somehow wriggled your way past his walls because you leave his house after having dinner together and he wishes you’d stay.

rule 20 - always look under (this is his rifle)

this part of the guide details key parts of leroy jethro gibbs’ body. sensitive areas, discussions of cock, and reactions to certain stimuli.

sensitive areas:

surprisingly, his hands can be very receptive to touch. he’s rough and a fighter and he builds boats, but touch his hands and he’s putty. this also includes taking his hands and leading them to where you want them to touch you.

squeeze, bite, and scratch his shoulders while fucking. jethro’s got some broad shoulders, and he does love the feeling of you digging your nails into his skin when he goes a little harder.

stroke his belly and chest while giving blowjobs. he’ll get goosebumps and it will drive his touch-starved nerves crazy.

touch his face while riding him. curve your hand around his jaw. go up into his hair. gibbs has a big thing about face touching

the marine’s load out

jethro’s cock is average in length, but his real bragging rights come from the girth. he’s thicker than usual, and he’s sure to fill his lover up full. jethro knows this, and that’s the reason why he’ll be keen on foreplay or making you cum on his fingers first. he’ll probably brag just a little bit.

when hard, jethro is about 5-6 inches. thick and heavy with a lighter shade of red. he can get a bit veiny if you work hard enough - get him wound up enough to where gibbs is just throbbing in your hand. at that point, you should absolutely start pumping hard and quick. that’s when he’s at his most sensitive and there’s a big potential for jethro to get fairly loud.

the volume of his pre-cum is kind of a random thing. sometimes there’s a lot, other times he’s pretty dry. don’t be afraid to use your own spit for a handjob, or go down on your knees to get him in your mouth. besides, gibbs likes it just a little bit messy.

when leroy jethro gibbs cums, there’s almost always a guaranteed chance of semen. like many avenues of his life, he will completely blow away your expectations. even if you make him cum several times throughout the day, he’s unlikely to start shooting blanks. jethro will give you a reward for all your hard work by cumming in your hand or mouth every single time. though, knowing him, this shouldn’t surprise anyone.

rule 23 - never mess with a marine’s coffee (what he likes)

jethro gibbs likes to add a bit of spice to the bedroom every once in a while. he knows exactly what he likes and doesn’t like, and he’ll be sure to tell you. but until then, here’s a quick and convenient list:

what he likes:

cumming on you

bondage

sub/dom dynamics

blindfolding

overstimulation

oral

lingerie

begging

barebacking

what he doesn’t like:

excessive dirty talk

pegging

clothed sex

use of toys

phone sex

roleplay / playing dress up

daddy kink

rule 38 - your case, your lead (doing the do)

with leroy jethro gibbs being sufficiently courted and now comfortable letting you in, it’s finally time to get down and dirty with him. after dinner and a couple glasses of bourbon (jethro’s way of wooing his lovers), he’s ready to take things to the bedroom. what now? follow these guidelines to ensure the best fucking this marine can offer:

jethro will automatically go into “take control” mode. he’ll be kissing you, touching you, keeping you distracted with his mouth and before you know it, his coat is on the floor and his hands are coming up the back of your shirt. don’t let him go it alone - touch him back. tug on his clothes. make him know you want him.

you should be the one to undress yourself, if you can help it. he would like to watch you slip your shirt off or shimmy out of your pants. you might feel a bit self-conscious under his gaze, but trust me. you’d be able to tell if gibbs didn’t like what he saw.

a big tip to fucking leroy jethro gibbs is to catch him off guard, sometimes. not everything has to be a surprise, but if he’s busy trying to suck a hickey into your neck, maybe palm him through his pants. or tug on his hair a little.

it’ll give him a bit of a rush, but jethro would also appreciate that you’re eager to give as well as receive. he’s had his share of selfish lovers in the past, so if you convey that you want to pleasure him as well? you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.

he’s good with his hands. he loves working with his hands. gibbs is almost too eager to push his fingers inside you and make you rock up against his palm. don’t be afraid to pull his cock out of his pants and start working him up, too. it’ll be almost too easy to have him grunting between clenched teeth. trying to focus on fucking you with his fingers but the glide of your hand is too good to concentrate.

but rest assured, jethro won’t stop until you cum on his fingers, at least once. he’ll have half a mind to make you cum once more, just because he can. he may not admit it (he’s not all that great at dirty talk) but gibbs loves hearing you cry out his name. loves your little moans when you’re getting closer. it’s almost enough to make him forget how hard he’s throbbing.

once he’s sure you’ve orgasmed an acceptable amount, jethro would be ready for the main event. usually, his go-to position is missionary. he’s old-fashioned, like that. it’s where he works the best. he’ll kiss you, let his hands wander and explore for a bit before penetrating. jethro is slow, at first. steady, but slow. he’ll want to work up his own rhythm, even if you’re begging for him to go a bit faster.

he relies more on power and strength than the speed of his thrusts, anyway. you probably will find it difficult to walk right the next day.

as he gets closer to climaxing, you’ll really start to notice. gibbs has this thing where he wants to get as close as possible when he’s cumming. when he’s close, just cling to him. touch him. wrap your legs around his waist and let him ride it out while grinding up against your body. and keep him close, even after jethro slows to a stop.

rule 45 - clean up the mess that you make (or: aftercare)

jethro gibbs will rely on a bit of aftercare, even if he doesn’t think so. he’ll be more than happy to offer it - he’s not the type to simply turn over and fall asleep without tending to his lover. but here are some ways to return the aftercare:

dozing together: curl up to gibbs, close your eyes, and just relax. he doesn’t need words or pillow talk; jethro probably would feel more at ease in comfortable silence. he prefers laying with his lover and simply enjoying the feeling that comes after a good fuck.

petting: stroke his hair. play with his hands. something soft and physical to help ground him. jethro doesn't hate physical contact - he’s just kinda touch starved. letting your fingers stroke over the skin of his chest really does wonders.

drinking bourbon: old habits die hard? this may be on a more rare occurrence, but gibbs would definitely appreciate a finger of bourbon. mostly after a quickie, but sharing a glass with him would surely good for his emotional well-being.

conclusion

this has been a quick, easy-to-digust guide on fucking leroy jethro gibbs. i’m glad you stuck with me through this analysis, and i do hope this helps you with any future fucking you may find yourself in. take this knowledge and do some good with it.

#ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine

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sheep-and-lykos · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 5 - Daddy Kink (Gladio x Fem!Reader)

It was no secret Gladiolus was a dominant person both in his personality upon meeting everyone and in bed. Gladio loved how much he dwarfed you, how easy you were to pin against the mattress, how compliant you were, how at just the slightest touches you would unravel under his giant hands.

Gladio was not an asshole in bed. He could soft if he needed to be. He would make sweet love to you after you had a bad day either at work or in general. He would pamper you with kisses, do whatever you asked whether it was just to eat you out or just be slow in bed. Gladio loved being soft with you, but he loved being rough even more.

Rough kisses, spankings if you were either teasing him too much or taking your sweet time, biting, scratching, hickies he enjoyed seeing you fuss over in the mirror in the morning on how you would manage to cover them. He’s even up for handcuffing you to the headboard and railing you into the mattress until you couldn’t walk. But the reigning supreme kink he had to be that he loved to be called ‘Daddy’.

Yes, Gladiolus Amicitia loved to be called ‘Daddy’ in bed by you. He would get you to spew it from your mouth like a prayer, as if you were a broken record of some sort. It was like sex to his ear, he wanted more.

So you decided to give him more.

Turning down winding corners in the Citadel was unnerving at first but you had gotten the hang of it once you remembered to take a left here instead of a right and go straight instead of turning. You had grasped the cool, brassy handle of Gladio’s office door and opened it.

It was shocking to learn Gladio had an office in the Citadel, mainly because he was a shield and not an advisor like Ignis. No surprise that Gladio barely used it, only to set down things like a coat if it’s winter, an extra change of clothes just in case (and of course a few boxes disguising cup noodles). In fact, Iris would use it more than Gladio to do her homework in for peace and quiet if she didn’t want to go back to the house. It was barely decorated, maybe a few paintings that they had put in, a nice rug before the desk, a couple of bookshelves with some of Gladio’s personal books and a few plants. But it was also where he would be if you were to come to visit him when he was working. His desk your table to eat upon and… at a few instances to fuck upon, thankfully never getting caught by anyone including Ignis who had nearly walked in on you giving Gladiolus a handjob under the desk.

But upon arriving, you saw he, Noctis and Ignis were all gathered around sorting out a few folders of paperwork Gladio needed to sign. Ignis struck up a charming conversation with you on his new recipe that sounded absolutely divine while Noctis and yourself had played a quick round of King’s Knight before all of the paperwork had been signed and put away, now tucked away under Ignis’ arm. The advisor and prince wished you a good afternoon before leaving you and Gladio to your lunch breaks.

Cup noodles were on the menu for today (like most days), Gladio-style with above and beyond extra ingredients like actual strips of rich meat and finely added real vegetables in the thick paper cups, somehow making the noodles taste even better than they were to begin with.

You both sat across from each other, usual conversation floated between you two. How the day was, juicy gossip, who was in Insomnia visiting, etc.

It wasn’t until you both had finished when Gladio stood from his chair before you. You assumed he would go towards his phone that was on the charger a little ways away to text Iris or his father like usual, only to feel his two hands come up and squeeze your shoulders.

You felt your heart plummet before it shot up to pound in your ears like war drums. You felt as though your cheeks were hit with a flask of fire magic.

Gladio leaned down and slowly nuzzled your ear, sharp teeth nipping at your earlobe. He growled darkly in your ear, crooning softly.

“I would just love to fuck you over my desk again,” he purred. His hands squeezing your shoulders tightened, bunching up the fabric of your sleeves. “I would love to see your ass in the air as I spank it, to hear you try to hide your moans behind your trembling hands. To hear you call out to me to fuck you even faster like the dirty little girl you are.”

You couldn’t help the soft whimper that pushed its way past your lips, eyes fluttering shut. You could already see it now. You could already feel it now. You wouldn’t even be able to drive back to the house, your ass would be raw and throbbing from his spanking.

“So why don’t you?” you whispered.

“I have to train the royal pain in the ass,” Gladio sighed, letting go of your shoulders. “Shame though, I would have loved to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock underneath my desk.”

An idea popped into your mind out of nowhere, an evil little grin spread across your lips.

You stood up, smiling to Gladio before placing a little goodbye kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sorry to cut this even shorter, but I just remembered I have errands to run.” You walked to the door but stopped when you had your hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you at home,” you glanced over your shoulder to your boyfriend, “daddy.”

The look on Gladio’s face had you laughing as you walked out the door. His eyes widened, it almost looked like he had lost all color from his hearty tan, his body was all rigid.

Upon entering your car, you saw you had a missed text message from Gladio.

‘You’re in trouble when I get home.’

You couldn’t help the coy little giggle that left you as you turned the keys in the ignition.

You had received multiple text messages upon arriving home, all from Gladiolus, all about how he was going to destroy your little pussy until you were begging for him to forgive you. There were also a few dick pics of him in the bathroom. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his erect cock in all its glory. It was big, longer than average and thick enough to feel like it was tearing you apart. You were craving it.

Maybe you should have had a quickie? Just the thought of him bending you over his desk, fucking you senseless so fast had you drooling.

You had busied yourself for the rest of the day with mindless tasks. Cleaning, organizing the pantry, throwing out expired food, whatever you could do before it was time to make dinner for the two of you. Iris was at one of her friend’s houses for an overnight study session while Clarus would need to stay the night at the Citadel to hammer out some paperwork with the king.

Which left Amicitia Manor all to yourselves.

You knew in the back of your mind that Gladio would abuse that fact.

You had even changed out of your normal, comfy cotton underwear and bra to black lace with golden accents, something you knew would spice it up once Gladio would get home.

You were standing at the stove, stirring away in the pot when you heard a car door open and slam closed followed by the loud beep of it locking. You shivered as you could hear the frantic chiming of keys and the familiar clicking in the lock as someone unlocked the door. You heard the door close and lock not too soon after.

You were shaking with excitement but tried to hide it. You had your back to the kitchen archway, it was easier to hide your smile that had spread from one cheek to the other.

With each thundering footsteps towards the kitchen had your heart pounding louder and louder in your ears until you heard the familiar creak of someone entering the kitchen.

You were officially pinned between the stove and Gladio with nowhere left to run.

“You wanna explain to me why you decided to rile me up back there?” he practically snarled.

You took a few quiet, shuddering breaths, still stirring the pot before you.

You decided to try your luck with him even more. You knew you would get yourself in trouble, digging yourself a deeper grave, but it was always worth it in the end. Gladio always made it worth it.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently. “Did I do something wrong, Gladiolus?”

You heard him take a few more lumbering footsteps towards you.

“So now you’re playing the innocent card? Like you don’t know what you did back there?”

You turned off the stove and set the dripping spoon on the coaster. You turned to face him with the most innocent look you could conjure up.

“What are you talking about?”

You fucked up. Just looking at how sex-crazed he looked had your knees shake a little bit. Eyes dark, no specs of those lovely amber eyes you’ve fallen in love with. He was breathing heavily as though he ran in the Insomnian marathon. You could see his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and how it glistened just right from sweat and… oh Astrals you could feel your pussy aching. You needed him to fuck you, you wanted him so badly.

You suddenly shrieked, Gladio snatching you and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing more than a sack of flour and carried you up the stairs, taking them three at a time. He practically tossed you onto the bed, closing the door with the back of his boot before quickly advancing towards you like he was some predator. It didn’t help that the curtains were still drawn shut from this morning, him looming figure seemingly bigger now.

You spread your legs for him to which he snatched at your pants and threw them off, hands yanking off your shirt from over your head. His eyes zeroed in on your laced underwear set, pupils were blown wide with primal lust.

It was like something inside of him snapped. His hands tore apart your panties with his strong grip, tossing the now destroyed materials over his shoulders before he unzipped his pants, pulled out his big cock and mounted you.

You cried, feeling Gladio immediately snatch at your breasts and squeeze them through the bra. He snarled in your ear, fucking you quickly as if his life depended on it.

“You’re such a dirty little girl, wearing slutty underwear for your daddy,” he nipped your ear. “Teasing me like that, how could you do that to me?”

“Gladdy!”

Gladio gripped at your hips roughly, bucking his hips, slamming his cock into your tight pussy. You felt like he was splitting you apart from how tight it was. You screwed your eyes shut, whining and moaning.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he growled above you.

“I’m sorry daddy!” you cried. “I’ll never do it again!”

He started snapping his hips faster, hands dragging and pushing you away and into each thrust.

“You’re my little slut, you hear that?” You nodded weakly, clawing at the sheets below you. “Say it!”

“I’m your little slut, daddy! Only yours!”

“That’s fucking ri-” Gladio cut himself off with a moan as you came with a scream, your pussy seizing around his cock, squeezing his dick in all the right places. “I’m not fucking done with you yet.”

#gladiolus #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #ffxv #ffxv imagines

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sleephyuns · 3 years

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Chaeyoung cracks open the bottle of champagne, some of it bubbling over before they frantically lick up what spills down their hands. “Shit!” They scamper around, not even thinking about going to the sink which is really only a few steps behind them. Instead, Dahyun comes over, just as simple minded as Chaeyoung.

“I got you.” No paper towels or anything, they just tilt their head under Chaeyoung’s dripping hand and catch whatever falls before more of it coats the floor.

And that’s the sight that greets Nayeon as they use their extra key (that technically might be illegal to have made a copy of, but that was neither here nor there) to open the door, seeing the two of them in their little predicament in the kitchen right across from the door.

“And why didn’t you just go over to the sink?” Nayeon asks with a laugh.

The two of them stand there for another moment before Chaeyoung slowly walks over to the sink, though there’s not much of a point anymore. Dahyun just embarrassedly starts to wipe up the floor with a towel.

“I bet you cold clean it up ten times faster with those atrocious sweaters you’re wearing.”

They all laugh this time. Chaeyoung gives a little shake of their head, as they grab 3 clean glasses from the dish rack. “And what are *you* wearing under that coat of yours?” they ask, wondering why Nayeon hasn’t taken off the large object yet. It swallows them up like one of those runway models, and they can’t help but laugh. But Nayeon just looks at the both of them with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m glad you asked.” Nayeon slowly unzips their coat, giving them a little flash of red before they throw it to the ground. Now they can see it all.

Their chest is pushed up in a lacy red bra, topped of with fuzzy white trimmings. Following the little bow in the center, leading their eyes all the way down, they could see that white trimming around the edge of the silk skirt, cut in the front like a curtain, the lacy red panties peeking out. And the last little treat were the red fishnets that adorned their legs, held up by a pretty red garterbelt. The santa hat on Nayeon’s head was a welcomed addition, but it paled in comparison.

“What do you think?” they ask giving a little twirl. The sheer skirt floats up in the breeze, giving them a nice little flash of their panties, now aware it was a thong underneath. “Pretty festive, right?” they give a little finishing pose, something model worthy. Fitting for them.

And there’s a million things they both want to say, as they stand there in silence, Chaeyoung’s hand now slightly sticky from the spilled drink, part of the floor as well. Maybe if Chaeyoung wasn’t so flustered they might compare it to a certain *elsewhere* that was beginning to match that same state, but they don’t.

Instead, they continue to stand there in silence. Until Dahyun stands up from the floor they were wiping at, “Wait... you walked over here like that?”

Nayeon rolls their eyes. “Yes. Our buildings are only a few blocks apart, so it’s no big deal.” They grab one of the glasses of wine Chaeyoung has poured, giving them a kiss in thanks, before walking out of the kitchen, over to the couch to sit down.

“And you weren’t nervous in the slightest?” Dahyun asks, Chaeyoung in tow (bringing the rest of the bottle along too). “You didn’t want to wait to change?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the thrill? This is our last day together before I go home for Christmas. That’s a whole week without you two, so why not spice it up.” Nayeon groans. But them they quickly switch to a smile, patting their lap. “You should just come sit in my lap and tell me how good you’ve been this year.”

Dahyun’s face turns red as they sputter, not quite knowing what to say.

Nayeon looks at them, then at Chaeyoung. “Nothing to say? Well, maybe this will help you out.” They reach up to the bow in front, giving it a little tug, and the whole thing comes undone.

They toss the whole article aside and sit back on the couch in all their glory. Their dorm is never that warm, the two of them always so quick to get hot. So they can see how easily those little peaks harden in the cool air.

But Nayeon doesn’t seem to care, or is just incredibly good at acting (the latter, of course). They turn on the tv like they aren’t just sitting there topless, scrolling through movies on netflix idly. Chaeyoung sucks through their teeth, sitting on one sode of Nayeon. Dahyun sits on the other, placing a hand on the bare part of Nayeon’s thigh.

“You better believe we’re gonna be all over you after we finish this bottle.” Chaeyoung announces, pouring some more champagne into Dahyun’s glass, who accepts it gracefully before tossing it back.

Nayeon takes another little sip from their glass, smirking. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#just a little something for the holidays #college au #nadubchaeng #nayeon #dahyun #chaeyoung #nsfw(ish)#twice

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istoleyoursnacks · 3 years

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Brunch Time!

I’m posting this on a Saturday night, but it doesn’t matter! Any day is great for brunch, but Sunday brunch is the best, right? Whether you're making the yummy foodies to wake up both yourself and your family (or just yourself like me!), Or if you happen to treat yourself by going out for an omelette, a skillet, or even eggs and pancakes! But a good homemade breakfast/brunch hash is a great way to get everyone out of bed and around the table!

I have a basic hash recipe for you that involves a heaping cup of love. For first time cookers, it's a great thing to get under your belt, and once you feel you've mastered the few ingredients in your pan, you can start adding things, taking them out, and really play around with hash. My hashes are almost never the same (unless I'm being kinda lazy or sick. Sometimes even just the base hash is good enough). You can find it below, as well as a variant or two! Please note that with this hash, I do not use pre-shredded potatoes. I chunk mine into bite-sized pieces!

So, for the very basic hash, I typically use:

1 russet potato OR a couple of handfuls of the small potatoes that come in the one pound bag to equal a russet. Make sure to clean your potato. No need for the extra helping of dirt. Peeling it is optional, but I typically don’t.

Part of an onion OR one shallot. A shallot is a more subtle onion that doesn’t have that sharp taste, and definitely won’t make you cry when you cut into it!

Peppers. Depending on what you want in there, I at least start with a green bell. You can add as many as you want after. I throw in part of a green and part of a red for color.

Butter! They say to use olive oil to be healthier, but let’s face it: butter-fried potatoes are the BEST. Vegan friends can use a hot-temperature oil like canola.

Mushrooms. You can get them pre-sliced, or you can get button ones to slice yourself. Either way, use the stems! They’re edible!

Some kind of meat. This is optional, especially for the vegan/vegetarian friends, but I love a meat in with my hash. You can use leftover steak from the night before, ham steak, bacon, pancetta (which is an italian-style cured bacon/ham. It may be more expensive, and if you can’t tolerate a lot of salt like me, give it an extra rinse in your strainer before adding), etc.

Note here that if I say just butter, you can assume I’m saying butter/oil. :)

So! Here is how I make my hash to make sure it’s cooked all the way! Crunchy potatoes that are underdone are... well, you won’t make the same mistake twice. It has a distinctive crunch. I’ve heard that people used to eat potatoes raw once, but a: I don’t know if that’s actually true, and b: I was very young when I heard this. But anyway! Melt your butter (if you’re making it for two, use 1 Tbsp, use 2 for four people, etc) over med-high heat (my stove is electric, so if you have numbers, I use between 6 and 7. Get that pan nice and hot!). While the butter melts, chunk up your potato(es) to bite sized pieces or smaller if you want, then add to the pan when you start hearing a nice sizzle from the butter/oil. Give the potatoes a nice stir to coat with the butter, then let it be for a minute or two while you slice and dice the onion. If you plan to use pancetta, add it with your potatoes. It needs time to render. If not, then just wait with your meat until the end. Add your onions, then give that pan a stir. Then slice and dice some peppers, then add to your pan. By this time, you should be a: smelling wonderful things from your pan, and b: start to see a nice light brown from your potatoes! Toss in those mushrooms next, then let it sit for a few minutes, stirring occasionally. Let them turn a nice brown, then add your meat that isn’t pancetta or bacon. Give it a nice warm up, and get some fry marks on there if you really want to.

Ta da! You can serve it with a nice egg on top (I fry mine over easy to let the yolk run in there), put some cheese on if you like, crank some pepper, and make some toast!

That was the basic hash! Below are a couple of nice variants! Also, don’t be afraid to experiment with different spices. I give you some tools to help you, but I also encourage experimentation! That definitely doesn’t mean put dried basil on your tongue and see what it tastes like, or trying a teaspoon of vanilla (spoiler alert: vanilla extract is gross). But use this and then try new things/ spice combinations.

Mexican hash:

Add a poblano pepper to your pepper mix, use chorizo, tomatoes, add some chili powder, garlic powder, cumin, and then (if you really want to get fancy!) some pinto, black, or light red kidney beans! Top it off with some hot sauce, salsa, sour cream, and cilantro (but only if you like it!). If you don’t have those specific spices, taco seasoning will work as well. I personally don’t use the pre-made stuff cause it has so much salt in it. If you use chorizo, add it right away with your potatoes, and use a half amount of butter. Chorizo will release an oil when you cook it down, so it will mingle with the butter nicely and you won’t end up with a greasy mess. (hint: use your toast to help mop up that lovely oil on your plate! ;) )

Mediterranean hash:

Add some greens in there! I like using spinach to get juuuuust to the part where its wilting, but kale works here too. Use garbanzo beans (chickpeas), olives, maybe some dill or za’atar seasoning (you can find this blend in the spice aisle of your grocery store. It’s a blend of sumac, oregano, thyme, and sometimes marjoram. If you can, give it a whiff at the store. It’s a very lovely smell.) Tomatoes would go well in here too. Top with feta cheese!

If you make something else and love it, share it with me! I’d love to hear about what you came up with! Also thank you very much for letting me share these with you. Happy brunching!

-Snacks

#foodies!#how to #breakfast hash #snacks' guide to food

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to-star-lake · 4 years

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ether [ pt. 1]

pairing | pjm/jjk x reader genre | angst, love triangle word count | 6k rating | M, 18+

“Y/N! Come on!” Taehyung urged, waving his hand up at you from the doors of the bar.

It was almost 10:30 and the side of the building was lined with people dressed up and ready to have a good time. You ducked under the velvet rope and hustled up towards Taehyung who held the door open for you, while the very tall and imposing bouncers in extra tight black t-shirts were blocking two guys in fancy-looking suits.

“Look, I got a table, check the list!” One of them swung his arms out in drama and the other one dodged it but in doing so, stepped back and ran right into you.

You fell back a little, almost rolling over on your heels, but you felt his arm catch you and steady you back on your feet.

“Shit, my bad, are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m ok, thanks,” you brushed out your dress, and looked up to see a concerned face under a perfectly styled wave of silver hair that fell slightly over his eyes.

He smiled shyly, his eyes forming into little crescents from his cheeks pushing up against them.

“Jin! Jimin!”

He turned and you followed his gaze and saw two girls in tiny cocktail dresses and stilettos walking up to them, arm in arm, one waving.

“Y/N, come on,” you felt Taehyung’s hand reach out and grab your wrist, pulling you through the bar entrance, and noticed that that guy’s hand had lingered on your back until you were pulled away.

“What took you so long? We’ve already been here like an hour,” Taehyung shouted over the music, leading you through an overcrowded dance floor under a haze of neon lights.

“Sorry, I had a presentation to wrap up at work,” you shouted back as he led you to the back corner to a seating section where your friends sat.

“Y/N!” Namjoon greeted, throwing both his hands up and cheering when you arrived. “Finally! Were you working late again? On a Friday night too, overachiever!”

Taehyung slid into the booth beside Namjoon and you took a seat beside him. “Ha, I just had a presentation to wrap up for next week,” you leaned in and shouted over the music. “Where are Hoseok and Jungkook?” you asked, looking around.

“They went to the bar to get more drinks,” Taehyung leaned into your ear and answered, before looking and pointing out past the dance floor to the crowded bar.

Under the spinning lights and past the crowds you were able to make out Hoseok’s profile and he was leaned onto his elbows against the bar, bobbing his head to the music. But you didn’t see Jungkook beside him. You glanced up and down the bar and finally at the opposite end, saw the messy dark waves that was unmistakably Jungkook’s head. And a girl in a backless dress leaning into him, sliding an arm around his neck and whispering something into his ear.

You felt your teeth clench together when you saw this. “Hey Tae, who’s that girl talking to Jungkook?” you tapped Taehyung’s knee and gestured over towards the bar, trying to ask the question as inconspicuously as possible.

Taehyung glanced where you were looking and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, some rando, she’s been trying to hit on him all night,” he leaned over the table, picking up his glass and taking a sip.

You nodded at his response, trying your best to control any emotion from surfacing on your face.

“Y/N, you’re here!” You were brought out of your thoughts by Hoseok, scurrying back to the table, his hands full of glasses.

“Hey Hoseok,” you smiled, standing and taking a few of the glasses out of his hands and helping set them down on the table.

He reached an arm out and leaned in to give you a hug. “Long time no see!” he joked, but he’d actually just seen you a few hours ago as he was leaving work.

You noticed Jungkook walk up in your periphery and you did your best to maintain your composure. Not knowing whether to give him a hug as a greeting, you simply sat down, grateful that Hoseok quickly scooted into the booth beside you.

Jungkook had both hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, and the girl was with him, arm locked in with one of his.

“Hey!” you smiled, trying to greet him as naturally as possible.

“Hey,” he said simply, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. The girl took a seat beside him.

“This is Yuri, we work together,” he gestured towards her, introducing her to the group. “We just ran into each other at the bar.”

“JK and I met on a project we were paired on last month, he totally saved my life for that final client presentation,” she gushed, slurring a bit and craning her head into his shoulder, her arm still locked around his.

The way she called him ‘JK’ made you shudder, but you did your best to smile and reached for one of the glasses Hoseok brought over, downing it in three gulps.

“Hey, guys, check out those assholes over there,” Namjoon said, nodding towards the table a couple down from yours.

You looked over and saw that it was the two guys that you saw at the front door of the bar. The two of them looked out of place compared to everyone else. Everyone was dressed nicely, but the two of them were a whole other level of nice. The one with the theatrical display outside was tall and thin, with perfectly coiffed dark hair, and had on a designer shirt and coat, and sat in the corner of the booth with both arms on the backs of the seats, tossing his head back in laughter at something the girl next to him said.

The other, the one that ran into you outside, looked much less ostentatious, but anyone could tell that the silver strands of his hair were professionally groomed, and his clothes probably cost as much as your rent. He was seated to the end of the booth, and seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with the girl beside him.

“Man, do you think those girls are models?” Hoseok asked, jaw dropped looking over at them.

“Dude, actually, I think I recognize one of those girls from Instagram,” Namjoon said, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

You turned back to the group and across the table you saw Yuri leaning over and whispering in Jungkook’s ear, her hands tugging on his arm and his thigh, as though she and him were in their own world. You could see he was politely trying to keep his distance, but he was not outrightly refusing her, and this made a knot form in your stomach.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you stood up fast, startling Hoseok beside you.

“I’ll come with,” Jungkook said from across the table, unhooking his arm from Yuri’s.

“No, it’s fine,” you said and immediately regretted because your tone came out much more scathing than you intended. You quickly brought it down, “I need to go to the bathroom too.” And turned and walked off before he could respond.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, pushing through the doors to the bathroom hastily and leaning your head back against the wall.

You wished that seeing other girls flirting with Jungkook wouldn’t get to you like this. It’s not as though he actually likes any of them, you thought. But then why doesn’t he just tell them to stop? It’s not like he actually likes you either, or at least he’s given no confirmation of it, your inner monologue continued, so why are you even letting yourself get worked up over this?

You weren’t exactly sure when you started developing feelings for him. Maybe it was first semester junior year when all of you were at a party after you had just broken up with your ex and you drank a little too much and he walked you home. You remember his arm around your waist, holding you close to make sure you didn’t fall over. The way he draped his jacket over your shoulders and you had refused, saying you felt hot, but he insisted. “It’s November, Y/N, you’ll catch your death.”

The way he helped you out of your dress and pulled a t-shirt down over your head and when you crawled into bed, tucked the covers in around you. When you began crying, asking “why didn’t he want me, why’d he leave me,” thinking about your ex, that he sat at the edge of the bed with you, holding your hand, and brushing your hair from your eyes. He pulled you close, and you remember the way his cologne smelled on the skin of the nape of his neck, and how he kissed you, saying, “Stop thinking about that idiot. Who’s he to not want you?”

You remember he fell asleep beside you that night, but when you woke up the next morning, he was gone. You remember texting him to thank him for taking care of you, and getting no response from him until the next time you saw him at Taehyung’s almost two weeks later. He said nothing to you about that night. It was as though it never happened.

The next few years went something like this. There were days when he would call, ask where you were, and would meet you at the library, bringing you food or coffee. Or would sometimes randomly show up at your apartment at 2 in the morning with a pack of beer, ramen, and a bad movie. He would stand in your kitchen, chastising you about the lack of organization, rolling up his sleeves and neatly putting away all the dishes from the dishwasher and organizing your spice cabinet before cooking.

But on other days, you might text him asking what he’s up to and you just wouldn’t get a response. And you’d run into him with the guys or he would show up where you were hanging out, and carry on totally normal, as though your texts had just gotten lost in the nethersphere and he never saw them. Sometimes you’d go a couple of weeks without hearing back from him or seeing him.

You never knew where you were with him, and that somehow added to the appeal. He would be so sweet and kind to you, and other times he was completely distant, constantly running hot and cold.

It also didn’t help that Jungkook is incredibly handsome, and had a reputation for being ‘the last of the good ones,’ a gentleman, and all girls chased after him. And he, being such a nice guy, never outrightly refused or was mean to any of them. He always indulged their flirtatious conversation, though never anything beyond that.

You sighed, deciding it was stupid to continue thinking on this and walking over to the sink, ran your hands under cold water, patting your face a little to cool down your flushed cheeks. You pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, drying your hands, and tossed the crumbled ball into the trash before pulling the bathroom door open and upon walking out, bumped directly into someone.

“Oops, excuse me-” you looked up, and saw a familiar smiling face.

“It’s just going to become uncanny if this keeps happening,” he laughed, eyes bending into those little crescents again.

In the revolving neon lights of the bar, you were able to tell that you bumping into him had caused him to spill almost the entire drink he had in his hand, though thankfully not on himself or you, it just splashed onto the floor.

“Oh I’m sorry about that,” you said, your hands held out apologetically.

“Hah, no it’s all good,” he smiled. “This wasn’t that great anyway, I was actually headed to the bar to get something else.” He paused and looked at you for a moment and continued, “Can I get you something? I fear if we just walk away, the universe will keep making us bump into each other and next time this might be more disastrous than just a spilt drink,” he chuckled.

“Um,” you looked back at your friends, and upon seeing that Yuri was still snuggled up next to Jungkook, decided, “Sure, why not? Wouldn’t want to upset the universe,” you mustered a smile.

He smiled back. “I’m Jimin,” he reached a hand out to you.

“Y/N,” you responded, shaking his hand.

“Y/N,” he repeated, smiling as he turned to move through the crowds back to the bar.

You followed him over and he reached a hand up, getting the attention of one of the girl bartenders immediately who strutted over, a gleaming smile on her face.

“How was it?” she asked, leaning forwards on her elbows and placing her chin on her hands, blinking through false eyelashes at him.

“Better, but let’s do this,” he set the glass down on the counter, his index finger tapping the base. “Colder, less vermouth, and let’s go with that Blue Sapphire,” he turned and looked at you. “Y/N, what would you like?” he asked.

“Um, I’ll have a gin martini too, please,” you replied.

She smiled and tapped her hand down on the counter, “Alright, two colder, less vermouth, Blue Sapphire gin martinis comin’ up.”

“You know your drinks,” Jimin mused, turning to look at you as he took a seat on one of the open stools beside the bar.

“You want yours with olives or with a twist, babe?” the bartender asked, a shaker in her hand.

“Olives, please,” you replied, and she nodded in response.

You turned to see Jimin clutching his chest in drama, “A girl after my own heart,” he smiled.

You watched as the bartender set two glasses on the counter before filling them both, gently brushing a lemon peel along the rim, and dropping a strand of olives in each, sliding the glasses to the two of you across the counter.

Jimin picked up his glass, taking a sip and the bartender watched for his reaction intently.

“Much better,” he smiled, setting the glass down on the counter.

“Very well, let me know if you need anything else, babe,” she winked, turning to take another order.

You held the glass to your lips and took a sip too.

“Well?” Jimin asked, eyes focused on you. “What do you think?”

“Mm,” you made a face upon tasting the drink that made him laugh.

“What, what is it?”

You set the glass down. “She had ice in that shaker, you can taste the water,” you said, turning to look at him, brows furrowed. “Frozen liquor, frozen glass, no ice, never ice.”

You watched the smile on his face grow.

“Vodka or gin?” he asked.

“In a martini? Gin, always gin,” you replied, brows knitted together taking another sip, seeing him staring back at you with a giant grin on his face. “What?” you set the glass down, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious under his unrelenting gaze.

“I love you.”

You coughed, almost choking on a sip of your watery martini. “Hah, um, martini’s are fairly straightforward, I think most people know how to make one..” you said, laughing nervously.

He chuckled lightly, “No, I don’t think they do.”

“Jimin! What the hell man, I’ve been looking for you.” A bombastic voice approached and you looked up to see the skinnier guy with dark hair throw his hand forward, smacking Jimin’s back, to which Jimin responded with a whiney ‘ow’ and a feigned hurt expression.

“Come on, let’s go, the girls are bored, we’re gonna leave and get our usual table at Hyacinth,” he continued.

You watched Jimin sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Jin, this is Y/N,” he said, resting his hand gently at your shoulder to introduce you. “Y/N, this neanderthal is my friend Jin.”

“Ne-neanderthal?! Really! What-well that’s just-”

“Don’t worry, he may look big and dumb...that’s cus he is big and dumb, totally harmless,” Jimin leaned over and whispered as Jin continued his rant. This made you laugh.

“I’m not gonna go to Hyacinth man, you guys go,” he said, looking up at Jin.

“Dude! Come on, you were supposed to be my wingman! You know how I got Yena to come out tonight? It was cus her friend Miya was coming out with us. You know why Miya came out? Do you? Cus I told her you were gonna be here, come on man, help me out here,” Jin whined, throwing his arms out.

“You’re gonna have to find some other way to get Yena to like you,” Jimin laughed at Jin’s childish displays. “I’m staying here man, I found better company,” he turned to you, smiling.

“Fine! Be like that! You stay here and drink your shitty martinis, we’re gonna go to Hyacinth and don’t even think about coming to join us, I’m gonna tell the guys at the door not to let you in!” Jin huffed, turning and stomping off.

“Sorry about him,” Jimin turned back to you, laughing softly.

“It’s okay, you guys must be pretty close, huh,” you said, watching as he ran his hand through his hair again.

“Yeah, like an annoying sibling,” He dropped his arm down on the counter, looking at you and grinning. “He is right about these martinis though,” he said, pushing his half empty glass away. “How about we go somewhere that knows how to make a proper drink,” he smiled.

“I was always told not to wander off with strangers,” you said, pushing your glass away too, and considering his proposition.

He stood up from the stool, moving a bit closer, and leaned onto his arm on the counter beside you. “We all start off as strangers,” he said, lowering his voice.

You felt your cheeks become instantly flushed and looked away quickly, but you could feel his eyes were still focused on you. Past his shoulder, you saw that your friends were still hanging out and Yuri was still seated beside an indifferent Jungkook, putting in her best effort.

What the heck, you thought, how could going somewhere with a handsome stranger be any worse than staring at Yuri trying to vie for Jungkook’s attention all night.

“Where are we going?”

He smiled, and reached down, taking your hand in his to lead you toward the exit.

“Hey! Hey Y/N! Where’re you going!” You heard Hoseok’s voice call out as you made your way past the tables beside the dance floor.

You turned and waved, still following behind Jimin, who was oblivious to your entire table of friends now staring wide-eyed with their jaws dropped at your walking out with him. You couldn’t be sure but you thought you saw a flash of panic across Jungkook’s face before you turned and followed Jimin out the exit.

Outside, you stepped off the sidewalk onto the busy street and held an arm out for a taxi, but Jimin grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Are we going somewhere within walking distance?” you asked.

“Not quite,” he smiled, and you turned to look in the direction of the loud rumbling sound of a car engine.

The sound came from a red McLaren P1 pulling up to the curb.

Everyone that stood outside the club or were walking by on the sidewalk seemed to pause and gasp at the sight of the car. The driver’s side door slid up and you saw a valet step out and hand the keys to Jimin.

“Thanks man,” you watched Jimin slip a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and hand it to the valet. “What?” he grinned, seeing you gawking at him and the car.

“I, uh,-” you didn’t even know where to begin. “You sure you’re okay to drive?” you asked meekly.

“For sure, we basically just drank water in there remember?” He grinned, pulling the passenger side door up for you, gesturing for you to get in.

You gulped, stepping into the car and took a seat, watching as Jimin closed the passenger side door and walked around to the driver’s side and sat, shutting his door.

The car looked and smelled brand new, and as the ignition roared to life, you saw the lining of the dashboard light up in a low, red LED light. You watched as Jimin held the steering wheel with one hand and looked over his shoulder into the street before pulling away from the curb.

About 20 blocks uptown, Jimin pulled the car up to the entrance of a stone building and handed the key to a valet failing to hide his giddiness that he would get to drive a McLaren.

He led you down a few steps to the side of the building into a bar unlike anything you’d ever seen. Stepping through the entrance, you saw a room dimly lit with crystal chandeliers overhead, leather benches all across the room’s periphery with antique mahogany tables and chairs filled with people. The walls were lined with a beautiful wallpaper with painted caricatures that look like they could be found in a children’s book and the entire ceiling was covered with gold leaf.

You followed him to the bar, where the two of you were greeted by a smiling bartender in a three piece suit. “The usual?” he asked.

To which Jimin replied, “You know it,” smiling.

“And for you, miss?”

“Oh, uh, I’ll have the same, thank you,” you looked around at the bar, unable to tear your eyes away from the beautiful paintings on the walls, lost in the dark atmosphere and ambience, the sounds of electric guitar riffs, bass drum, and a sultry, melancholy voice played overhead.

“You like it?” Jimin’s voice brought you back.

“The wallpaper..” your eyes locked in on one particular drawing of what looked like a man handing a balloon to a child. “It looks like these books I used to read as a little girl, Madeline.”

His smile grew. “This is Bemelmans bar,” he said. “The walls were actually painted by Ludwig Bemelmans himself.”

“You’re lying,” you stared at him in disbelief as the bartender slid your drinks across the bar to you.

Jimin smiled at your incredulity. “It’s true,” the bartender verified. “We’ve been able to keep the walls in pristine condition over the years.”

“Holy shit, that’s incredible,” you continued staring at the paintings on the walls around you, and heard a soft chuckle from Jimin as he sipped his drink.

You picked up your glass and took a sip too. “Oh, wow, that’s so much better,” you commented, taking a few larger gulps of the drink.

“I know,” he smiled.

“So, um, can I ask you a question?” you couldn’t hold in your curiosity any longer.

“Of course,” he replied, taking another sip from his glass, turning sideways on the barstool, facing you.

“What do you do?” you blurted out, gulping down the rest of your drink.

The question seemed to catch Jimin off guard, because he laughed, almost choking mid-drink and had to set his glass down, motioning the bartender to bring two new ones over.

“What do you mean?”��

You furrowed your brows and shot him a look. “I meeaan, the McLaren? The hundred dollar tip to the valet? I just saw the bartender punching our drinks into the tablet over there and I could probably make 30 martinis at home for the price of one of these. And, the clothes?” you gestured your hands over his body. “I mean, what do you do? Who are you?” you paused for a moment, seeing that the cheery expression he’s held all night dropped slightly.

The bartender slid two new drinks across the bar to you and removed the old glasses.

“Does it matter to you?” he asked, tone suddenly serious, taking a larger sip from his glass.

No, of course it doesn’t actually matter, you thought to yourself, self conscious that you might’ve offended him by asking in the first place. It was just that it’s not often you see someone your age having this kind of lifestyle.

“No, it doesn’t really,” you answered, quietly taking a sip of your drink.

“I’ll let you guess.” You looked up to see the smile had returned to his face.

You sat up, thinking hard, staring into his eyes.

“Are you….” you lowered your voice, “Are you a drug dealer?” you asked, mostly joking.

He laughed softly at this, “No, I am not a drug dealer.”

“Are you...an arms dealer?”

“No, Y/N, I’m not an arms dealer,” he laughed more.

“A mob boss?”

He sputtered his drink, setting his glass down on the counter and reaching out to take both your hands in his, swinging back and forth on the stool cheekily and pouted, “Why are all your guesses implying I’m some kind of bad guy?”

You looked into his eyes, at this display of innocence, unsure of whether he’s trying to deflect or if he’s really being sincere.

Because everything so far just points to ‘bad guy,’ you thought.

“Oh, this song,” you sat up, hearing the sharp intro bass notes to Tiebreaker come on.

Jimin stood up, smiling, still holding your hands in his. “Come dance with me,” he said, nodding towards the dance floor to the center of the room.

You pushed yourself off the seat, standing to follow him and the martinis started hitting you. He held onto your hand as he led you past the bodies tightly packed together til the two of you reached the center of the dance floor, and you felt your limbs relaxing, vision starting to blur under a filter of the smoky, hazy, golden lights from the chandeliers overhead.

He reached down and took both your hands in his and slid them up around his neck, pulling you in close. He gazed down into your eyes sweetly and dragged his fingertips gently down your back, stopping at your waist to tug your body flush against his. Through the silk material of your dress, you could feel the heat from his palms as he guided your hips gently, slowly moving to the music. You felt your body growing hot and the air around you grew thin, the smell of his cologne falling over you as he leaned his head down to your neck and slid his hands further down your back, pushing your body closer into him, the metal buckle of his belt pressed against skin made your mind drift.

“Um,” you pulled away quickly, reaching a hand up and brushing your hair back, feeling your heartbeat quickened in your chest. “I’m just gonna go outside and get some air,” he gave you a perplexed look as you backed away. “I’ll just be a minute, I’ll be right back.”

You pushed clumsily through the crowded dance floor til you found the front doors and burst through them, taking a deep breath and pushing your hair back with both hands, glad for the cold autumn air hitting your skin, the breeze unsticking the thin material of your dress from your stomach.

What is happening, you thought to yourself as you tried to regain your composure but found it increasingly difficult as your legs felt like jello beneath you, recalling in detail the way he moved his hands and hips against you. Recalling how for a moment back there in your drunken haze, you almost called him Jungkook.

You felt a rush of blood to your cheeks, your eyes burning as a thin layer of liquid formed in your tear ducts.

Fuck.

“Everything ok?”

You turned to see Jimin step out onto the little stone veranda beside the front entrance where you were pacing.

You blinked rapidly, trying to make the tears go away. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, it just was a little hot in there, needed to catch my breath,” you stumbled through those words.

“Are you ok?” He walked up to you, tilting his head and seeing your watery eyes. He reached one hand out, tugging onto your waist and lifted the other to your face, pushing your jaw upward so he could look into your eyes. “Did I do something?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, “No, no it’s not you, I just-” you sniffled softly, looking away. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey,” he tilted your face up to look at him. “I can make you feel better,” he smiled. “Wanna hear why I like you?”

You let out a soft laugh at this. “Um, you like me?”

“Of course!” he said, a surprised look on his face, as though he was saying how could you question this.

“But you don’t know anything about me.”

“On the contrary, I know quite a bit,” he smiled wide. “I know that you have good manners, you’re always thanking others, whether it’s the bartender, or me just holding the door open for you, you’re very polite, believe it or not that says a lot about a person.” He slipped both of his hands around your waist and pulled you in close.

“I know you like your gin martinis the way I do - just a little dirty,” he grinned, and you laughed. “I know you know your cars, and you may think I’m a bad guy, which makes me want to prove to you just how wrong you are about that.”

His smile grew, “Good, I’ve made you feel better haven’t I?” he quipped, seeing the smile on your face. “Now, your turn, tell me all the things you like about me,” he grinned widely.

“Um,” you laughed quietly, tilting your head back slightly to look at him - at his eyes, glittering in under the lights, at how sweet they looked. “I like...your hands,” you said, slightly embarrassed. He looked at you, waiting on an explanation. “Most guys have no idea what to do with their hands, but you use them well,” you continued and saw a smirk grow on his face.

“Yes, I am very good with my hands,” you felt them slide down to the curve of your hips, fingers digging slightly into your skin.

“Oh my god, Jimin, not like that,” you laughed, hitting his chest softly with your fist, though you couldn’t deny that actually was exactly how you meant it. “I like...I like dancing with you. I like the way you move,” you continued.

“Yes, I do move very well too,” his smile grew, and you watched as the tip of his tongue grazed his corner of his mouth, causing your gaze to be completely fixated on his lips. “Anything else?” he asked, voice low, leaning closer.

“Um...I-” you felt his hands grip into your hips tighter. “I like your lips,” you said in a whisper, your voice shaky. “They look like they might be really soft-”

“I’m happy to let you test that theory.”

“What-” your words were cut off by him leaning down, pressing his lips against yours. You took a long inhale, feeling your body relax against his, your mind going blank as he pushed your mouth open with his, tilting his face against yours. Gently, he slid his tongue into your mouth and you heard a soft moan escape your throat, feeling his hand sliding down your hip, his fingers grazing your skin under the hem of your dress.

His other hand reached up behind your neck, craning your head as his lips traveled to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your ear.

“Well?” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “What’s the verdict?” biting gently into the skin of your neck.

“Mm, um..” it required a concerted effort to get air to your lungs. His lips traveled across your cheeks and once again covered your mouth, his tongue rolling over yours made your knees feel weak, leaning your full weight into him for support. “Jimin,” you pulled away from him slightly. “Will you take me home?” you asked, looking up at him through sleepy eyes, unable to keep from thinking about what he could do to you once you had some privacy.

“Of course,” he replied simply, taking your hand and leading you out to his car.

He drove swiftly, following your directions, his hand grasping onto your thigh. You rolled the window down on the passenger side in an attempt to calm yourself. The car came to a stop outside your apartment complex, and he got out behind you, following you across the dim, open courtyard towards the elevators.

“Are you busy tomorrow, Y/N?” he asked as you reached the elevators.

You thought for a moment, surprised at the sudden question, turning and seeing him waiting for your answer expectantly, his hands in his pockets of his pants.

“Um, I don’t think I have any plans, no,” you replied.

“Great, you’ll spend the day with me then,” he beamed. “I’ll come back in the morning, I’ll pick you up at 10.”

You chuckled softly at this. “Wait, you’re serious?” you looked at him, slightly incredulous at his words.

“Very serious,” he answered, taking a few steps toward you, and you felt your back hit the brick wall beside the elevator. He took you in his arms, leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. “Spend the day with me.”

“Ok,” you couldn’t say no as his lips molded into you, his tongue gliding over yours and he pressed his body to you, pushing you back into the wall. “Um, Jimin, would you..would you want to come upstairs?” you managed through huffed breaths.

He pulled away from you, looking you directly in your eyes.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, leaning over you, grinning as he pushed his thigh between your legs, making you gasp.

“Y-yes,” you muttered, feeling Jimin’s hand slide under the hem of your skirt, dragging his palm up the inside of your thigh, closer and closer to the little puddle that’s been pooling in your panties since you danced with him at the bar.

“Hmm, if I come upstairs,” he brushed his mouth against your throat, planting feather-light kisses on your skin, making goosebumps rise on your arms. “What would you want me to do?” You felt his finger loop around the dampened material of your underwear, pulling it aside and dipping a finger between your lips, chuckling softly as he touched you. “Is this all for me?” he whispered, gently pressing his finger at your entrance, and you could feel yourself dripping around him.

“Fuck..Jimin..”

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” he bit down softly at your ear. “Use your words, love.”

“I..um-”

He retracted his hand from you, kissing at your lips gently before pulling away. You were leaned against the wall, breathless and wanting to pull him back against you but you had no control over your faculties.

He leaned over, pressing the up button on the elevator, and the doors opened with a ding.

Taking your hand, he guided you into the elevator and gave you a soft kiss.

“You think on what you want me to do, Y/N. And we can work on that tomorrow,” he grinned, stepping out of the elevator.

In disbelief that he was really going to leave you like this, you blurted out, “Tease!” and as the elevator doors closed you saw him tilt his head back slightly, looking at you as he slid his hand over the raised ridges of the tight material of his pants below his belt.

You bit into your lip and when the doors closed, you felt like you were going to collapse on the floor, your legs felt so weak.

You hit the button to your floor and managed to drag yourself into your apartment, falling onto your bed immediately as you walked in. The breeze coming in through the open window helped cool your body, and you could still feel all the places his hands touched you, as though his fingerprints were imprinted into your skin.

You lifted your arms over your face, resting your hands on your eyes, closing them and taking a few deep breaths, wondering if he was actually serious about coming to see you tomorrow. Opening your purse, you took out your phone, tapping the screen and as it lit up, you saw multiple banners flash up - (5) Missed calls: Jungkook.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Gimme Love, 6/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Welp, I'm back from travelling! For anyone interested to know how it went; it was great (if you love stress). Liverpool is a lovely place but I've destroyed my bank account :D

Anyway! We got 4 more chapters of this fic! This is where the conflict begins. I hope yall enjoy.

TW for this chapter: Homophobia, homophobic slurs

2020

The cake was in the fridge. We'd be seeing him later. For now, we settled for some spaghetti. It had become a sort of tradition for Jujubee and me for moments that needed celebrating. But we hadn't done it in so long, what with the stress of work.

"So, Juju, as you can see, I've labelled the pages you're allowed to read, so don't go looking at other shit, OK?" I asked, chopping up a red bell pepper.

"Why? If I do, am I gonna find some porn-y shit?" She quipped, running a hand along with the butterfly print book.

"Honestly, you know all of those details anyway." I gave her a smirk, taking a piece of pepper and throwing it over to her.

I almost expected it to fly past her head, but she caught it in her mouth. Skill.

"OK, but what's in the box, though?"

I almost forgot what she was even referring to. But following her gaze, I saw it, sitting on the kitchen counter beside the fridge. "Oh, that?" I scraped the peppers into the saucepan, "That is my memory box."

"Ooh, that's even more exciting." She beamed.

"No. We're not opening it." I moved on to an onion.

"Aw, why not?" Jujubee whined.

"Because I made my Mom promise me she wouldn't give it to me until I turned 50. But I was weak and begged her to give it back. So now, I've promised myself to not look inside until I turn 50." The air was no longer clean, poisoned with the acid from the onion. My eyes were beginning to sting.

"Aw, Brie, you don't need to get all emotional about it." She had to go and joke about the tear now trickling down my cheek.

"Girl, this is torture," I wipe my eye along my wrist, pretty sure my eyeshadow has been fucked up. "Did I fuck up the smokey eye?"

"Nope." I knew she was lying to me, but she couldn't take her eyes away, "You look absolutely gorgeous as usual."

"Not as hot as you, though." I sniffed. I needed her to focus on reading so I could finish chopping the onion as soon as possible. "Anyway, you wanna read something in there?"

Jujubee opened the book and immediately laughed, "Jesus Christ, Brie, bit dark."

She showed me the first page, childlike scribblings read 'Brianna's Diary. DO NOT TOUCH! Or this will happen to you!' An arrow led to a picture of a grave.

"I never even noticed that before," I chuckled.

"With a warning like that, I better find some crazy shit in here." she cleared her throat, "So starting in 1994, 'Diary Diary, Today, I had a fight with Jujubee. She really upset me, but I upset her too. I should say sorry. That's all. Bye.'" Jujubee lowered the diary, "you bitch, why did you upset me?"

"I have no idea, girl. I mean, didn't we do that a lot back then?" I shrugged.

"I bet you started it though," She lifted the book again, a coy smile on her face. "OK, moving on to 1995," she cleared her throat, "'Dear Diary, today Mommy and Juju's Mommy took us to see Pocahontas at the movies. It was very good. Goodnight.'" Jujubee paused to giggle, "God, I love how detailed this is. You could have added so much more."

"Girl, I was 8 years old. Writing more than 4 sentences was like writing the bible to me." I countered, finally scraping the onions into the pan with the peppers.

"Yeah, but we did so much more that day. We went to McDonald's after, we found that little frog pond in the woods." She pointed out.

I hadn't even remembered that. Now I kind of wished my younger self would have pushed herself to write more.

I was too busy rifling through my messy cabinet for oregano to notice Jujubee just flicking through page by page.

"But, you wrote 3 pages worth of poetry to Blair St Clair?"

Once I found the spice, I spun around to look at her, "Juju, I told you to only look at the pages that were labelled."

She held a hand up, "OK, I'm sorry." She closed the book.

I felt bad, thinking maybe my harsh tone brought the fun to a grinding halt. Squeezing my eyes shut, releasing a sigh, I said, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

She took a sip of her water while I added the oregano to the saucepan.

"So, did you text her back?" She played with the glass in her hands.

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Why? Do you think I should?" I asked quietly.

"Nah, not really."

"Well, why not?"

Jujubee shrugged her shoulders and went to look at her nails. "Don't know."

I clicked my heel, my tongue running along the top row of teeth behind my closed mouth. "Well, I've been thinking about it. I mean, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I could be a bit more responsive."

She made a humming sound. I was unsure what it was supposed to mean.

"OK, what's going on?" I put both hands on the counter.

"I don't know. I just think…" she paused, trying to find her words, "I don't see the point because the same shit will just happen again."

"The same shit?" I repeated, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, her speaking all but 10 words to you and then completely ignoring your existence." She put a hand under her chin.

"Well, maybe that wouldn't happen if I actually spoke to her like I wasn't terrified for once," I suggested.

She squeezed her eyes together, "Oh no, Brie. I knew this was going to happen."

"What was going to happen?"

"The whole Blair thing. I thought you were over it. Well, until she messaged you recently, I had a creeping feeling that it was all gonna come back."

"Juju, listen to yourself. You're talking like this is an actual problem."

"I hate to say it, but it is. Do you remember the time she hung out with you in the library? You were so excited the next day. I hadn't seen you so happy in so long. You wouldn't stop talking about how she would probably be there again." She paused, "But she wasn't. And you were so disappointed."

"Yeah, but things could be different now."

"And how's that?"

"Well, I'm a different fucking person now, that's one thing. I'm successful, I'm smart, I'm hot as fuck, rich as fuck - -"

"And you think that's gonna be the game-changer for her? That she's gonna come running into your arms? Because if that's the case, that says a lot about her." Jujubee rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm a big girl, now. If it happens again, I'll just get on with things. I'll move on.

"That's a lie."

I squinted my eyes. "Why are you being like this right now? You're so salty just because I fucked wrote a private letter to her as a child."

"This isn't about the letter, Brie. You know why I'm being like this. You shouldn't need to ask." But she continued, "You've never dealt with never having parents. You think that if Blair was to suddenly be truly interested in you, you'd get over the feeling of being unwanted. Yet you're surrounded by people who love and support you, who'd stick with you to the end. But right now, you don't give two fucks about them because you're too busy panicking about some girl from high school."

I lift my head again, putting one hand on the desk and the other on my hip, "Well, congratulations, Juju. Sounds like you got me all figured out. Hey, you wanna talk about my Grandpa next?"

She only reacted to that with a scowl. And she spoke again.

"You remember the prom? Do you remember what happened? Do you remember how she didn't do anything to stop Trevor?"

My eyes shifted away, just for a second. "She told him to stop."

"Which did nothing."

I wanted to argue how she was unfair. How it was so wrong to blame Blair for the prom incident. But I was distracted by a burning smell. Only now did I notice the onions and peppers blackening.

I quickly moved the saucepan off the heat, feeling it only radiating in my own face. I put a hand on the counter, the other on my hip. "OK, Juju, maybe you should leave."

It was safe to say Jujubee was taken aback. She remained still for a second before pushing her stool out. "So that's how it is? Kicking me out when you're faced with the truth?"

"Juju, just leave, please." I felt my hands clench around the edge of the counter, my nails digging into my hip.

"I am!" She grabbed her coat and stormed from the kitchen. I flinched upon hearing the door slam shut, and only then did it sink in - the dread, the feeling of regret.

I looked at the hob, the burnt vegetables unsavable. So they went in the trash. My stomach grumbled. But I couldn't bring myself to start over again.

Opening my fridge, my eyes were immediately on the cake. And I glanced over my shoulder, looking where she had sat, now feeling a sense of emptiness. Not in me, but the room. Like I was alone.

I was alone.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I repeated as my hand clenched on the door. The cool air from the fridge felt nice but not enough to stop my panic.

I looked at the cake again, feeling the urge to throw it out the window. Or maybe just send it back to her.

Bitchy, I know. But I couldn't help it. I wouldn't be feeling like this if she hadn't acted the way she did.

I slammed the door shut, kicking it for extra measure. And in my heels, I almost tripped.

Filled with more anger, I paced around for a few minutes, aggressively cussing to myself.

Don't get me wrong, one part of me said she was right about Blair.

No. She isn't. I was going to prove Jujubee wrong.

I picked up my phone from the counter, found the message and began to type with trembling fingers.

"Blair…" I panted, "So sorry...for getting back to you so late... I'm a busy woman, as you...probably already know...Look... I'm just gonna say it...I really like you...I always have...You make me feel so confused...yet so happy at the same time...I feel a connection between us...I always have...I don't know whether you ever felt it or not...but I do hope so...I would love to meet up with you sometime soon...and maybe have a coffee...I don't know...maybe even some wine, if you want. I look forward to hearing back. Brie x"

My thumb hovered over the send button. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of the clock. Not even my own breathing.

I pulled my thumb away, closed my eyes and breathed out. "Brie. You sound fucking crazy. You sound insane. You can't just send shit like that." I repeated words of the same nature to myself, trying to usher myself off the edge before I could do something idiotic.

"Jesus Christ." I opened my eyes again, which were now glossy with tears. I wouldn't blink. I wouldn't let them fall.

Big mistake.

I thought I tapped the chat bar, going to delete the message. But my blurred vision said, "haha, no."

I tapped the button next to the chat bar. The send button.

The little noise my phone made as it was sent may as well have been the same as a gun clicking.

"Oh, God." My eyes couldn't tear away from the small screen. My heart rate increased. "No, no, no, you fucking idiot!" I pressed my thumb down on the message.

There was a delete option.

I clicked it.

'Are you sure? The recipient may have already seen the message.'

I backspaced to check.

There it was, the tiny version of her profile picture falling to the bottom of the screen. She was reading it.

"Fuck!!" I blurted.

I put the phone down on the counter, began pacing for a moment, and looked back at the phone. This went on for a few minutes. I wanted to be as far from my phone as possible. But also needed to know if she had replied.

This was it.

Blair was going to know how I was weirdly obsessed with her.

She was going to know I was checking her out in the library that one time.

She was going to know that I had fingered myself so many times at the thought of her.

What were my options?

Suicide - Not gonna happen.

Running away - But the project.

Reply with 'Hey, sorry! My friend took my phone, haha' - did anyone ever believe that excuse?

Block her before she could reply - then she'd think I was even more crazy.

Call up her place of work and somehow get her phone confiscated - why, though? That would involve Facebook stalking her again, trying to think of an excuse. Even if I did so successfully, she still saw the message.

All of the options just lead to cons. It was hopeless.

With shaky fingers, I switched my phone off and practically threw it onto the counter.

My body sank to the ground, now holding my head in my hands.

What do I do? What do I fucking do?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2004

I was shaking. Only slightly.

There was something about the prom that made me feel so on edge.

Maybe it was all the people, all together in one room.

Perhaps it was the fact the chess boys asked to make out.

Or perhaps it was the fear of missed opportunities. Opportunities that involved a certain someone.

I watched from the side of the room as Blair took pictures with her friends on her pink digital camera. There was a feeling of regret causing my stomach to twist, my fists clenching onto my purple dress.

That could have been me.

I felt a hand moving a curled lock of hair from my shoulder.

"Just think, girl; we're almost there," Jujubee appeared in front of my vision, "College is just around the corner."

"I can't wait to be out of here," I spoke quietly.

Everyone turned their attention to the stage as Rosé appeared, announcing it was time to crown Prom King and Queen.

"Well, it's pretty obvious who our queen is." Jujubee crossed her arms.

I knew who she was thinking of. To be fair, it was pretty obvious. But I wasn't complaining.

Trevor was our Prom King, not my King anyway. I scoffed as he cheered, being pushed up to the stage by his team.

"Jesus Christ, who would have thought." Jujubee took a sip of her punch, spilling a drop on her lilac puffy-sleeved dress.

"And your Prom Queen is…" Rosé paused, pulling the result from the envelope.

3...2...1…

"Blair St Clair!"

I smiled for the first time since walking into the place. I applauded her victory as she walked up onto the stage.

Blair hugged Rosé and whispered something in her ear. I had no idea what it was, but I was too distracted as Trevor just stared.

"You wanna make a speech, girl?" Rosé joked into the mic.

Blair laughed, covering her face with embarrassment. She turned down the offer.

"OK. Everybody," Rosé held a hand to Blair and Trevor, "You're King and Queen of 2004."

Blair looked slightly uncomfortable as Trevor put an arm around her waist. Why couldn't he get the hint she was done with him?

The two got down from the stage, Trevor's gaze following her in confusion as she moved far away from him.

"Aren't they supposed to do a dance now?" Jujubee asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, Juju. I've only seen proms in movies, and they're quite obviously exaggerated."

My eyes landed on Blair once more. Trevor was whispering something in her ear, and she shook her head, rolled her eyes and walked away. Yikes, he was desperate.

"Jesus, I'm fucking nervous." Rosé was approaching us now, well, the punch table we stood beside. "Getting up on stage gets my body shaking, you know?"

"Wish I could do that." Jujubee replied.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do." Rosé replied.

I eyed her suspiciously. This was odd; she'd never really spoken to us before.

"But of course," she looked left, then right, before pulling a flask from her bra and pouring it into a cup, "this helps. You ladies want one?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jujubee made a stank face.

Me, on the other hand, having never drank alcohol in my life, piped up, "Actually, yeah. Could you just pour me a shot of whatever that is?"

"Yeah, of course," and she didn't lie. She poured me a shot of vodka. No spitting in the cup, no adding anything sneakily, no hostility.

She passed the cup to me, giving a mischievous wink.

Tossing it back, I was totally shocked by the burning sensation it caused to my throat. I began to cough and splutter.

"Girl, chill out, or you're gonna draw attention to yourself." Rosé looked around.

I placed the cup down on the table, the plastic practically crumbling in my hand.

"This is it. The beginning," Jujubee joked, dabbing the corner of my mouth with her pinky. I didn't even know there was a drop of liquid there.

And I didn't know there was a hair out of place either. Because she was stroking a soft hand down my temple to my cheek.

"Brie, do - -"

"Juju, I'm gonna ask her to dance with me," I said all too loud.

The hand dropped instantaneously, her smile falling in a matter of seconds. Of course, I expected this shocked reaction. Even Rosé had nearly choked on her drink.

"For real?" Jujubee asked after a silent moment.

"Yep," I answered proudly, putting my hands on my hips.

"I guess you've never touched a drop of alcohol in your life, loser." Rosé leaned close to me.

"Something like that." I felt slightly uncomfortable now that she was dangerously close to me.

She snorted a laugh, holding up her hands as she walked away, "I'm not responsible for this."

So this was what they called liquid courage. Yeah, it was one shot, but it was my very first. And I was already feeling it. The buzz.

I turned to make my way to the girl I loved when Jujubee grabbed my hand, "Brie, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," I replied too quickly, tugging to pull away.

"Are you sure?" Her brows knit, "You're not gonna be upset if she says no, right?"

One final strong tug was enough to release her grip on me, "No, Juju. I'll be fine, just...stop questioning me, OK?"

She was silent, her arms dropping by her side.

But I continued on in my mission, vision slightly blurred, insides warmed.

Everyone around us was gone like they had just stepped into another world, leaving Blair and me in this reality. Or maybe it was the two of us who disappeared, somehow falling into the wormhole and ending up in the other world.

Or maybe it was just liquid courage.

There were only a few metres between us now. "Blair?"

She had been taking a sip of her coke when she looked up and noticed me. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she put the can down.

"Brianna!" She beamed. Her eyes looked me up and down, causing a brief moment of panic, "wow, look at you. You look great."

"Yeah, right, compared to you." I stifled a laugh.

"Oh, shut up." She smirked.

"So, um…" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, looking away and to the ground, "I was just...wondering...if you'd wanna dance with me?"

I didn't lift my gaze. Only now did I understand what Jujubee meant. The girl hadn't even said no yet, and my heart was already sinking.

"It's just...this song is so good, and it's the end of the year, and we may not - -"

Before I could continue rambling, she cut me off.

"Sure. Yeah, I'll dance with you."

I lift my gaze to see her glittering smile. Like in the library, time didn't feel real anymore, and I needed to remind myself to breathe. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course." She briefly knit her brows like it shouldn't have been questioned. She took my hand in her perfect french manicured one, "Come on."

As we made our way to the dance floor, I was only now reminded that there were people here. So, we didn't slip through a wormhole. This was real. This was reality.

Blair found a spot on the floor, turned to me and wrapped her arms around the back of my neck.

For a moment, I was unsure of where to put my hands. I glanced over her shoulder, noting the couple also slow dancing. She has her arms around his neck. He had his arms around her waist.

I was hesitant at first but eventually gave in. Blair didn't mind. And I felt myself relax.

She just stared at me, the sweet smile still on her face. The music echoed around us. The lights were low. Pink tinted.

"So, how does it feel winning Prom Queen?" I asked. Of course, it felt amazing for her, but I needed to find an excuse to speak. Anything to avoid the somersaults my stomach was doing.

"I mean, it's nice, I guess. But, it's all bullshit anyway?" Her smile faltered, "Not something anyone in the future will give a fuck about, right?"

I disagreed. If I were to win prom queen, I would feel validated. And I would make sure I'd bring it up to everyone I ever met. Pathetic, I know.

"Well, I can't think of anybody better," I admitted. "Maybe they could have chosen a better King."

"Agreed." She nodded. "You know, literally just now, he tried to use this whole King and Queen thing to 'try again'. Not even that long before you came up to me. Brianna, I've already given him another chance. And he blew it."

"During the Summer?" I recalled.

"Yep." She pursed her lips.

"What did he do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, he just had some major anger problems," her eyes widened for a moment, "He never hurt me, though. He just...got so angry over the dumbest shit. It was just too much."

She puffed out a breath, the frown on her face appearing.

"You don't have to tell me any more," I said quickly.

"Sorry, I don't wanna get emotional." She looked back at me. "It's just... it's hard not to. You're a good listener."

How should I have felt knowing that was her analysis of me from very little time spent together? She really trusted me. "Blair... I'm sorry about that time in the library. When you mentioned my Grandpa. I feel terrible now."

"Please, don't. You were grieving."

'Was I really though?' I held back from saying.

"I never really had a Dad," I smiled, seeing his stupid smile in my head, "But he was the closest equivalent to that."

"I know what you mean." She began, "My Dad…" she trailed off for a moment, "He wasn't the best. You probably remember that one time I ran away as a kid. When you walked me to my Grandma's."

I wasn't even tense in the first place, but my body felt like it relaxed. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. It really meant a lot, Brie." Her thumb stroked the back of my neck. I don't know if she did this intentionally or subconsciously. Was she even thinking about it? "That day, I never went back. Ever. My Grandparents took full custody of me, and they became my second parents. The ones I always deserved."

I felt my body relax even more like this was normal. "Blair, I wanna carry on something my Grandpa started."

"What's that?"

"It sounds crazy," I pause, "But he wants me to find a parallel universe."

I paused to take in her reaction. She did look taken aback for a moment. Could you blame her? "Is it even possible?"

"I mean, at first I thought he was a bit out there asking me something like that, on his deathbed and all. But I've been studying really hard, and I think it's achievable."

"That's interesting." She nodded. "So, what are you gonna do at college?"

"Drugs." I giggled before the smile dropped, "OK, not funny. Bad joke."

"I'm laughing, though." She was.

"Um, no. I'm gonna do Astronomy and Space science."

"I didn't know that was a major you could do," Blair replied.

"Me neither. What about you, though? Something in theatre?"

Blair lowered her gaze for a brief moment, "I dunno, Brie. I honestly don't see college as a me-thing. I'm constantly torn between theatre, fashion merchandising, cosmetology, politics..."

"Politics?" I laughed and instantly hoped she didn't take offence to that.

"What?" She smirked. "What's funny?"

"I just…" I paused, feeling my heart skip a beat as a particular memory came back. "This is crazy. I can't believe I remember this. All I can think about right now is the day we met. Remember the first day of elementary? On the bus? I told you I wanted to be a politician when I was older, just 'cause they liked to shout a lot. And you couldn't say the word right."

"Oh fuck, now that you mention it, I do remember." Blair laughed, "That was such a long time ago. We were so little." She looked away as if her mind had transported her to that moment. Did she remember it like I did? Did she remember how she held my hand and told me she was my friend?

And then never sat with me ever again?

My eyes had drifted away, looking over her shoulder at nothing in particular. The bad thoughts were taking over. I didn't want them to. I wanted to enjoy this moment forever. Just swaying back and forth with Blair in the middle of the dance floor.

She stroked her thumb on the back of my neck again, causing a spark to course through me.

Blair's looking at me again. "Brianna, how come we never talked more?"

I don't know if it was just me fantasising again, but her face was moving closer to mine, ever so slowly.

I had the answer to her question. But it couldn't ruin this moment. "I don't know," I whispered.

She was closer now, head tilted to the left.

And I found myself doing the same.

This was another fantasy. This isn't real.

I felt her breath on the corner of my mouth.

It felt real.

It was.

There was a frustrated roar.

A tight fist clenched around my arm.

I was pulled back forcefully.

My feet gave way.

I was on the ground.

"Are you kidding me??" Trevor stood in front of Blair, his face red with anger, "You won't fucking dance with me, but you'll dance with her??"

Everyone around us was just standing there, too shocked to do something.

"Trevor, what the fuck??" Blair went to move around him, trying to get to me. He only pushed her back.

"Of all the people, why her??" He grilled Blair with more questions. She looked afraid now.

Why the fuck wasn't anyone doing anything??

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but looking around, I saw it was actually Rosé. "Trevor, what the fuck??"

He turned to look as if offended that anyone else got involved. How could they not? Seeing her helping me stand must hit a nerve. Because he's snatched a cup of punch from a bystander, "Why are you defending the dyke??" And he threw the cup forward, the liquid drenching my hair and splattering my dress.

That was the final straw. I could feel my chest heaving.

I ran to the nearest exit. Running from the school. As soon as I felt the cool air on my skin, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I was bent over, throwing up all the panic. Sparks of the bile dotted the bottom of my dress and shoes. I didn't care. My dress was already ruined.

I heard the door open behind me and immediately began to move again.

I tried to run, but the heels made it hard.

The person was in front of me now, hands on my face, tears streaking her face.

I expected it to be Blair.

But it was Jujubee.

"Brie, it's alright. I punched him for you." She whimpered, her hands on either side of my face, holding me tenderly.

My breathing was rugged, trying so hard to listen to her reassuring whispers. But in my head was the sound of the crowd gasping and Trevor shouting.

No one was going to forget about this. I'd be reminded by the stares in the corridors, how they'd whisper to each other.

"Let's go to my house. You can stay over if you want." Jujubee's sweet voice brought me out of my thoughts.

Words still failing to surface, I nodded.

As soon as we got in, she ran me a hot bath. Whilst I cleaned myself of the sticky punch that covered my hair and face, she made chocolate mug cakes with ice cream.

Sitting there in her room, dressed in her fluffy pyjamas, eating her food, I should have felt better. I should have been happy. But I just stared at the mug in my hand, still thinking of Trevor's anger and Blair's distressed face.

Jujubee took the mug from me, set it aside along with her own, and enveloped me in a hug. "Don't cry, Bri. Please, don't cry."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was crying." I wept.

"Don't apologise." She shushed me, "It's OK. You're OK."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2020

And even now, I didn't realise I was crying again. And as it was too late to stop myself, I remembered sobbing into Jujubee's shoulder, holding her tightly, like she was the only one who could get me through it. She was the only one who could get me through it.

The events of the prom left me scared, always so on edge when walking those school corridors. Just terrified that Trevor would round the corner and do something worse.

But Jujubee was there for me every time. She'd hold my hand, not giving a fuck about who looked at us weird.

I know I should have grown a backbone and defended myself, and what had actually happened shouldn't have been as damaging as it was. But, hey, I was only human.

Jujubee got in a lot of trouble for punching Trevor in the face. But she didn't mind. "Just as long as he got what was coming to him," she had said.

Hearing her retell the event, I wish I had been there. She had jumped on him, tackling him to the ground and punched him over and over again.

But as exciting as that all was, I didn't speak to Blair again. I didn't think about her. I didn't talk about her. I didn't even look at her. Blair wasn't the one to come after me that night. She never even approached me to talk about it. She didn't give a fuck.

So I kept my distance.

And just as life went on without her, she just had to go and message me. After years of silence, she couldn't have left well enough alone.

I finally lifted my head. I reached up and grabbed my phone. Turning it back on, I immediately deleted Messenger, hoping to never see Blair's response.

This would be the beginning of my journey toward happiness.

Yeah. That was it. That's what I would do.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #high school au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw homophobic slurs #tw homophobia

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wonderlandmind4 · 4 years

Text

Delicate Stages of Life: 24

A Piece of Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC; Platonic Steve Rogers x OFC

Summary: Life in Wakanda is filled with love, laughs, some tears, all emotions, lazy days, goats, hot springs, a soul connection, and something dark that looms over Bucky’s and Ana’s domestic bliss…

Warnings: Language. Angst. Loss, Grief. Labor pains. Non-graphic child birth.

Words: 11,820

A/N: Again, sorry for taking so long to update. This was a monster for me to write and it’s just been hard to write lately, BUT, this chapter jump starts the last phase of the Drabbles... (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first) beautiful moodboard by @afewmarvelousthoughts and thank you for all your help and tears and yelling at me. I’m sorry! <3 **I have never given birth, just going off experiences of mothers I know**

Holidays: 29 weeks Dec 13th:

One morning Ana wakes up to a solid kick from inside her stomach, rapidly blinking at the odd light streaming through her window. After she carefully sits up, soothing her hands over her round belly, she blinks again, startled.

Snow. It had snowed sometime during the night and with the sight comes the realization; it’s the middle of December. Time had ticked by in muted colors to Ana that when she finally came back to herself, five months had passed. Five months since the air filled with ashes. Five months since she last touched Bucky. Five months since the absence of his soul.

Now it’s nearly Christmas. Ana can’t even remember her birthday or Thanksgiving passing. Though by the tears escaping her eyes and the ache in her chest, it’s not going to be a good day. She continues to stare out the window, the snow-covered ground and trees in the distance offer a bittersweet illusion of a perfect world. Quiet. Tranquil.

A memory invades Ana’s mind from last year. Her and Bucky snuggled together in front of a fire at Tony’s cabin, talking about a future family. She shakes the memory from her head and finally gets out of bed, ignoring the very real feeling of Bucky’s arms around her. Ignores the phantom scent of his breath and the spiced apple toddy he drank that evening.

Waddling her way to the kitchen with her hand supporting an ache in her lower back, she spots a blessed pot of coffee freshly brewed. Ana hasn’t had such a desperate urge for the taste of coffee in so long, that she nearly drops the mug she pulls from the cabinet in haste. Once she’s poured herself a generous amount, she inhales deeply. The nutty aroma sending her mind straight back to the first day she met Bucky, and all the sessions that followed.

She revels in memory, when she was proud of herself for pulling a smirk out of the infamous Bucky Barnes after she told him she didn’t poison the coffee. How they starting to bond over silly conversation of coffee, how he used to tease her but ask how to make it properly. How Bucky would sometimes show up before her, waiting for her to arrive with coffee in hand. Ana is so lost in her mind, she doesn’t register the shift of air behind her.

“That’s caffeinated, and I know you are not about to drink it while seven months pregnant.”

Snapping back to reality, Ana shoots a glare over her shoulder at Steve. “Being seven months pregnant is the perfect reason to drink it.”

The sigh Steve emits makes her step back out of his reaching range, just in case. “Ana,” He draws out in mock disappointment.

“No! I need it need it, Steve,” She practically whines, clutching the hot mug to her chest. “Especially today. With the snow and these fucking memories, and Carol isn’t here to help regulate me, and my rings don’t fit right now. I just need caffeine, just this once.”

His eyes narrow. “Just this once?” He repeats incredulously. “Didn’t Rhodes catch you sneaking his coffee a week ago?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Ana shrugs, lifting the mug to her lips.

Sounds of scuffling come from the front hallway then, Ana distracted enough for Steve to finally and carefully, snatch the mug away from her hands. She makes a noise of protest, before she sees the dark green branches of a pine tree. Natasha and Rhodes carry in a small tree, with Rocket following behind them, an axe propped over his shoulder.

“What the hell is that?” Ana demands quietly, her chest tightening.

“It’s a tree,” Nat snipes dryly. “What the hell does it look like?”

They set the tree down in the living room, adjusting the stand that’s already anchored to the trunk. An onslaught of rage and heartache overcome Ana for reasons she can’t quite comprehend. Abruptly it takes everything she has not to grab the axe from Rocket, chop the tree into little pieces and throw them into the fireplace.

Holidays are meant to be joyful. Holidays are meant to celebrate with families and loved ones. Holidays are meant to bring brightness. They’re meant for the rest of the world to fade away into warmth, sparkles, the smells of baked goods.

Not this time. Ana sees nothing joyous about that tree, just the inevitable death of its needles. She doesn’t feel the warmth of the season, just the continuous frigid void in her chest. Outside, the falling snow morphs into ashes.

“Get it out of here.” Ana nearly growls, her fists clenching; the lights flicker. She can no longer look at it without wanting to scream.

“Uh, why?” Rhodes demands, crossing his arms. “It’s nearly Christmas.”

“I don’t care, just get it out! I don’t want it in here! It doesn’t belong here!”

Rhodes serves Ana a look so stern, she abruptly feels like a scolded child.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to dial that back,” He commands, gesturing to her. “This is misplaced anger, and you’re taking it out the wrong way. This might not be something you want, but don’t forget, you aren’t the only one suffering through depression. And maybe if you recognized that, you’d realize a damn Christmas tree just might make everyone else forget the shit that’s happened for once.”

His words are a punch to her heart. Immediately all her anger melts from her bones as she looks at the floor. Rhodey is one hundred percent correct, embarrassingly Ana is reminded of how much she truly missed when she shut her emotions off. She hasn’t been fair or considerate of anyone for months. Just because she can’t handle a fucking tree, doesn’t mean she can force anyone else to do the same.

Her throat burns with that wake-up call; the flicker stop flickering. Ana slowly gathers herself, breathes deeply while stroking her hands over her stomach to soothe herself. The baby moves and rolls in response. Finally, she nods.

“You’re absolutely right,” She concedes, meeting his eyes once more. “I’m sorry I snapped. I just…I’m just not in the mood to celebrate any holiday, but I shouldn’t expect anyone else to. I apologize.”

Rhodes stares her down a few moments before his expression breaks. “Accepted.”

The tense silence that follows is heavy and awkward, until Steve pushes the coffee mug back into Ana’s hand. “Just the one cup.”

She silently takes the mug, barely feeling the warmth of the coffee on her fingers. “I’m just going to go lay down now.”

As she makes her exit, Rhodey stops her. “Do you…need anything?” He offers kindly.

She gives him a grateful smile over her shoulder. “No, thank you.”

Steve has been distracting himself from checking up on Ana by pulling the dust covered box of decorations from storage and going through it. Oddly, a glass ornament is wrapped in newspaper, and with a delicate swipe of his fingers over the ink, he’s brought back to another lifetime eight decades ago.

Christmases during The Great Depression weren’t grand; far from it. Memories of Steve stuffing his shoes with old newspapers to keep his feet warm- and possibly give himself a few extra inches in height- fill his head. His mother carefully wrapping handmade ornaments in those same newspapers.

A slightly dirty Bucky just back from working odd jobs here and there, holding up a turkey he received as payment. He had dragged both Steve and his mother over to the Barnes household for a rare Christmas Eve dinner.

Giggles of four little girls huddled together as they watched Steve nail their brother in the face with a slush of a snowball. A quiet night of serving his mother tea as she laid sick in bed. Yet she still gifted him fresh parchment bound together to go with the charcoal pencils Bucky got him earlier.

The memories turn melancholy as Steve remembers that first Christmas without his mother. How Bucky selflessly spent the night away from his own family, taking care of a feverish Steve, even though all he wanted to do was stay huddled in bed and cry himself to sleep from grief. Instead, Bucky pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his tattered coat and dumped some into Steve’s tea.

“Nicked it from that banker's house on the other side of town,” Bucky had shrugged, looked proud of himself before he took a swig from the bottle.

“Buck,” Steve had reprimanded weakly. Until he remembered that banker is the one who cheated on his wife and bragged about it. He had taken too big of a gulp, nearly choked and spluttered.

Bucky waited, patted his back until his airways cleared. “Did that no good, two-timer notice you?”

“Hell no,” Bucky laughed. “Guys like him deserve to have his illegal booze stolen, he’s got enough money to smuggle more. Did you take your medicine?”

Steve held up his mug. Bucky rolled his eyes, then gently pushed him over to snuggle in next to him. Not once did he ever leave Steve’s side. Instead he chatted his ear off with stories of Rebecca attempting to make her own dolls, and that one brunette, brown-eyed dame he tried to save from a sleazy man before she decked the guy square in the jaw.

“I’m sweet on her now. Whatty’a think, Stevie? Think I’ve got a chance with a dame like that?”

(Steve huffs a laugh when he remembers that bit. Bucky always did have a type; it’s no wonder he fell for Ana so quickly.)

"Nah,” Steve said through a cough. “A girl like that wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

“Punk.” Bucky rubbed his knuckles atop his head.

“Jerk.” He weakly shoved him in retaliation.

Silence fell between them; sleep quickly took over Steve’s tired and sick body. He had slid further down the bed, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin.

“Thank you, Buck. For being here.”

Bucky took a minute to respond. “Didn’t want you to be alone during the holidays. With you til the end of the line, pal.”

The light pitters of something wet hitting the newspaper brings Steve back to the present. A few dark drops absorb into the paper before he realizes he’s crying. He hastily wipes the tear off his face, clears his throat and wills away the pain in his heart. Steve gets it. He understands why Ana reacted the way she did.

Shaking his head to clear his past, he rewraps the ornament and returns to his task. Once he’s done, Steve just sits in the closet by himself for a while; allows him himself to wallow. He’s absentmindedly scratching his growing beard, wondering if he should give it a shave when FRIDAY alerts him.

“Captain Rogers, the weather is a brisk 25 degrees outside, with steady snowfall.”

Frowning up at the ceiling as if the AI can see him, he replies, confused. “Thank you? Is there a reason you’re giving me a weather report?”

He swears FRIDAY sigh. “Mrs. Barnes has been sitting out for-“

“Got it, thanks.” Steve cuts her off, yanking the door open. He knows exactly where Ana is.

As he quickly makes his way through the compound, Steve apologizes to that younger Bucky during the all those winters. He recalls his exasperated best friend every time Steve hid out on rooftops and fire escapes after getting into fights. Every time, Bucky had been there with Steve’s coat, or just taken his own coat off to wrap around Steve’s scrawny little shoulders instead.

“Christ, Stevie, your lungs ain’t gonna work anymore the longer you stay out here, punk.”

When Steve climbs through her window, and finally opens the door to the roof, the irony isn’t lost on him. Ana is sitting on the furthest chair, staring out into the frosted woods, snow catching in her long hair. Only a thin blanket over her lap protects her from the cold and the biting wind from the height of the deck. Her hands are protectively cradling the bump of her stomach.

“Ana, what are you doing out here?” Steve questions, briskly walking to her. He places the jacket he found in her room over her shoulders; one of Bucky’s jackets. “You’ll freeze your toes off.”

“You’ll freeze your damn toes off, and I will not explain to your Ma why her son got frostbite.”

He wraps an arm around her, pulling her into his side to share his body heat with her. The old memories of Bucky practically yanking his asthmatic self into a slightly warmer building fade away.

“This is where we kissed the first time,” Ana reminisces, a quiet reserve to her voice. She points adjacent to them. “Right there, when I said those triggers words, he kissed me.”

Steve remembers when Bucky couldn’t stop pacing in his room after that night, panic stricken because he didn’t know how to process his feelings for her. He couldn’t understand how she put so much trust into him. Steve squeezes her shoulder, hoping to offer her some comfort.

“This is where Bucky told me he loved me for the first time. Up here, with pizza.”

His chest feels hollow realizing how many memories this rooftop holds for her. “C’mon honey, it’s not good for you to be out here, let’s go back inside. Warm you up.”

“Nothing is ever going to be the same,” Ana laments as if she didn’t hear him. “Holidays, birthdays, celebrations. Life.”

“Yeah.” Steve exhales wearily.

“I knew this. I knew all of this, but…for months I acted like I was the only one holding onto this grief so heavily. I’ve lost everyone, Steve. I’ve lost my whole family and I never thought I could feel more pain and grief than that. But I was wrong, this is so different. Because I could feel him leave me. I could feel Bucky��s soul rip from mine.”

“It’s incredible, Stevie. I can feel her all the time, like her life energy is this infinite sunlight around me.”

He sees that day clearly when Bucky had said those words to him. He remembers the look of pure awe and adoration on his friend’s face that day. Steve squeezes her closer, offering his comfort in the cold bitter air. Something wet falls onto his shirt, soaks in quicker than the snowflakes. He lifts his hand, gently wiping the tears off her cheeks before the cold can freeze them there.

“Hey now, Steve, c’mon. No tears, they’ll freeze on your face, pal.”

Steve swallows back yet another whispered memory, when he was frustrated the neighborhood bully just kicked his ass no matter how many times Steve got back up.

“Your pain isn’t invalid, Ana,” He tells her delicately, lifting the sleeve of the jacket to dry her face. “That is something none of us will ever begin to comprehend, that connection you both shared.”

“Maybe not,” Ana sniffs, “but that shouldn’t erase anyone else’s pain in my mind and that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“Watching you turn off your emotions was- fuck, it was haunting. It was scary because we couldn’t tell if doing that was just hurting you instead. I hated that you did that, but I also understand why you did. I think we just-“ Steve pauses to gather his words properly.

Ana speaks up before he does. “I’ll never be able to express how sorry I am for shutting everyone out, for acting like- well...like a cold hearted-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Steve chastises firmly. “I think we just wanted to have any ounce of your old self back. We were all concerned.”

“I’m still trying to find that myself,” Ana sighs, voice cracking; she sounds exhausted. She tilts her head to the side, leaning on his shoulder. “I got mad about the tree because the memories of last Christmas are perfect. It was our first one together, did you know that? Our first time celebrating the holiday season. I don’t want to celebrate anything.”

“So, keep the eggnog away from you then?” Steve quips lamely. Ana winces and gags.

“Fuck no,” She picks her head back up. “I don’t think the baby’s palate will tolerate that.”

“And I don’t think the baby can tolerate the cold much longer,” He counters. “Let’s get you inside.”

Steve drops his arm in favor of carefully helping up from the chair. Ana winces again, her hands covering her stomach. Pain flashes over her face for a moment, and panic shoots through Steve’s chest.

“Are you okay? What was that?” He asks worriedly, hand hovering along her back.

“It's fine,” She pants, waving him off with her hand. “Just some pressure is all. Little Bean’s running out of room I think.” Relief shags Steve’s shoulders. Until- “The baby is moving a lot. Do you want to feel-?”

“I’m good. That’s not, uh, it’s kind of intimate. Time to go inside.” Steve ignores her bewildered look and focuses on guiding Ana down the stairs safely. He keeps Bucky’s jacket wrapped tight around her.

The memory of last Christmas spent snuggling close with Bucky in front of a fire and talking about their future mocks Ana. It was one of those perfect moments in a lifetime, and she didn’t want to tarnish the memory with this Christmas being...widowed. Alone and 7 months pregnant.

Since Rhodey’s harsh truth, Ana has kept any bitter despair to herself. However, she did allow herself one moment of a Christmas song. It made her smile briefly, before a memory of both Bucky and Tony singing at the top of their lungs as they decorated the tree cut it short.

Ana does not want to decorate the tree. She stays in her room, until Rocket barges in, trailing a bunch of silver tinsel in his wake.

He demands to know, “Who was the asshole to make such a messy infuriating thing to put on a damn stupid tree!?”

Nebula stood at the doorway, a murderous expression on her face as she fights with several pieces of tinsel, static making it cling to her. Ana can’t help the surprised laugh that bubbles out of her at the both of them.

Vaguely, in the back of her mind as Rocket drags her out of her room demanding to untangle the tinsel, Ana thinks the two might have planned it all. She’s exhausted by the time she unknots the stuff, focusing more on the silver plastic and quietly refusing to put anything on the tree.

By the time she’s done, she waddles back to her room, Natasha close behind. All she does is hand Ana a hot mug of cider and snuggles in close. Nat talks to and gently pets her hands over her stomach and promises the baby to teach them her “death by thighs” move one day. Ana drifts off to sleep, head tucked under Natasha’s neck.

When Christmas does come around, it’s with stinging emptiness, of several people missing and the weight of the whole world grieving. At breakfast, as she’s slowly eating, Ana finds herself with a small pile of gifts next to her on the table. Her glare prompts a response from Steve who had given her one more.

“You stayed locked in your room for your birthday last month,” He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You aren’t having a baby shower. Just accept them. Please?”

Most gifts end up being for the baby anyway, including a crib, so Ana lets it slide and quietly thanks them.

She ends up fighting back tears the longer she stays out in the living room, desperately wanting to escape. She’s exhausted, down to her bones, and the aching in her chest throbbing Bucky’s name hurts more and more. She closes her eyes and breathes, flexing her fingers and smoothing her hands over her stomach. The baby kicks and moves before it settles a few moments later.

Someone sits next to her, and she doesn’t have to open her eyes to tell that the stupidly large and warm bicep pressing against her own arm is Steve. He doesn’t say anything, just simply takes hold of her right hand, and squeezes.

He doesn’t let go, and despite the prickling of tears behind her eyelids and the trembling of her lips, Ana leans her head against his shoulder. The sense of comfort seeps into her own energy, and soon after she falls asleep.

30 Weeks Pregnant:

Just on the verge of her eighth month, Ana hears Natasha’s irritated sigh, as she munches on a slice of mango pizza.

"Ana, I swear if you don’t stop nesting in the office, I will throw away all the mangoes and you’ll be stuck with mushrooms for your pizza topping from now on.”

As Natasha Romanoff threats go, it’s rather mild. She shrugs as Nat holds up two files as proof.

“It was messy!” Ana defends, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Lucky you’re pregnant,” She grumbles.

“Enhanced hearing, remember?”

Natasha glares at her. “It took me an hour to find my notes. Why don’t you organize Steve’s shit? Or Rocket’s? I haven’t seen you in Nebula’s room, go nest in there.”

“Nebula would cut my hand off, pregnant or not.”

“It’s true.” Nebula speaks up with her husky low menacing voice, pizza slice in hand. Ana raises her eyebrows at her. She pauses. “Maybe.”

Ana beams. Natasha huffs, coming over to join them. She bends over to gently pat Ana’s belly. Which has grown even more in the past weeks, but dropped as well, the baby’s head sitting lower.

“Your mama better name you Natasha after I put up with her little tendencies huh little one?” Nat coos.

“That’ll go over well if Bean is a boy,” Ana jokes, also patting over where she thinks its little foot is. There’s a responding nudge, a rather firm one. Ana frowns. “Sassy.” Natasha chuckles, then steals Ana’s slice. “Hey!”

“Now someone’s hand will be chopped off,” Nebula inputs at the scene. Ana nods with a pout.

“What are you going to do? Waddle after me with your swollen ankles?” Nat teases.

“You’re being mean to me,” She whines, but can’t keep the smile off her face.

Neither can Nat. “Then keep your nesting habits away from my files, Barnes.”

Ana steals the slice back. “I also reorganized your knives.”

That earns another glare. “So, so lucky you’re pregnant.”

It’s rare, these little moments of teasing and humor. Five months have passed since The Snap, and Ana’s grief and pain are still as crushing as ever. Her dreams remain constant. Dealing with feeling her emotions again has become a little easier, but there are days where she feels shattered by them, and cries into her pillow, or the nearest pair of arms.

Lately, it’s been Natasha. But these moments are what helps get Ana and everyone else through the day. Hour by hour, day by day, week by week. She has also been keeping herself in check and trying to be attentive to everyone’s feelings around her.

“Has Steve woman upped yet and felt the baby kick?” Nat wonders. The red roots of her hair are growing back faster now.

“No…He’s still a little creeped out,” Ana yawns. “It’s kinda funny.”

Humming, Natasha suddenly stands up. “Time for your checkup, let’s go.” Groaning, Ana shoves the last bits of her pizza into her mouth. “Come on. It’s one of the last ones before your due date.”

Ana shimmies from her rather comfortable spot on the couch to the edge, taking a deep breath and readying her swollen ankles to stand. Both Natasha and Nebula carefully grab an arm and help Ana up, keeping her steady until she can stand on her own. An odd sort of pressure throb through her stomach, and she frowns, suddenly thankful she does have a checkup today.

Three days later has Ana gasping awake from her dream. This time she swears she feels ashes slip through her fingers. Brings her right back to that horrid day in Wakanda, when she couldn’t reach Bucky in time. The same constricting feeling settles in her chest, and the room begins to feel hot; a golden orange glow briefly emits from her clenched hands.

Before her powers can lash out, Ana moves the best she can, hurriedly grabbing one of the beads. It only takes a few moments to get a video up, but the second she hears his voice, her heart begins to settle. The glow fades, and the rattling in the room that had started ceases.

Bucky’s timbre soothes her, replaying his lullaby twice more. On the third time, Ana pauses the recording, the projected image frozen on Bucky’s sweet face. The gentle fondness in his blue eyes, the slightly crooked smile, his long hair pulled into a bun, his beard just a touch unruly.

She remembers this day precisely; one of the last days Bucky sang to her stomach, to their child. No matter how many times Ana reminded him that the baby couldn’t hear him yet, he never cared.

It never stopped Bucky from randomly moving from one spot -be it the couch, bed, another room, the hut- to wherever Ana was and kept singing. It never stopped him from dropping to his knees as she made another strange snack she was craving in the kitchen and nuzzling his face against her barely there bump. Never kept him from staying up as she fell asleep to his words whispering lovingly against her skin. Feeling his warm breath, his sweet lips, his soft beard, his gentle caress of his fingers over her stomach. Feeling his heart, his love, his soul.

“I can hear it. The heartbeat.” Bucky would tell her, voice thick with emotion.

She hasn’t felt Bucky for months.

Ana reaches out like she does in her dreams, fingers curving over his holographic jaw. She keeps her touch delicate, as to not distort the image. In this moment, only for a moment, she pretends she can feel him. Pretends that her husband is truly looking back at her.

“I’m sorry, Snowflake,” Ana murmurs, tears burning in her throat. “I haven’t been the same without you. I turned off my emotions. You wouldn’t have liked that at all, would you? I don’t even like myself right now.”

Ana swipes the tears off her chin with her left hand. “But I swear I’ll try to be better. I swear I will take care of our baby for both of us, and he, she- our child will grow up knowing exactly who you are and how much you loved them. I just…I miss you. God, I miss you so fucking much I can’t breathe most of the time, and it hurts.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath, tears overcome her, sobs hitching in her chest. Ana brushes her shaking fingers over his cheek, the image rippling from her touch.

“I love you.”

When she turns off the bead and the image vanishes, she weeps into her hands. Ana wipes her cheeks, attempting to calm herself. Taking deep breaths, she places the bead back into it’s safe place in the drawer. A rather sharp kick from within makes her wince, then chuckle.

“Sorry, baby. I know I’ve been crying a lot lately.” Ana says to her stomach, rubbing soothing circles over her belly. “That can’t feel too good for you either.”

Once Ana’s crying slows, she cleans her face with tissues, blows her nose, and throws the tissues away in the bin beside her bed. Just then her ears pick up a sound outside her room. Carefully standing up, she walks to the door, pulling it open.

“Steve,” Ana greets with a sigh. She shouldn’t be shocked at this point.

Steve smiles sheepishly. “You alright?”

“Yeah. How much did you hear?”

He leans against the door frame crossing his arms, his shoulders hunched. “Just the ending. Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just came by to see if you want to-“

Another kick and more movement briefly make Ana miss what he’s saying. Blowing a slow breath out she presses her hands over the spot; things are starting to get more uncomfortable.

“Sorry, could you repeat?”

He flashes her an understanding look. “Asked if you wanted to go for a walk with us. Nat and I.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Ana agrees, fighting a wince from the kicking. “Dr. Hammond suggests it now that I seem to be healthy enough. Said the walking could help calm the baby.”

He laughs under his breath. “I can kinda see why,” He says, eyes on her stomach.

“Yeah, this little bean has been more active lately,” She pauses “Steve, um, would you like to feel the baby kick?”

Steve’s eyes snap up to her. “Oh, um, isn’t that a bit personal? I mean-“ He stumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Ana rolls her eyes fondly. This is her husband’s best friend, he shouldn’t feel weird about it. She grabs his hand, placing the flat of his palm just to the right of her stomach. A few long seconds pass, Ana carefully watching Steve’s expression.

His brows are furrowed, his mouth curving down, as if he’s sad the baby isn’t moving for him. Then, the same rolling pushing movement comes once more and Steve’s blue eyes light up.

His mouth falls open slightly, a toothy smile across his lips. “Ana,” He gasps, meeting her eyes. “That’s…amazing.”

Ana can’t help but laugh, her heartache forgotten for the time being. “See, nothing to be nervous about. Kinda cool, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. This, this is your baby. You and Buck’s…” His excitement fades into sorrow. Steve lifts his other hand to the opposite side, lightly scrunching his fingers as if he’s waving in a way.

“How about that walk now?” Ana cuts the melancholy short. She’s starting to feel the energy around them changing. Steve’s energy; the same kind he has been keeping from her. “Is it nice out?”

Pulling his hands off her stomach, Steve clears his throat and nods. “Bit warmer today, 56 right now.”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“No rush.” Steve takes a step before he halts. “Are sure you’re okay, Ana?”

She gives him her most convincing smile, which is a good attempt on her part. “Yeah. Just, missing him a lot today. That’s everyday though,” She chuckles humorlessly. “I swear I’m good, Steve.”

Steve’s scrutiny lasted longer than Ana would have liked. Then he nods. “Take your time.”

The only entertaining thing about New Year’s passing was Ana sitting out on the patio, watching Rocket and Rhodey rig together a contraption to set off fireworks. Natasha sat next to her, Ana’s legs on her lap as she massaged her swollen ankles and feet under a warm cable knit blanket, sitting next to a heater. Nebula and Steve are locked in a card game, when the first firework goes off. Steve flinches then frowns. His eyes meet Ana’s for briefly, before he goes back to discarding.

As explosions go off in the sky, Bucky tightens his arms around Ana’s waist, his face hidden in her neck as he presses a kiss to her pulse. “I don’t think I’m fond of fireworks.”

Ana brushes her fingers through his soft hair, gently scratching his scalp. Slowly she uses her ability to calm his energy, soothe him deeper than a touch. “Makes sense. You are a war vet.”

“Used to hear them go off in Romania sometimes,” Bucky had confessed. “Always thought it was a sign Hydra found me. That they had bombs set around the building I lived in. It was something I could never shake.”

Another one goes off in the distance; Bucky inhales her scent, his hands clutching her skin. Ana catches Tony walking by. “Tony, I thought no one was allowed to set off fireworks up here.”

He catches on quickly, pointing his glass of whiskey towards Bucky. Ana nods, then with an annoyed flare, he says, “Those damn kids. Goodie! I felt like chewing someone’s ear off tonight. I’ll call them!”

Bucky snorts, then sighs in content as Ana continues to relax his nerves with her powers. “They’re pretty, but...too loud.”

“I got you, Snowflake,” Ana promised, pulling up the blanket to cover them both and hide them away.

“I know you do, Annie Doll,” He breathes sleepy. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen though.”

Ana chuckles, kissing the tip of her husband’s head as he drifts off to sleep. She can’t think of a better way to bring in the new year than Bucky feeling safe enough in her embrace to fall asleep, even with the ghosts that still haunt his past.

POP!

Another firework glittering in the winter sky rips Ana out of her memories. She catches the small wince of broad shoulders.

“Hey guys,” Ana calls out to Rocket and Rhodey. “I don’t think the baby is fond of fireworks right now. Do you mind if you stop please?”

Rhodey acknowledges her meaningful look, beginning to replace the ones he took out. Rocket shrugs, turns off the machine they built with a wide grin.

“I just wanted to see if I could build it. I did, now I’m bored.” He states, then meets Ana’s eyes.

“How’s about we beat these losers at a game of poker?”

“Deal.”

Ana only lasts two rounds of poker, before Steve is helping her settle into bed. He insisted on following her and carrying her hot tea for her. She adjusts her body pillow and gets comfortable, tapping her hand over the lower part of her stomach where the baby settled with her.

“Thank you,” Steve says, pulling the comforter up for her. “For the fireworks. I know you did it for me.”

“Bucky and I,” Ana begins, pausing only to push past the lump in her throat. “We stayed at Tony’s cabin during the holidays. I don’t think he heard fireworks go off in a while, and out in the woods you aren’t allowed to bring them or set them off. Some neighbors did, and he was nervous about them. I calmed him as much as I could.”

“He never told me that,” Steve says, frowning. The look he gives Ana though, makes her feel bashful. His features soften, and he almost looks...happy. “He was always so in love with you, Ana, before he even knew it. Bucky wasn’t one to ever open up to anyone, even when we were kids. Watching him with you…I’m glad he found you.”

Ana sniffs, rubbing her eyes to stop the tears welling up from falling. The empty ache in her chest is a permanent feeling.

“Sorry, too much Bucky talk. You were having a better night, I shouldn’t ruin it.” Grabbing her hand, he gives it a firm squeeze.

“It’s alright. I just...didn’t want you to feel that same way.” She squeezes back.

“Get some sleep, Ana.”

As she relaxes, her body ready for said sleep, she says, “You too, Steve.”

It’s one of her better days; Ana sleeps through midnight, but the haunting call of her name still echoes through her mind. Her soul still screaming for its other half.

The week following the new year is slow, as if 2019 wants to remind them of half the universe gone. However, Ana’s panic slowly begins to build as she realizes there’s just over a month of the baby arriving.

She’s sitting in the room they decided to turn into a nursery -the room right next to hers- slowly stroking her hands over and over her round stomach. Looking around the room gives her mixed feelings.

A part of her seems to be happy, almost excited to be a mother. The other parts outweigh the joy, however. The bare walls, void of any decorations, makes her heart break. The dark wood of the crib and the changing table makes her seethe. The little animal mobile above the crib breaks her. The mobile hangs an orange fox, a gray owl, a brown bear, and a white wolf.

Pushing herself off the rocking chair, Ana grabs the wolf and tears it off. The whole mobile comes down, crashing into the crib, but the wolf is clutched in her palm. She stares at it, anger boiling in her blood for reasons she can’t explain.

The harder she squeezes, the brighter her hand becomes. Flickering lights throw the room into shadows, over and over. Smoke is beginning to emit from the little wolf, her chest tightening as the edges singe.

“I leave for, what, three weeks, and here you are literally starting fires in your hands.”

Ana snaps her head up. Carol Danvers is standing in front of her, amusement dancing in her eyes instead of any reprimandation. Carefully she places both of her hands over Ana’s fist, and all her raging energy subsides. She hadn’t been aware of anyone coming into the room, so focused on the white wolf.

Quickly pulling her hand out of Carol’s, Ana slowly uncurls her fingers. Sitting in the middle of her palm are the remains of the wolf, completely incinerated. Panicking, she drops it, the tiny ashes caught between her fingers.

“Oh my god,” Ana whispers, horrified at herself.

“Hey, Barnes, I’m sure it's fine,” Carol tells her gently. “They can get you another one.”

“You-you don’t understand,” Ana shakes her head frantically. Ash. Ashes on her hand, her fingers, ingrained in her skin. “I-I have to wash my hand. I have to wash my hand!”

“Come on.”

Carol guides her out of the room, a steady hand on her back, and into the bathroom. Ana proceeds to scrub her right hand at least four times, and once again until her skin feels raw. She feels out of breath afterward, reaching for Carol once more.

“Can you take some deep breaths for me?” Carol coaches, helping her sit on the edge of the tub.

Ana huffs. “I’m trying. I-I can’t. No! Don’t touch me! What if…what if I hurt you? Like I hurt Steve?”

“Look at me, Ana. You are fine, you’re okay right now. You just got worked up and that’s okay.” Carol keeps firm eye contact. She attempts to hold her hands again, this time Ana allows her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You aren’t going to hurt me or anyone else.”

Finally, Ana gets a deep breath in. She regulates her breathing with help from Carol, until she feels like her senses and energy are no longer overstimulated. Once she’s calm, they leave the bathroom and head outside to the bac deck at Ana’s request. The chill of the air clears her head more as she sinks into a chair.

“It was a white wolf,” Ana tells Carol. Her silence is a cue to elaborate. “My husband...Bucky. He was given that moniker while he was recovering in Wakanda. He told me they sort of adopted, well, accepted him into their family, their culture. King T’Challa told me it also meant strong warrior.”

“That why you tore it off?” She guesses.

Ana shrugs, thinking it over. “I think I was already feeling too many emotions. I saw it, it reminded me of him and how- how everything in that room, we didn’t pick together. Hell, I barely picked anything in that room. I really appreciate Pepper and Nat setting it up, but we couldn’t do it together.”

Danvers remains quiet again, but Ana is grateful for it. She’s pretty good at reading how Ana is feeling, and her silent support is more appreciated than she knows. Ana’s energy always seems to stay dormant every time Carol is close. It’s something interesting to look into later.

“Where have you been?” Ana asks after some time.

During this time Steve found them after FRIDAY alerted him and gave her a thick blanket to keep warm. He stayed long enough to turn on the heaters, then left the women alone, but quietly thanked Carol in a nod Ana caught.

Carol sighs, slumping in her chair and propping her heels on the table. “Other planets. Some are worse from the repercussion of what that purple scrotum sack did. Been getting a lot of hits on my radar. I came back to bring you more elixir in case you needed it. And to check in on my favorite avenger.”

“M’not an avenger but Nat’s in the shooting range. Nebula is...I don’t know what she’s doing but I’m afraid to ask sometimes.”

She snorts. “So, should I not get you a stuffed wolf when the baby is born?”

Ana flicks her off, but Carol’s resounding laugh brings a smile to her face.

When Pepper calls two days later, Ana can’t help but feel something odd about their conversation. As they chat about pregnancy, (”It’s like every ten minutes, Pep, I have to pee every ten minutes!”) Ana asking for any advice her cousin may for her upcoming labor, something continues to feel off. Especially when Pepper drops Tony’s name three times. The mention of him causes her to remember something about FRIDAY.

“Oh!” Ana perks up. “Has FRIDAY informed you of anything about me? Or to-”

A little voice pops up in the background, begging for a snack. “One second, sweetie,” Pepper says to her daughter, then back to Ana. “She just tells me your vitals sometimes.”

“That’s it? She doesn’t ask you for permission to use a security protocol?”

“I- Morgan, be patient please, I’m making it now. Sorry, Ana.”

“It’s fine. I was just wondering why T- um...FRIDAY would feel the need to program an added feature.”

“What are you trying to ask?”

“I just...why would someone need to add an electric defense mechanism-”

“You know what?” Pepper cuts her off, exasperated. “I’m tired of being a go between. I have a toddler to raise who is currently trying to cut her own grapes, and I can’t deal with this right now. I love you, but if you want to know why, you need to ask him yourself.”

“Pep, what are you-”

“This riff between you two has gone on long enough. Talk to each other. I already have one child, I don’t need to raise two more. Speaking of which, you need to tell him. Here!”

“Wait, no!” Ana’s shout disturbs Rhodey from reading his book.

He casts a curious glance her way. She frantically shakes her head, though Pepper can’t see her. Rhodey has now put down his book, mouthing an over dramatic what? Before she can let him know what is about to happen, it happens. There’s a shuffling on the other side of the line, followed by a confused yelp.

Quickly pressing the phone to her chest, she looks over at Rhodey in panic. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms; a sign of him agreeing with Pepper after he caught on. Taking a few calming breaths, Ana puts the phone back to her ear.

“-think the line went dead,” Is what she hears on the other side. Tony’s voice.

Heartbeat kicking up several notches, Ana braces herself. “I’m- I’m here.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. “Hello.”

He sounds like he’s meeting a CEO of a company he dislikes. As if he would rather be anywhere else than speak with her.

“Hey, uh, hi. H-how are your day?” Ana cringes, wishing the ground would cave from under her. How are your day? Why is she so nervous to just speak with him!

“Good, great. If that was a question.” Tony answers, his voice is carefully calculated. “How are your day?” He repeats.

If she wasn’t feeling so guilty, so anxious, she may have laughed. Instead, she decides to get right to it. The sooner she tells him, the sooner she can end this painful phone call. “I have something to tell you.”

“Pepper mentioned.”

Right. Fuck, if she didn’t answer her phone, this wouldn’t be happening. Maybe Ana would have been fine with never telling Tony, and he would just have found out some other way. She just knows, deep down, how hurt he might possibly be.

She has never kept anything from Tony for as long as she knew him. With the way they left each other five months ago, well, telling him something he hadn’t known for this long could just drive the wedge between them even deeper.

Ana opens her mouth but all that comes out are tiny sounds of words dying on her tongue. She closes her mouth, eyes shifting to Rhodey, who nods encouragingly. Ana gathers herself once more, swallows her hurt and any pride she may have.

“Tony,” She finally says.

“Yep?” His response is quick; a tone Ana knows all too well. It’s the tone he uses to mask his own hurt.

“I-I should have told you sooner, but-” Inhale. Exhale. It shouldn’t be that hard to tell him this. Tony had been with her through some of the hardest events in her life. Suddenly not telling him feels like she insulted him personally.

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence that stretches lasts so long, Ana has to check if the line went dead; it didn’t. “Tony?”

“How far? Five months?” Tony finally speaks up. He sounds distant.

“Eight.” The word comes out as a whisper. “I’m eight months along. 34 weeks.”

“Had an inkling. Do you want a congratulations?”

Ana feels like she was just slapped in the face. Tony doesn’t sound angry, just neutral, but even so, the words sting more than she ever thought they would. Her eyes prickle, her vision gets blurry. She clears her throat, turning her back on Rhodey so he doesn’t see her reaction.

“No, no, it’s fine. Just wanted you to know.”

“Girl, boy?” He asks.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Going old school, I see.”

“I just...I figured it was time to tell you,” Ana’s voice trembles. Her heart is aching, like she just ripped a band-aid from a gaping wound she forgot about. “I’ll let you-”

“Is it healthy?” Tony abruptly cuts her off. “Are…are you healthy?”

The question catches her off guard. “I- yeah. Um, there’s been some emotional stress and bed rest incidents, but otherwise, we’re healthy.”

“Good, good. That’s good. It’s late, you should go, rest.”

“Oh, okay.” Ana says weakly, feeling drained and disappointed. “Yeah. Um, have a good night.” She pulls the phone from her ear to hang up, then hears Tony call her name.

“Ana.”

She quickly holds the phone back up. “Yeah?”

“Will you let me- let us know? When it’s time?”

Ana can’t be too sure, but she thinks she picks up a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Yeah, I will. I’ll tell you.”

Another beat of silence passes. “G’night, kid.”

The nickname feels bittersweet, but maybe it’s a step in rekindling what she ruined of their relationship. “Goodnight, Stark.”

After she hangs up, a firm yet comforting hand squeezes her shoulder. “You good?” Rhodes checks.

Nodding, Ana shoots him something close to a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I just...I think I miss him. I do miss him.”

“You should have told him that. I know he misses you too.”

“Maybe...next time.”

Just those few minutes of that conversation has left Ana exhausted. She decides to take a nap, hoping that maybe sleeping will ease the ache on her chest.

Annie

Pain abruptly pulls Ana out of her sleep, ripping away from that dream world. She stares at the ceiling in confusion, wondering what exactly hurt enough to wake her up. Minutes pass, her eyes closing as she’s on the verge of falling asleep yet again, when the second wave hits.

“Oh fuck!” Ana yelps, her hands flying to her stomach. “F-F-FRIDAY, am I having a contraction?”

“I cannot be 100% accurate,” FRIDAY responds quickly. “I have alerted Agent Romanoff. There is a possibility of Braxton Hicks Contractions. I suggest changing positions and counting the minutes between each one.”

Annie

A mixture of a sob and laugh escaped Ana’s lips, because of course she would hear his voice now as she hisses curses through her teeth. Oddly, the voice seems to calm her internal panic, through her pain. As she begins to sit up and shift, Natasha throws open the door.

She’s talking but Ana can’t focus on her words just yet, too busy trying to lay on her side and fight through the contracting pressure. Thankfully, Nat helps her move and settle into a new position. Too long goes by, but finally the pain stops.

“Breathe, remember those exercises,” Natasha is telling her, rubbing her back. Ana adjusts her pillows, feeling utterly exhausted. “Do you know how long that was?”

“Two minutes and 24 seconds,” FRIDAY informs them. “Twenty minutes apart from the first one.”

“FRIDAY get Dr. Hammond on the phone please.”

“Already contacted.”

Ana just shuts her eyes, listening to the slight commotion around her. The baby moves, an elbow or foot clearly unhappy about the lack of space inside her uterus. She rubs her hand around her stomach, ignoring her fear of not being ready quite yet; it’s too early to give birth. Ana begins to wonder how Bucky would have handled this.

Instead of feeling sad, a small smile spreads across her lips. Imagining someone like Bucky who was usually pretty calm and level-headed in most situations, his longtime soldier status the reason for that, would probably be panicking. Considering how he always acted any time Ana was in pain or discomfort.

“You look like a crazy person smiling like that.”

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to call a pregnant woman crazy?” Ana mumbles, cracking her eyes open to see Rocket smirking at her. “Are you so starved for entertainment you wanted to see what potential childbirth is like?”

Rocket shrugs, smirking. “Once I convinced some jerk the only way to smuggle his gun off Contraxia was to shove it up his ass. This isn’t as fun.”

A chuckle escapes her mouth, and suddenly the pressure she’s been feeling in her lower abdominal eases away. Ana heaves out a deep, long breath. Rocket’s smirk morphs into concern as he reaches out to gently pat the back of her hand.

“Can I confess something?” She whispers to him. He steps closer, tilting his head down. “I’m not ready yet.”

Rocket leans closer. “If you want to know my opinion. I think you got this.”

Then he winks as if they’re conspiring. Ana reaches out to gently stroke his ear. Rocket looks shocked at the affectionate gesture, then he relaxes, smiling like he’s proud to make her feel better.

Natasha interrupts their moment. “Ana, Dr. Hammond is on the phone. She’s on the way but wants to talk to you if you can.”

Taking the phone with her doctor relaxes Ana further. Though when she explains the severity of the pain, Dr. Hammond suggests she have a bag ready in case she does have to go to the hospital. The doctor also requests that the AI to monitor her closely and send FRIDAYs system readings be sent to her On-Call phone, just in case.

Through the night, two more odd contractions occur. Although being irregular and far apart though not any less painful, one more call to the doctor has Ana cursing Braxton Hicks contractions. Natasha stays with her the whole time, and Steve lingers by the closed door for far too long.

Sighing, Ana demands sleepily. “Rogers, just come in already, my god.”

Sheepishly, Steve enters the room, and hunkers down at the end of her bed. Ana drifts off into the same world where Bucky is always waiting for her, always barely able to touch her. When she wakes up from the clouds of ash, she slowly turns over. The sight she’s met with makes the tears in her eyes dry up.

Apparently, during the night, everyone made their way into her room. Nebula, Rocket, Carol and Rhodes all sleeping around the bed or propped up against the wall or chair. Smiling, Ana falls back to sleep.

35 Weeks: January 22nd

Over the last three days, Ana has become lethargic. She’s just so tired all the time, despite sleeping for a few solid hours. Maybe the constant trips into that dream world with the little girl and Bucky leave drain her energy more than she ever thought it would. Maybe waking up, never able to save Bucky is taking its toll, and her heart, her soul just aches. She is just so tired.

Though being eight months pregnant and having false contractions probably has something to do with how exhausted she’s been. Ana has yet to tell anyone about her dreams, or how they leave her feeling just as empty as the day it happened. Informing anyone would just lead to more worry, have them doting on her more than they already do.

Steve constantly eyes her, a twitch in his corded muscles as if he is ready to jump into action for her. He thinks he is being covert; he isn’t. Ana can still read and pick up on feelings and energies. Natasha is more inconspicuous about it, rather she just lingers in any room Ana shows up in. Nebula has taken to just drop next to her, pulling out the deck of playing cards, her dark eyes keen if Ana just shifts wrong.

Rocket chats her ear off with stories of him and the Guardians. Most adventures leave Ana clutching her big round stomach in laughter. It’s the most she has laughed in months, and she swears the little raccoon does this because she admitted she was scared to him.

Rhodes has been pulled away for more government and military business, although he calls to check in everyday. Carol keeps offering the last bottle of elixir but when Ana refuses, she just gives her a cup of tea instead. With sneaking suspicion, Ana thinks the tea is laced with the elixir anyway.

As the winter sun begins to set, its light casts an orange glow through the windows, makes the whole area look warm. To Ana, it bares too much a resemblance to her dreams. She turns to head to bed early, leaving the haunting sight of the sunset to paint the interior with its mockery. Ana grabs the mug of tea Danvers left seeping for her, turning her back on the light.

With the twist of her hips, a sharp stabbing pain shoots through her stomach. Ana shouts, dropping the mug, shattering on the floor as she doubles over in pain. This clenched pressure is more severe than the other night, Ana can’t even straighten up. She clutches the counter for balance, panting and gritting her teeth.

Annie.

“Ana!?” Someone calls in fear.

Trying to regulate her breathing, the pain slowly eases up. Ana cautiously straightens up, but the second she does, another pain zings through her lower stomach. Her fingers grip the counter so hard, the granite cracks, gives, then crumbles under her vice grip.

Strong arms wrap around her, balancing her the best they can. Ana is vaguely aware she’s being moved, but through the blinding pain, there’s an internal fear of something hurting her baby. The pain, the agony, the hurt; something isn’t right.

“Ba- the -ba-by,” Ana stammers, chest heaving, hands now clutching her stomach. Beneath her palms, she feels the baby writhe. “Fuck! It- it’s hurting.”

“What? What’s hurting the baby?” Someone demands urgently. “Call 911! Or get the jet ready! Anything! Ana. Ana, honey, look at me, can you hear me?”

All she hears is a panicked tone, firm callous hands squeezing her elbows. The baby shifts, curling and twisting in her stomach. Ana wants to reach in and protect her child, their child, from whatever is causing this white-hot agony.

She won’t release her arms from around her stomach, she can’t respond to anyone’s worried calls. She just shuts her eyes, tears stinging before they escape. She’s panting, trying to breathe but the darkness around the searing pain is almost too seductive to resist.

Suddenly, the pain stops. Ana can finally breathe in and out, in and out. Once she can inhale without any more contractions, she can finally speak.

“Something is wrong,” She breathes out, fear clenching around her heart. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just continue to breathe like you are,” Natasha urges, her voice shaky. “If you’re able to make it to the quinn jet we can fly you to the hospital.”

Bracing herself on whoever is holding her, Ana grabs at their shoulders slowly standing up. Concerned blue eyes gaze down at her, roaming over her face for any other signs of pain. Steve lifts his hand to her forehead, pressing his knuckles against her skin.

“Shit, you’re burning up. Let’s go, I’ll carry you if you can’t walk.” Steve offers, about ready to do just that.

“No,” She heaves, wincing as a lesser contraction wrecks her. She waits until it eases up. “But-but- these are too close together.” Ana gasps then, looking down at her legs, her pants soaked. “My water just broke.” She whispers, terrified. “Steve, it’s too early.”

The way those blue eyes shift from his own fear to determination soothes her terror just a little. Steve and Natasha volunteer to go with her, though Carol insists she help bring Ana up to the launch pad. As they leave, a concerned Rocket waves, wishing her good luck.

“Have fun,” Nebula pipes up after Ana is nearly out of ear shot.

“Have fun?” Rocket deadpans.

Nebula just shrugs, her hands balled into tight fists.

Arriving at the nearest hospital only takes fifteen minutes by jet. By some mercy, Ana doesn’t have another contraction or pain during the flight. Once they get her a wheelchair though, another occurs. People are talking around her as she fights and breaths through the pressured pain entering the hospital.

“Who’s your obstetrician?”

“Uh,” Ana pants, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. “Dr. Hammond.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to continue talking after that, as Dr. Hammond rushes through the doors of the floor they’re on. Grateful for Natasha taking over for filling out the remaining information needed.

“Is anyone coming in with you, Ana?” Dr. Hammond inquires, after speaking with some nurses. She looks between Steve and Natasha.

The question catches her off guard. “No! No. I-” Ana chokes up, nearly breaking down with grief because Bucky isn’t here. She feels his absence, his death more than ever. “I can do it on my own.”

Those words seem to strike a chord with Steve. He abruptly moves in front of her, bending to her eye level. Fierce protectiveness shining in those blue eyes. Steve grips her hands hard enough for her to know.

“Ana,” He begins lowly, firmly. "You don't have-"

“I’m scared," She admits. Her bottom lip trembles as hot tears finally spill from her eyes. "I’m so scared. It’s too early. What if-“

Hushing her gently, Steve carefully pushes back her damp hair. “I know, I know you’re scared right now. You can do this. I know you can. You are not alone. I’m with you, Natasha’s with you. We’re right here for you. You don’t have to do this alone if you don’t want to.”

Ana squeezes his hands as another mild contraction rolls through her. She hunches over, listening to Steve instruct her to breathe deeply. When it subsides, she looks up at him through tears.

“How can you be so sure?” She asks breathlessly.

He blinks, taking a second to realize what she means. Then his face softens. “Because you’re you. Because you’re the most determined, stubborn, and strong woman I know. You can do this. Then you get to meet your child after, and that is going to be amazing.”

Ana nods, trying her best to believe him. “Yeah, yeah you're right. I-I wish Pepper were here though.”

“We called her, she’s one her way.” Natasha pipes in, handing back the clipboard to the nurse.

"Nat,” Ana shudders out another deep breath as the baby wiggles around. Suddenly Steve’s words strike her deeper. “Will you stay with me?”

“I won’t leave your side.” Natasha promises fiercely.

Dr. Hammond jumps in then, informing Ana of a drug they’re going to give her to slow the labor, then run some tests. She instructs Natasha of a nurse coming out to bring her sanitary and protective gear for the delivery room when it’s time.

They wheel her towards another set of double doors, and that’s as far as Steve can follow for now. Before they go through, he bends over, placing a kiss on top of Ana’s head.

“You’re strong. You can do this. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.” Steve reminds her fervently.

Annie

A newfound strength enters her body. Ana can’t be certain if it was Steve giving her one last encouragement through her powers, or the voice in her ears.

Administering the drug does help slow Ana’s labor down, and thankfully she’s able to get the epidural put in. Steve is allowed to visit once she’s checked into her room and bed. Pepper gets delayed by a mild snowstorm but promises to be there as soon as she can.

Usually giving a drug to delay preterm labor to a soon to be mother works better, if the mother didn’t have a form of super soldier serum in her DNA. The drug wears off just nine hours later, as Ana found out as she awoke with more intense pains. Before she knows it, it’s time.

“Ready?” Dr. Hammond questions as she settles between Ana’s legs.

Frantically Ana shakes her head, scrambling to find Natasha’s hand. Nat grabs her hand with both of hers, leaning close to her head. It’s still too soon. What if something goes wrong? What if her powers act out? Oh god, what if baby doesn’t survive?

Natasha’s soothing voice in her ear encourages Ana as she pats the back of her hand. Listening to her words as the doctor and nurses prepare behind her propped-up feet, begins to calm Ana just a little. She swears she feels Nat’s steady, relaxed energy seep into her.

Instructions to push when necessary are relayed to Ana, but as she screams and shouts through gritted teeth and crushes Natasha’s hand, she has to. When the pushing starts, the lights in the room glow brighter. They begin to flicker, the room fading in and out of darkness. A golden hue shines around Natasha’s hands clasps over Ana’s. Her friend calling her name is slowly fading away, as she begins to fall under water.

Annie

She hears the muffled concerned voice of the doctor; something is wrong with the baby. Ana fights to stay awake. Fights to give her baby a chance because if Ana fades away now, will she take her child with her?

No. She refused to let that happen. Pushing with all her might, she channels what she has of her own energy through her blood, her body, to her child.

Annie

The voice beckons to her again. Over and over; a haunting echo of a lullaby. Ana stops fighting, allows the darkness of a faded loving caress to pull her in. She hears cries fill the room just as her world goes black.

Stillness. Quiet. Serenity.

The absence of sound slowly pulls Ana up from the ground. As she stands there, her mind void of any thought, she stares ahead at the endless horizon. An invisible grip tugs from inside her chest, her feet moving of their own accord. She moves through the glassy sea, ripples spreading out with each step.

Blinking to awareness, Ana is face to face with a dark wooden door.

A small touch wraps around her left hand. Looking down, she sees that same little girl; her beautiful green skin, the markings on her cheeks, her red-brown hair. It’s her big eyes that gaze up at Ana that always reach into her heart. Ana closes her fingers around her little hand.

“Where am I?” Ana inquires, her voice quiet echo.

The child smiles. There’s something sad about it. “I think you know.”

Casting a glance around at the horizon of every way, she nods. “What is your name?”

The girl pauses, but only for a moment. “Gamora.” It’s then she releases her hand and steps back. “You aren’t here for me though. That’s okay. I can wait.”

Perplexed, Ana asks, “What do you mean?”

Without answering, Gamora holds her arm out to the door in front of them. Ana shifts her eyes to the door, and what awaits on the other side. When she looks to the little girl once more for guidance, Gamora is gone. She doesn’t ponder where she could have vanished to. Ana places her hands on the door, and pushes.

Warmth blooms from her chest, as if her soul ignites within. Her heart fills with hope, with love, and with terror. Ana has been met with this same sight before. Has felt these same feelings race through her veins every time she sleeps.

Bucky stands before her. Same ocean blue eyes, same soft expression, same little smile on his lips. He takes a step forward, lifting his right hand. Ana bites her lip, dreading for when they make contact, he will crumble into ash like always.

“Hi Annie,” Bucky speaks. His voice seeping into her bones.

Despite the inevitable pounding through her chest, Ana brings her own hand up. Slowly, she reaches for him, the warmth of his hand erases any fear. Bucky intertwines their fingers together, his smile widening. Ana moves closer, squeezing his knuckles. When Bucky remains solid and firm in front of her, tears fill her eyes.

“Bucky.” His name leaves her lips on a sob.

Her husband gently cups her cheek with his left hand, the cold of his metal palm sending goosebumps all over her skin. Ana presses her lips to his hand, holding onto to this moment for as long as she can. Bucky pulls his hand from hers, only to wrap his arm around her waist, tugging her to his chest. Ana grips him tight around his back, resting her ear directly over his heart that she can hear pounding in his chest.

“Are you real?” She murmurs, tears falling down her cheeks.

His soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. He leans back, delicately cups her cheek to pick her head up. Bucky connects their foreheads, eyes gazing affectionately into hers. His vibranium thumb sweeps along her cheekbone, wiping away her tears.

“I’ve always been real in your dreams, darling.”

Ana lifts her hand from his back to brush her fingers through his soft hair. “Is that what this is then? Just a dream?”

"Not exactly.” He laments with a sigh. Ana leans back, and the happiness in those beautiful eyes of his fade away. “I fear you may be here permanently if you don’t leave soon.”

“But I- I just got you back,” Ana frowns, shifting her hand from his thick hair to his cheek. The soft scruff of his beard tickles her palm. Bucky turns his head, kissing her palm. Her heat sinks then. “This isn’t real.”

Sadly, Bucky shakes his head. “This isn’t your world. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be selfish and just hold you a bit longer.”

Ana fully throws her arms around him in a vice grip, foolishly thinking if she can hold him tight enough, he can stay buried in her soul forever. His returning hug is just as hard, the pain from his grip just confusing her more. They move at the same time, finding each other’s mouth and placing a firm, desperate kiss to their lips.

“I need you to go back now, love,” Bucky gently urges, after he breaks their kiss.

“I don’t want to,” Ana cries, now clutching at his chest. “I need you.”

Bucky’s eyes suddenly fill with tears, falling over the edge and down his cheeks. For the first time Ana has ever entered this dream world, Bucky has never cried. She delicately wipes the wetness from his beautiful face. His smile breaks her heart.

“Someone else needs you now, Ana.” He tells her. Bucky kisses her forehead. “It’s time to go.”

Her chest tightens then, as if her soul is losing him all over again. Nodding as tears continue to fall, Ana wraps him up in her arms one last time, holding onto his warmth. She presses her right hand firmly over his chest, memorizing the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I love you, Bucky. James, I-I love you so much,” Ana sobs.

Bucky runs his fingers through her hair, bringing the strands up to his mouth, before letting the hair fall back into place. “You’re my heart and soul, Ana. I love you.” He gently kisses her lips. When he pulls back once more, his blue eyes shine with pride. “She’s beautiful, by the way. Take care of her, Annie.”

“She?” Ana frowns, confused.

He places his hands on her chest. “Wake up.”

Then, Bucky fades into dust.

Ana gasps.

"We got a pulse!” Someone shouts.

Ana blinks up at too bright lights, dazed, confused, abruptly cold. The commotion around her fades into the background as she slowly becomes aware of her surroundings. Her fingers scratch against stiff cotton, her damp skin making them feel too sensitive against her hands.

A dull pressure releases from her lower half, from her stomach perhaps? Her back? Her hips? Nope, it’s definitely soreness between her legs. She’s cold and sweaty, can now feel her hair sticking to her face. Her chest is heaving, her arms lifting as to reach for something.

“I don’t understand, her vitals stabilized quickly. They’re all normal, doctor.”

The minute the words break through the muffled barrier of whatever ocean she was under, is the minute she hears the crying. In a rush of sensory overload, everything crashes back to her.

Her baby. Ana just gave birth.

“Mrs. Barnes? Ana, can you hear me?” Dr. Hammond’s voice is speaking to her right.

Nodding frantically, Ana answers her hoarsely. “Y-yes. I’m fine. I-where’s my baby?”

Still a little unfocused, she misses when the nurses double check her vitals, and then, the wails of an infant come closer. Someone questions if it’s a good idea, doubts the steady condition she seems to be in. Whoever it was is shot down though, as blonde and red hair come into Ana’s vision.

“Thank, god,” Natasha breathes, her shoulder sagging. “You scared us.” She shakes her head, then smiles. “Would you like to meet your daughter now?”

Carefully, Natasha hands over a little bundle of a blanket, laying Ana’s baby on her chest. Hands works to gently tug down her gown and unwrap the blanket. It’s that first skin to skin contact, that first feel of her baby girl’s beating heart against her mother’s, that breaks Ana.

Ana cries, sobs, as she delicately holds her daughter against her chest. For the first time in a long time, her soul pulses with warmth.

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

Drabbles: Twenty-Three Drabbles: Twenty-Five

(Note: Ana’s labor/birth is loosely based off of my sister-in-laws experience.)

Tags: @thecreatiivecorner @buckyland @stressedasalways @watchoutforfrostbite @justreadingfics @keldachick @eurynome827 @elatedmarvel @shesalatesh @paintedgreywriting @buckaroo-blue @afewmarvelousthoughts @crushedbyhyperbole @shesalatesh @jaxthebookworm

#bucky barnes x ofc #Bucky Barnes x Ana #bucky barnes x ana rios #steve rogers x platonic!ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x original female character #delicate stages drabbles #delicate stages of life #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers angst #baby barnes

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shortythescreen · 5 years

Text

come over

Warning(s): NSFT/18+, friends with benefits, sex with feelings lol.

Relationship(s): Octane/Female Reader.

Author’s Notes: this was my first post on ao3 and i’m trying to actually start using this blog so. here’s the post, lmao! my spanish sucks but i understand everything, hence the ref to a meme in spanish. :)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3.

come over?

That’s what lights up your phone screen at damn near three in the morning. You roll over, squinting at the bright screen as you grab it from your bedside table. It’s one of the lamest texts you’ve ever gotten. It’s barely a step up from the even more basic ‘u up?’ and you’re half tempted to leave him on read. Octavio can do better than that.

Yet, you scroll through your compilation of gifs and send him one of a woman rolling her eyes. Sure, it’s disdainful but he now knows that you are, in fact, awake.

About three months ago, you were offered a job by Apex, the corporation running the well renowned Apex Games. The offered pay was astronomical in comparison to what you made at your humble little gig as a thorn in a journalist’s side. Room and lodging would be included in the miniature city built just for Champions and the people who made the games happen.

All you had to do was do what you do best. Take pictures.

Every advertisement, webpage, and piece of merchandise is covered with your pictures of the Legends. Those that you take in the studio given to you and those that you take off the clock. Every picture on your camera belongs to Apex, even with your signature scratched at the bottom of all of them.

Because of this, it had taken a select few Legends time to warm up to you. Others, not so much.

Octavio, better known as Octane, might as well have sat in your lap when you walked in with a camera hanging around your neck.

Though you’re a lot quieter than ‘The Adrenaline Junkie’, you have about as much impulse control as he does. So one night when he’d visited you in your studio a little past business hours, brandishing a bottle of Hennessey Black the size of your head, one thing lead to another and, well.

The events of that night lead to you getting texts from Octavio at damn near three in the fucking morning asking you to come over.

i have a box of wings and a bottle of Smirnoff with ur name on it.

You bite the tip of your tongue. The offer’s tempting.

and other things, if you can keep up. ;)

That, even more so.

Against your better judgment, you text him back with words instead of a gif. You’ll be over in ten minutes. If he drinks all the liquor before you get there, you’re leaving. You imagine him cackling at his screen because if you know him at all, and you do, he’s probably polished off at least a quarter of the bottle on his own.

Octavio’s apartment is a five minute walk from yours but you gave yourself an extra five to brush your teeth and find your shoes. The penthouse suites offered to all the Legends is right across the street from your simple one bedroom.

When you first moved in, you thought maybe Apex Corp wanted you to take paparazzi sort of shots of their competitors. They’ve never asked you to and you haven’t bothered to try, so you guess they just gave you what was available.

Whatever. You don’t mind living in earshot of some of the deadliest people in the Outlands. Especially now that you’re fucking one of them.

God, you never thought you’d be in this position. Sure, you’re not fucking blind, most of the Legends are attractive. Bangalore has a smirk that drops panties and a voice that’s a little more gravelly than the average woman. Wraith’s got the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, powers or otherwise, and her skin is flawless. Gibraltar could probably defeat half of his opponents by throwing them.

Even those that you can’t see the faces of have appeal – Bloodhound’s shroud of mystery has gained them quite the following online and what Octavio doesn’t show of his face is made up for by his stupid little crop top.

You just… Didn’t anticipate any of them finding you attractive too. Least of all the speedster with a penchant for picking up bad habits. Like fucking the photographer. You run your hand down your face as you exit your house, locking it behind you before jogging across the street to the penthouse suites.

Even if you had toyed with the possibility of warming one of their beds, you certainly didn’t think you’d wind up in Octavio’s. Maybe Elliot, who’s got a reputation for getting around, or Ajay, who’s could crush you with her thighs. Octavio, whose accent and stupid selfies had caught the attention of many Apex fans, was the last legend you expected to end up making your heart do the jitterbug-

It’s not, you’re not, you vehemently remind yourself as you enter the elevator of the Legends’ suites. Absolutely not. No way. You walk down the hallway to Octavio’s door, reminding yourself over and over again you’re most certainly not catching feelings and whatever dance your heart is doing has something to do with the lack of sleep.

Even though that makes no sense, it’s what you tell yourself, because there’s no fucking way you’re into Octavio like that. Not into someone you’re just hooking up with. Not into someone who’s only interested in hooking up.

You knock once on his door and you barely have a chance to step back before Octavio’s tearing it open. His mask is gone and even though you’ve seen his face a million times by now, you still take a moment to breathe him in. He’s got the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen, glassy with alcohol, and you notice that he’s in need of a shave, his cheeks tinted dark by pinpricks of facial hair.

“It’s three am,” you tell him.

“Yet here you are, amiga,” he smirks.

“For the booze,” you reply and he snickers, shoving out a plastic cup you hadn’t noticed he was holding. The stench of Smirnoff envelops you and you sigh, snatching it away and shouldering your way into his apartment.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” You ask, flopping on the couch and taking a large enough gulp of your cup to make your nose burn. You squeeze your eyes briefly closed, letting out a little ‘ahh’ as Octavio’s weight sinks the opposite side of the couch.

“Couldn’t stop watching The Flash. But Barry got kinda boring, so I texted you,” he says and you snort, opening one eye to glance at him. You hadn’t even noticed the title glaring at you from the flat screen only a few feet away, the only light in the apartment aside from the stove.

God, he’s so unfairly pretty. He’s resting his tousled head of green hair, the same green as his eyes, in his hand, propped up on the back of the couch. His PLUS ULTRA tattoo peeks out from the three quarter sleeved shirt he’s wearing and you go for your drink, hoping you can excuse the warmth in your chest as Smirnoff.

“Of course you were. You’re so fuckin’ basic.”

“I’m on brand.”

“You’re at home. Alone.”

“Not anymore.”

You snort, finally beginning to feel that warmth in your chest drip down into your stomach. The easy, fuzziness that comes with being here, with drinking and banter and the promise of something so much sweeter.

“Well, thanks for inviting me,” you say, “now where are those wings?”

As promised, Octavio brings you a takeout box with about thirty wings. With liquor brewing in your stomach, you probably could demolish them, but you’re barely buzzed and still willing to be polite.

It’s the wee hours of the morning, so you’re grateful that each of the Legends have soundproof walls. You and Octavio put on old telenovelas, even though your Spanish is slim to none, and he makes you laugh by describing the scenes to you.

“Oho man, she’s such a bitch. The mother basically just told the son’s lover acompáñame a ver esta triste historia.”

“I don’t speak Spanish, Oc,” you remind him around a mouthful of a wing coated in ranch.

“Remember how the girl’s parents died when she was six?” He asks and you nod your head, vaguely remembering the shitty graphics acting as flashbacks. “The son’s mother heard that and might as well have said ‘that’s cute’.”

You were right to assume Octavio had already had a hefty serving of alcohol before he’d texted you, as he brings out the bottle when your glass gets low, a little less than half of it gone. He’s got a higher alcohol tolerance than you and it’s obvious the more you two delve into the Smirnoff.

He smirks at you when you whine about the wings getting low, polishing off what must be your twelfth. You’ve officially had enough alcohol to stop being polite and Octavio loops an arm around your shoulder. When had he gotten so close to you on the couch?

“There, there,” he murmurs into your hair, “there will be wings tomorrow, mami.”

“But I want them now,” you complain, only to completely forget your train of thought as you bury your nose in the collar of Octavio’s shirt. “Fuck, you smell good. Do you always smell this good?”

“I smell like liquor,” he snickers, kissing the top of your head and you shudder as he slides his fingers through the small hairs at the base of your neck.

“And soap. What soap do you use? I bet you use Old Spice. Old Spice is so basic but it smells so fucking good,” you ramble, tilting your head just enough so that your lips brush against his collarbone.

“Gracias,” he hums, tilting his head back a smidge. You take this as an invitation and begin placing careful, open mouthed kisses up the length of his neck.

Octavio sighs through his nose, arm around your shoulders sliding down your side to pull you half into his lap. Your teeth scrape his pulse and his grip on you tightens.

“You didn’t say yes or no,” you absently mumble as he grabs a handful of your ass. He squeezes before you pull back just enough to meet those pretty green eyes of his, dark with want.

“Yeah, it’s Old Spice,” he says, then leans in to devour your mouth with his.

Octavio kisses like he moves. Quick, eager, his tongue pushes into your mouth and makes you groan. You haphazardly drape one leg over his, twisting so your chest is flush against his. He bites your lower lip and you whimper, half grinding against his prosthetic legs, cool against your heat.

His free hand sneaks down to grab your other ass cheek, pulling you up to straddle him. His lips leave yours with a pop and he bites his lower lip as you shudder against his dick jumping under your hips.

“We haven’t even started yet,” you say, allowing him to slip his hands beneath your shirt, gripping your breasts and rolling the peaks under his thumbs. You sigh, continuing, “how are you so hard?”

“How are you so sexy?” He snarks, releasing your tits in favor of grabbing the hem of your top. He pulls it off eagerly, eyes hot.

“You too,” you half beg and he obliges, tugging that snug fitting shirt over his head. You hum, hot with liquor, and with lust, and with the look he’s burning into your chest. He leans back into the couch, drinking in your disheveled state before reaching up to cruelly pinch your nipples.

You gasp, trying to lean into the sensation and alleviate the pain. Octavio only pulls harder, biting his lower lip when you’re almost chest to chest.

“Asshole,” you hiss and he grins, giving you a flash of his tongue piercing.

“You like it,” he says as you relent, going still in his lap. Octavio finally releases his almost too tight grip on one nipple in favor of looping an arm around your waist. He’s torturous to the other, squeezing, rolling, tugging. As a reward for the way you buckled, he slurps the free one into his mouth. You moan, his mouth all wet warmth and cool metal. His thumb flickers teasingly across your other pebbled nipple and you arch your back.

“Oc, please,” you pant and he pulls off of you with a pop, cupping the tit he still has a handle on to flick his tongue across it.

“Por favor? Por favor que?” He half laughs only to break off in a needy groan when you grind against him. “Fuck fuck fuck, okay, stand up for a sec.”

You roll yourself along his dick for a moment longer, relishing in the way his hips instinctually jerk against yours. He squirms beneath you, opting to tightly grab your hips.

“Shit, mami,” Octavio pants, sharply thrusting up before trying to push you off. “C’mon, c’mon, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You finally climb off him and he follows you forward, sharply pulling down your sweats. A long, sticky trail connects you briefly to them and he outright groans at how filthy that is.

“You’re so wet,” he all but whines, fascinatedly rubbing a finger between your lips. Your breath hitches as he pointedly drags his knuckle across your clit, teasing you with the not quite enough touch.

“Shorts off,” you growl, and he hurriedly obeys. His cock springs free as his shorts hit the carpet and your mouth waters. The tip is swollen and pink, leaking with excitement. You’re half tempted to get on your knees, swipe the pre up with your tongue and put him at your mercy.

“Oh, mami, yes, you can do that for me later,” he babbles, making you realize you’d said that aloud. You try to climb back into his lap, only to have him grab you by the shoulders. You yelp as he tosses you onto your back on the opposite side of the couch, maneuvering himself between your thighs.

You two have been doing this long enough to have done away with condoms and you’re so fucking grateful for that as he pushes himself between your lips. Your slick helps him along as he glides the tip against your aching, swollen clit.

“Oc,” you impatiently murmur and he smirks. Octavio is a bastard at the worst times and not even the bedroom is exempt, because he grabs his shaft and taps the leaking tip of his cock against your clit.

“How bad do you want it, hm?” He asks and if you weren’t so overwhelmed, you’d roll your eyes. You settle for propping yourself up on your elbows and thrusting your hips up. His cock catches on your hole and his breath hitches in his throat.

“That bad, huh?” Octavio breathlessly whispers and you glare at him through the fog of your lust.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quick?”

“You want it to be over? Aw, okay, guess I’ll-“

Before he can pull away, you wrap your legs around his waist and yank him against you. Octavio slips, caught off guard, and he catches himself on the arm of the couch, letting out a strangled groan as the tip of his dick breeches your swollen cunt.

“Fuck,” he grits out, suddenly unconcerned with teasing. He drives himself the rest of the way inside and you sigh, relieved to be so wonderfully full.

“I’m trying,” you gleefully counter and he sharply thrusts into you with a laugh that’s half moan.

You reach around, clawing at his lower back as he fucks into you. His elbow lands on the space next to your neck and you find his hand cupping the crown of your head, simply resting there as he fucks you like he’s trying to win a race.

Octavio moans and curses and whines just as much as you do, his green eyes squeezed shut. You rake your nails up the length of his spine and he groans, giving you an especially brutal thrust. Your mouth falls open and he takes the opportunity to sloppily kiss you, tongue pushing past your lips to twist with yours and he doesn’t taste so much like liquor anymore.

You sob into the kiss as he angles his hips down a little, hitting right there. He gets the picture quickly and he aims just so, abusing that place that makes you see stars. His hips snap into yours and you grab his shoulders for purchase. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s him, pulling away from your kiss to watch you with amazed green eyes. It’s him, grabbing your hips and yanking you onto his dick. It’s him, passing a thumb over your clit, making your eyes roll back. It’s him, hissing your name as his hips begin to stutter and shake. It’s him.

“C’mon, mami, c’mon, I won’t last,” he gasps, fondling your clit desperately and your jaw drops at the sensation. “C’mon, baby, need it, need to feel that tight pussy squeeze my dick, you can do it, do it for me, please, baby, please-“

You say his name as your orgasm hits you, shaking legs tightening so harshly around his waist you can feel every tremor of his hips. He fucks you through it, relentlessly rubbing your clit and you whimper, reaching down to try and shove his hand away. It doesn’t seem to stop him and finally with two, three more thrusts, he’s coming.

Octavio buries his face in your neck, saying something so low and garbled that you barely pick up that it was in Spanish. You don’t care to ask what he said just yet, too busy catching your breath as you clutch his back.

“Shit…” He breathes, turning his head to rest his nose against your still racing pulse. Now, though, it’s not just with need, but you don’t tell him that.

“How’s that for keeping up?” You ask and he snickers, slowly pulling out of you. Octavio reaches down, grabbing his shorts and tucking them beneath your hips to catch the spunk dripping out of you.

“I’ll go get a wash cloth,” he says as you paw at the coffee table for the TV remote. You groan at the time it shows you.

“It’s almost seven, you ass! I have to be to work in two hours!”

“Guess I kept you up all night. At least you weren’t bored.”

“I hate you,” you groan, scrubbing your hands over your eyes. Octavio snickers, making his way towards the bathroom.

“Oh, hey, wait,” you say, propping your head up. He stops short, meeting your gaze. “What did you say? I was kinda preoccupied and didn’t hear.”

“Kinda? You wound me,” Octavio says, placing a hand over his heart. You unceremoniously flip him off. “You think I remember what I said while I was nutting, chica?!”

Octavio grins roguishly. You roll your eyes, throwing one of the couch cushions at him. It doesn’t get anywhere close to hitting him and Octavio snickers, bending down to toss it back onto the couch. “Who knows?”

Octavio turns back to the bathroom and his playful expression slackens. His brow scrunches up as he flicks the light on, closing the restroom door behind him and staring disbelievingly into the mirror.

Te amo, he’d gasped into your neck when he was overwhelmed with the smell of you, the feeling of you, the taste of you.

#nsft #apex legends #apex lemons #octane #octavio silva #apex legends imagine #octane x reader #octane/reader #lemon #shorty writes #apex octane #apex legends octane #female reader

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

Text

Killer Queen

Hello my Tumblr Lovely’s!

Happy Friday and Happy Holidays to me! At last a week off work! I am off an adventure down to the South West of Ireland and I am super excited for a ‘staycation’. Won’t come back with a tan but maybe a typical Irish accent instead!

On another side note, this is the last part to Killer Queen but Robyn and Taron will be back in a few weeks on another adventure. Thank you so much for all the love and comments. It’s been another fun time for them both!

Hope you all enjoy!

Suze xx

P.S The picture of the Spice Bag does not do it proper justice but it is the closest one I could find that looks like what my local Chinese has but believe me it is one of the best things on an Irish Chinese take away menu and is so delicious!

“Because of you. "I believe I can love, and be loved with the heart.”

“Why haven’t you introduced me to this yet!” Taron said through a mouthful of chilli and salty chicken.

Robyn smiled at him as she dipped her fork into the paper bag to pull a chip out. “I am sure I have told you on many occasions that I can’t tell you all my secrets in one go. Otherwise you won’t come back and visit me again.”

“This is delicious. We don’t have these in Wales.”

“It’s an Irish thing.”

“I love everything Irish.”

“No, you just love food.”

“True.” Replied Taron as he took another piece of chicken from the bag. “But I also love everything Irish too.”

Robyn had walked him to her favourite Chinese take away in the town and ordered what she called a spice bag which was basically a brown bag filled with chips, breaded chicken strips, onions, peppers and carrots all coated in a salt and chilli spice flavouring. They took two forks with them so they could eat it as they walked but instead of going straight back to her house, Robyn directed him towards a picnic bench on the grass banks of the canal and they sat down to eat, sharing the food and a bottle of water between them.

“Taron?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you so much for the hug earlier and coming back stage. I definitely needed the hug and that’s twice now you have defended my honour.”

“And I managed to dodge the punch this time.” He added.

“Yes you did. Good reflexes.”

“And you are welcome. I think I needed the hug too. I will never let anyone take advantage of you like that Robyn. Never. No one has any right to take kisses from you, from anyone. Kisses are a gift that are willingly given.” He said as looked everywhere except Robyn’s face but he felt a cold hand on his cheek and he had to look at her. “Robyn?” He asked as she moved closer to him and carefully placed a light kiss to the right side of his lips.

“Just giving you a gift.” She said simply as she reached for the bag of food in his hands for herself. “This was a good idea. I was hungry.”

Taron licked his lips as Robyn was distracted by the Chinese and he begged his racing heart to slow down. Now was the perfect time to show Robyn what a proper gift of a kiss was but he was still so wary of what Keith had done that he wanted to be absolutely sure Robyn was ready for that moment.

“You were amazing again tonight.” Taron reached for the bag and stabbed two chips with his fork.

“I hoped the tension wasn’t too obvious.”

“Wouldn’t have known it was there if I didn’t know about it.”

“The judges from AIMs were there. I really just wanted to do the show justice and then that fucking arsehole had to fuck it up.” Robyn spat.

“You did chicken.” Taron assured her. “You have such energy on stage and this presence that you bring so everyone is caught up in your performance. You give everything you have to the songs and the way you portray your characters.”

“Well you have some experience with that Taron and know how important it is to give your all to the role you play.”

Taron chuckled. “Yeah I do.”

“I am glad your prep for the movie has gotten a little easier.”

“Me too. Getting my head around the script and Matthew’s vision has really eased some of my worries with it. It will be tough but worth it all.”

“No singing in this one though.”

He smiled. “No.”

“How will you cope?” Robyn teased him as she reached into the bag to pull a piece of chicken out with her fingers.

“Will you be sad when the show is over on Sunday.”

“Always. Probably have a tear or two as well. I get so emotionally involved and I hate saying goodbye to a character I have played. It has been the best week so far.”

“Two shows tomorrow?”

“Yep. It is probably best that you have to go back to London early. I will be pretty hoarse by tomorrow evening.”

“You hoarse and quiet? I don’t think so.” He laughed, giggling as Robyn tried to stab his hand with her fork but went for the bag of food instead. “You’ll miss Mimi?”

“Yeah.” Robyn ate the pepper she picked up with her fork. “She is fun to play. Don’t really wear hot pants and leather normally.”

“Or throw such risky dance moves around.”

Robyn chuckled. “I was waiting for you to mention those.”

“I did see a few moves that were more suited for an adult movie I think.”

“I was told to go for it and I did.”

“You definitely did. Maybe you could throw a pair of hot pants or a leather skirt into your wardrobe now that you have tried them out.”

“Sure, I will wear them to work on Monday.” Robyn looked to Taron. “Oh, you were being serious?” She half smiled. “You liked the outfits then.”

“Maybe.” He answered her, taking a drink of water from the bottle to distract himself from saying more.

“Then maybe I will think about it.”

Once they had finished their spice bag, they slowly walked back to Robyn’s house, Taron turning on the fairy lights once they were inside.

“You must be knackered Taron.” Said Robyn as she pulled her jacket off. “You didn’t have a great sleep last night.”

“I am actually ok and you are wearing my shirt again.”

“My shirt.” She countered. “We have had this conversation before. You give me your clothes, they become my clothes and returning to the conversation of sleep, let me shower quickly and we can sleep.”

Taron nodded. “Lyndsey told me I needed to sleep before Sunday.”

“You spoke to Lyndsey?”

“Oh yeah I never told you. I rang her when you headed down to the hall earlier.” Taron came to stand beside her, pulling the programme from his back pocket of his jeans and put it on the island beside her jacket. “Just to check out the photo. It was spread to the usual social media platforms but that was it. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And she told you to get some sleep. Good.”

Taron leaned against the island once he had emptied his pockets. “I told you she looks after me on tour.” He reached over and tugged on the end of the shirt tails that Robyn had tied together. “I never thought to wear this shirt this way.” He grinned.

“Take note for future styling.”

“Hey will you do something for me?” He asked as he walked a little away from her and to the drawer he knew she had a sharpie in. “Will you sign this for me?” He handed her the marker and moved the programme closer to her.

“You want me to sign this?”

“Of course.”

“But why?”

“Because I want your autograph.” Taron opened the programme to her page. “Right here.” He pointed to beside her photo. “Come on Robyn. To Taron, love you lots, your chicken.” He teased.

Robyn chuckled and pulled the lid from the sharpie and started to write a little note, keeping her left hand in the way so Taron couldn’t see, picking up the programme and blowing on the ink to dry it before she closed it, putting the lid back on the marker.

“Right I am going to go and shower.”

“I will be here.”

Robyn turned to walk away but turned back and gave Taron a hug.

“What’s this for?”

“Just trying to get some extra ones in and because I don’t think you actually realise how much your actions this evening mean to me and I can’t quite explain it in words so hugs work just as well.”

Taron returned Robyn’s hug, surprised she was lost of words. She was normally one to talk her way out of anything, to make him feel better with her words but now she was stuck with what to say and as he leaned his face into her neck, felt a little sad for her. It was crystal clear that Robyn was very much used to being by herself and strong for herself alone and she was finding it a little difficult to believe someone else was prepared to give their all for her. “Go and shower and then we will get set up for our second sleep over. I think you are tired too chicken.”

“A little.”

Taron kissed her cheek. “Take as long as you need.”

Once Robyn had left his arms and made her way to the bedroom, Taron picked up the programme and flicked to Robyn’s page. ‘Dearest Taron, thank you for being my only and number one fan, my knight in stripes and a hat and giving the best warm and cosy hugs in the world and my tent. I am glad I kissed you in Florida. My love always, Robyn xx’.

Closing the programme and with a grin fixed to his lips, he rubbed his eyes. It had been a roller coaster of a day and he was definitely ready to sleep and get his last cosy duvet sleep before tomorrow. He followed Robyn into the bedroom and hearing the shower start, knew he was good to quickly change into his shorts and a black tank top. He figured at some point during the evening he was bound to be in cuddle with Robyn and wanted to be cosy warm and not over heated warm.

Once back in the kitchen, he routed through the presses for the cupcakes and brought the full packet and two glasses and a carton of milk into the tent, smiling as he saw cwtch and draíocht still sitting and smiling.

“You two best buddies now?” He asked out loud. “Just going to have to move you both. It’s my time to sleep now.”

He picked the dinosaurs up and moved them to in front of the couch and pulled the duvet back so tonight himself and Robyn could actually sleep under it. Last night both had fallen asleep on top of the soft material but tonight he was going to get into the make shift bed and prayed it would help him sleep. His nerves for the upcoming tour were also contributing to his lack of sleep and it was normal for him to feel a little apprehensive about it all, even though he had done a promotional tour many times before. Robyn being the most popular topic of conversation lately always made him nervous as he tried not to become defensive with his answers and be factual and keep his tone light and cheery, almost by passing the topic at times but after his last few days working, it was definitely a smile instead of a frown that fill his features when he was asked about Robyn. Taron lay down on the sheet and closed his eyes, feeling completely exhausted all of a sudden. Coming to see Robyn always brought new adventures for him and these two days only further deepened if it was possible, his love for her and perhaps a little bit more hope that she loved him too.

As Robyn dried her hair, she couldn’t help the long yawn fill her whole body. She was ready to lay down in her tent that Taron had made for her and sleep. “Taron.” She sighed as she unclipped some wet hair and separated the strands, clipping one half back up again. With the brush in her left hand and hair dryer in her right, she thought about her day as she dried her hair. Her wonderfully chaotic day. Their walk on the beach that morning felt like it was days ago to her and she smiled as she remember how excited Taron was when he finally won the dinosaur from the claw machine and smiled even more when she remembered how he had asked Jane to lead him to her during the break in-between the musicals first and second acts so he could give her the most welcomed and incredibly close hug but also how he had stood up for her, again. She was slowly getting used to someone doing that for her and Taron was quickly becoming someone she knew she could depend on for anything and she hadn’t had someone like that in her life for a long time.

Finishing drying off the last section her hair, she blasted the cold air over her whole head before tiding the dryer away and getting into her new PJ’s and t-shirt, tying Taron’s top up again at the bottom so it didn’t hang so loose on her.

She strolled out into her living room and couldn’t see Taron anywhere so figured he was already in the tent. She ducked in under the opening and stopped when she saw him lying on his back, one arm above his head, one on his stomach, his eyes closed. She half smiled as she saw what he wore.

“You would think it was twenty degrees outside.” She said as she sat down beside him. She knew he wasn’t asleep. Robyn could easily tell the difference in his breathing as he slept and now it wasn’t deep enough for him to be sleeping.

“I easily over heat.” He simply replied not opening his eyes.

“You should go and see someone about that.”

“That I am hot?” He opened one eye and laughed, seeing her roll her eyes at him. “You walked into that yourself.”

“Yeah I did. You look cosy.”

“I am. So cosy I don’t want to move to give you the cupcakes and milk.”

“You brought treats into the tent?”

“Do you even know me?” Asked Taron as he sat up on his elbows. “Course I brought treats.” Taron rolled onto his knees and pulled over the cupcakes. “We didn’t get to eat these last night.” He then brought over the milk and two glasses. “A quick bedtime snack.”

Robyn moved to sit closer to him and he opened the plastic container of cupcakes and took one out and handed it to her.

“Thought you were going to smush it in my face there for a second.” She said as she carefully peeled the wrapper off.

“I did think about it but that would be waste of cake and you have just come out of the shower and I know for a fact you would get me back and get me back worse.”

“I am glad you are learning.” She replied as she took a bite from the small cupcake, Taron stuffing a whole cake into his mouth once he got the paper off, Robyn shaking her head at him.

“What?” He asked through crumbs.

“Nothing.” She said with a smile, taking another bite from her cake.

“What?” He asked again once he had swallowed.

“Nothing. You mentioned milk?”

Still not convinced with her answer, Taron reached for the milk carton and poured the two glasses half way full, passing one to Robyn.

“Thank you.”

“No worries.”

Satisfied by chocolate cupcakes and two glasses of milk, and once both had made a trip to the bathroom, they settled in the tent. Taron was concerned about leaving the fairy lights plugged in but Robyn assured him it was ok because they were LED’s and she wanted to enjoy the tent for one more night before it had to come down.

“And you have left me to take it down.”

“Your father told me he would help you take it down.”

“I might just leave it up.”

“Your father will help you.”

“I am happy to leave it up.”

“Robyn?”

“You made it for me.” She answered him quietly as she buried her legs under the duvet and lay on her right side.

“You will have to get your sitting room back at some point chicken.” Taron pulled the duvet up over his legs and copied her stance but lay on his left side.

“At some point.” She agreed getting her head comfy on the pillow. “Thank you for coming Taron and coming a day earlier. It’s been another wonderful two days.”

“Yes it has.” Taron lay down, his body a little higher than Robyn’s. “You know what you would just perfect it?”

“No.”

“Taron cuddles.”

“Ok.” Shuffling over, Robyn lay her head on Taron’s shoulder, feeling his arm curl around her while he used his other hand to pull the duvet up over the two of them. “Night Taron.”

“Goodnight darling.”

Closing his eyes, Taron knew it wouldn’t be long before he fell asleep but he willed his body to stay awake for a little while longer so he could enjoy holding the woman in his arms who snuggled deeper into his body, her head now on his chest, her hand on his stomach but surrounded by comfort, Taron soon fell into a deep restful sleep.

They were used to the journey to the airport, having made it together many times before but for some reason, there was a different feel to the atmosphere as they rode the escalator together to get to security of the departures.

“We will see each other in two weeks chicken.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Ok well can you at least pretend you are not sad?”

“Ok.” Replied Robyn.

“And yet you have perfectly acted on sage the last four nights but still can’t get that sadness from your voice.”

“I am a little sad.”

“You haven’t been sad before when we were at the airport.”

“Sure I have but obviously managed to hide it better.”

“It’s two weeks. We have gone two months before without seeing each other.”

“I know Taron.”

“What is different about this time.” Robyn shrugged her shoulders. “It’s my tour, right? Robyn please don’t be worrying about me.”

“I always worry about you.”

He smiled a little. “I know but you don’t have too.” He saw the look she gave him and his heart melted. “And you are going to call me all the time to tell me I need to sleep after you have watched my interviews even though I have told you not too.” He gently tapped her nose.

“You know me so well.”

“I do and I know you need a hug.”

“Always.”

With a chuckle, Taron pulled her close smiling as her hands went to their usual place on his lower back and neck, while he buried his nose into her own neck. “I am not used to this.”

“Used to what?” She asked him.

“Having another person care so much about me but I suppose I should be used to it by now. Been that way since Florida.”

“Yep but I am getting used to it too.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not been easy opening up and you know why but for some reason with you, I just feel so comfortable and free and I trust you.”

“You just want more cuddles.”

“You benefit from those too.” She laughed but her laughter died down. “Please look after yourself.”

“I will.”

“And enjoy every minute of it.”

“I will.”

“And it’s ok to talk about me if you have too. Don’t avoid the subject of us ok?”

“I won’t and I will.”

“And sleep.”

“I will.”

“And drink lots of water.”

“I will.”

“And smile.”

“I will Robyn.”

“And make sure you promote the arse out of this movie because I know how proud you are of it and how hard you have worked to finish it and I am proud of you too.”

“I will and I know.”

“And Taron?”

“What chicken.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Taron chuckled against her. “You done?”

“You want me to keep going?”

“Would love too but I can’t miss my flight.”

With a tight squeeze, Robyn let him go. “I have something for you.”

“I figured. You brought a bag with you and once again I have nothing for you. Breaking all the present rules Robyn.”

She smiled as she picked up the backpack from beside her. “This was an unexpected gift.”

Taron watched with interest as Robyn unzipped the bag and his eyes opened as he saw a hint of green fur, even more so when she pulled the green dinosaur from the bag.

“Robyn…”

“Draíocht is yours Taron.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She dropped the bag on the floor and held the dinosaur out to him. “I have cwtch, Rosie and Mari have theirs and this one, well this one is for you.”

“Chicken…”

“You told me that this was a girl dinosaur and because it was green it represented me. Well cwtch is you and he is mine so it only makes sense that you get draíocht and bring her home to London with you and then back to Wales.”

“Rosie and Mari will take her away from me.”

“Not when you explain about how we all have one. You need this Taron. You need to bring her with you.”

Taron took the dinosaur in his hands and looked to Robyn, his beautiful, sweet and considerate Robyn, who once more had managed to give him something so wonderfully thoughtful. “I will bring her home with me.”

“Of course you will.”

“And carry her through the airport?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “And on the plane?”

“She makes a good pillow but I wouldn’t do that to you.” Robyn picked up the backpack. “This is for you too.”

Together they got the dinosaur back in the bag and zipped closed.

“Thank you Robyn.” He dropped the bag at his feet and wrapped his arms around her, suddenly feeling sad like Robyn was. He loved being around her, being with her and the distance was quickly becoming a problem. “You are too good to me.”

“I try.”

Both felt the deep breath the other took and the second one too.

“I really should go Robyn.”

“One more minute.” She spoke, her words a little muffled as her face was tucked into his chest.

Robyn didn’t want to let him go. Taron was so familiar to her now and she couldn’t even begin to describe how it felt to her to have him around and know he was around and there in Kilcreen just for her. She was beginning to truly understand what it was like to have someone actually really care for her and be interested in her and treat with the respect she absolutely deserved and getting a taste of it, she hated having to say goodbye to him.

“Minutes up chicken.”

“One more.”

Taron gave her back a rub and then with his hands going behind his back, awkwardly took her hands from him. “I really have to go Robyn.” He said to her as he held her hands. “I will call you when I can but call me whenever you want.”

“Ok.”

“And I will let you know about Paris as soon as I know.”

“Ok.”

“And watch all the interviews you want.”

“Ok.”

“Robyn, stop saying ok.”

“Ok.”

Looking down to her, he saw tears in her eyes. “Robyn?”

“Sorry I am being a girl.” She took her hands from his and wiped her eyes.

Taron chuckled. “Never apologise for being a woman, not a girl. I get it Robyn. I really do.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I will call you and see you in two weeks.”

“Ok.” She laughed when he frowned. “Sure Taron.”

With one last squeeze, Taron finally walked away from her, swinging the backpack onto his left shoulder and Robyn watched until she couldn’t see him anymore.

“See you soon rocketman.”

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Cuddles #Spice Bag #Goodbyes are always hard #Presents #Surprises #Emotional #Feelings #Robyn and Taron

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