#with not an answer; but with a progression. to hear yourself mirrored across time like that. fucked up.

[trainingdummyrabbit]

Adn So I Have Once Again Afflicted Myself With "Listening To The Same Song For Hours" Disease

#in case i make it of willwood fame is another in that genre of Permanently Altered My Brain In Some Way things #literally doing nothing for days at a time other than having that album on. its such a specific experience too #hearing all the callbacks and the overall tone and piecing everything 2gether like. guh. ggwuuhgh. #piktalk #things that punch me in th back of the head when i least expect it and define an entire era or something. #icant just say 'listen its good trust me' bc the INTRICACIES the SUBTEXT #how do you explain the effect a song had on your psyche at a developing age #only to hear another song years later having a melodic callback; a narrative call and response to what it meant #with not an answer; but with a progression. to hear yourself mirrored across time like that. fucked up. #. but also yeah it does just kinda slap too. like it still very much does that.

[nightdiary]

HELLO MILA <333

I love ur blog sm and i just realised i never asked anything ??????

So i was wondering if u could do something with beomgyu’s s/o surprising him at their recent tour 🫶🏻👀

word count: 2.1k genre: fluff, (secret) established relationship dear anon!!! thank you so much for your wonderful request, i hope i was able to do your idea justice! i had lots of fun writing this, and i've always wanted to try writing something similar! i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you for your support and patience 🤍

the nature of your relationship with beomgyu had always been built on something light-hearted, even as the two of you grew into your separate selves and careers.

it’s what you believed kept your relationship blossoming– the spark as so many relationship experts had dubbed it. it’s what you believed kept you and your boyfriend together after so many years, after so much time spent apart, and after so many things had attempted to come in the way.

easily put: loving your idol boyfriend was easy because of the both of you were just a little bit unserious (sometimes).

the unexpected call comes at an hour too late for you to ignore. beomgyu’s manager is on the other line with a proposition that makes you sit up in bed and tug your sheets off urgently. you nearly think you’re stuck in the midst of a wishful dream, his voice a mere product of your sleep-deprived mind. but then he mentions something you’d been pondering on for months, something you’d never thought would be brought up to conversation with your boyfriend’s management team.

you’re left staring at your frazzled reflection in the bathroom mirror when he hangs up. he leaves it up to you to decide whether or not to tell beomgyu.

so, when beomgyu’s message inviting you to their last show on tour appears on your phone with a muted ding!, you decide to act. it feels a little mean, and it nearly makes you break your act when he sends enough sad face emojis to make the app lag, but you tell him you’re busy; unable to get a day off from your employer, who’s livid at the thought of you taking a vacation on such short notice.

it’s believable, almost too much so, because beomgyu answers with a voice message comforting you and promising to take you next time. he also sends you a selfie of him in his hotel bed, hair wet and lips devastatingly pouty, and you resort to turning your phone off to avoid telling him the truth.

you’ve come across countless photos and videos from his concert before, received even more from your boyfriend directly, but no amount of beomgyu fancams could prepare you for physically seeing him on stage. he looks absolutely incandescent, like a star that’s gotten to close to earth, and your lungs constrict at how effortlessly he carries himself through the songs.

the fervor and keenness with which he throws himself into his performance has left you awe-stuck every time, but seeing it on a stage in such a large-scale venue makes your heart squeeze with pride. there’s a certain glow to all of the members, really, one that made it hard for you to take your eyes off the stage during the entirety of the three hour show.

the stadium’s alive with roaring fans, the energy palpable in the thrumming air as each note reverberated like an echo. the eagerness in your throat nearly suffocates you. with every passing song, you could feel yourself growing more and more nervous, increasingly unsure of how beomgyu will react. despite sitting somewhat close to the stage, he has yet to acknowledge that he’s seen or recognized you.

beomgyu’s eyes briefly meet yours during one of the ments when he’s scanning through your section. his gaze pauses on you for just a moment longer, enough to let you see the brief flicker of shock on his unassuming face, before he schools himself and moves on to fans that are seated higher up. but you still manage to catch his gaze on you every now and then throughout the remainder of the show, fleeting and brief, yet progressively more incessant as everything draws to a close.

you swear you see him mouth something at you, but then confetti’s being blast out and you’re drowning in the screams around you. admittedly, the hardest part is waiting for the venue to begin emptying out, enough so that you can find a trusted staff member and be escorted backstage. you’re unsure of how long after the show it’s been when you can finally slip away to see beomgyu, but it’s all forgotten in the past when you turn into a room and see him staring back at you, this time unabashedly.

everything around you bleeds into hazy, distant nothingness as you run forward to close the gap between you two. beomgyu’s arms encircle you like a lifeline, pressing you into his chest with a measured tenderness. he’s warm and firm and familiar, and as he tucks himself into your shoulder, you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“i can’t believe you made it,” he mumbles against your neck, hold tightening around your waist. he’s sweaty all along the front, shirt practically drenched through after hours of performing, but all you can think about is the fact that he’s finally here. not on a screen. not in your fleeting thoughts throughout the day.

“airplanes are a crazy invention,” you joke breathlessly.

beomgyu laughs wetly from where he’s nuzzling your collarbones, seemingly intent on getting as close as physically possible to you. your own hand raises to card itself through his damp locks, untangling them where they’ve gone unruly from his dancing. you almost feel awkward with the mill of staff around you, but they look too busy tending to the clean-up process to even worry about the two of you huddling in the middle of it all.

“you two are so cute,” you hear from behind you, and as you crane your neck to meet taehyun’s genuine eyes, you flush.

stepping back from the hug, you feel beomgyu’s calloused palms move to cup your cheeks, gently cradling your face with a tenderness so raw it nearly hurts. he’s looking at you with such intent, almost as if in belief that you’re real and in front of him, and you resist to rock forward on your toes and kiss him square on the mouth. his thumbs smooth over your damp cheeks, and you realize with a start that you’ve been crying.

as the room continues to crowd with more staff filtering in, beomgyu takes the initiative to pull you into one of the more secluded corners of the lounge for some semblance of privacy. you lean back against the wall and peer up at him through your lashes, studying the way the glitter of his makeup catches the light. he’s even more beautiful up close, impossibly ethereal, and your heart aches at the thought of leaving him again.

the rest of the members seem to have also taken note of your presence, judging by kai’s excited holler from the doorway, and you preen under their attention when they crowd into your corner. beomgyu makes a noise of complaint when they circle around you, but the frown on his face doesn’t last long as he watches you hug the rest of his bandmates. they’re all still dressed in their stage outfits, equally sweaty and noticeably exhausted, and yet they greet you with such heartfelt enthusiasm that you feel yourself go warm all over.

“no way, you didn’t tell us you were coming!” soobin pulls back from smothering you to look you over, gasping when he notices the tour shirt you’d slipped on over your outfit. “you’re wearing the one beomgyu sent you! oh, i hate couples. i’m going to be sick–”

soobin breaks off, pretending to gag, and you swat at him with a smile so wide that hurts your cheeks.

“we’ve missed you so much,” kai continues earnestly, grinning impishly, “probably more than gyu, if we’re being honest.”

“careful, i know where you’re sleeping tonight,” your boyfriend grumbles, sticking his tongue out at the both of them as he scoots into your side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“so do i? we’re literally staying on the same floor…”

“at this point, can’t we just ask manager-nim to get an extra room at our hotel for you?” yeonjun’s question is innocent, but it makes you go warm all over. partly from excitement, partly from embarrassment.

“no way, your manager’s done already done so much for me.” that was an understatement. he’d been more than understanding when you’d first brought the idea up to him, been too kind and patient in sorting out details and ruling out alternatives. he’d pulled too many strings to secure you a spot at the show, backstage even, that it felt outright inconsiderate to ask for more. you’d gotten to see beomgyu shining from afar, gotten to see him sweaty and tired and soft between your arms.

it was enough, no matter how selfish you wanted to be.

“it’s okay,” a deeper voice cuts you off before you can continue, and you back up into beomgyu in surprise. their manager laughs good-naturedly at your shock, moving in between the members and reaching out to shake your hand in greeting.

“it’s okay?” you squeak, meeting his hand tentatively.

“i appreciate your consideration,” he nods, turning to pat beomgyu on the back. “the boys have all worked really hard on this tour. it’s the last stop, and they have a long flight back to korea tomorrow. what’s one night of celebration? you’ll have to take a separate car and follow extra protocol, but it won’t be anything our team can’t handle. beomgyu, think of this as my congratulation to you for a successful tour.”

“if beomgyu gets to be with his partner, i want in-n-out,” soobin pouts, and everyone in the circle breaks off into laughter. yeonjun seconds this with a raise of his hand, and you watch with amusement as kai and taehyun quickly follow suit.

“thank you,” beomgyu whispers to his manager, smile sincere and flustered. his hold on your hand tightens, and you look over at him to share a knowing look.

the anxiousness at the back of your mind doesn’t disappear as beomgyu and the rest of the members go through the motions of warming down and preparing to leave. you’re instructed to wait on one of the empty couches in the corner, leg bouncing restlessly as you watch your boyfriend disappear down the hall, presumably to change into something with less frills and gems.

outside, you can still hear the hum of excitement from the venue, though considerably scaled down from what you remember it being during the show. your heart squeezes with pride at the thought of how far they’d all come– sold out venues with capacities the size of small towns. an achievement so deserving, and yet once unfathomable to the entire group.

beomgyu returns clad in sweatpants and a loose shirt, face wiped clean of highlights and glitters. he seems almost bashful as he approaches you, looking around with a shy quirk to his mouth as he comes to back you up against the corner. you know what’s coming before he even leans in to peck you, know from the determination in his eyes that this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of him like this tonight.

“ready to head out?” he asks once he pulls back, reaching for your hand with a smirk playing at his lips. your fingers comfortably slip between his, and as you make your way out after the staff, you clear your throat and try to hide the blush on your cheeks.

“i also want in-n-out,” you say.

your boyfriend’s answering laugh is loud and fond, and it rings down the hallway like peals of bells. he leans into your side, nudging you with his shoulder, and you note that he still smells like the body wash you have at home.

“almost sounds like you’re more excited for the food than to spend time alone with me,” he pouts.

flicking him on the forehead, both of you pause before a set of doors, ones you assume lead to the exterior of the building. you know his manager isn’t far behind you, and after being briefed on the measures you’d have to adhere to once outside, you think it’s best you stick by a familiar face. the security milling around should have you feeling more on edge, but beomgyu’s secure hold on your hand is enough to make you forget all about the predicament.

“i’ll see you at the hotel,” he promises.

there’s a crowd of staff forming behind you, commotion rising in the hallway as the team prepares to leave. you look at the flutter of beomgyu’s lashes as he looks up at them, then back at you, and you hum quietly when he begins to let go of you hand.

“with in-n-out?”

beomgyu’s smile is blinding, like that of a star you’re finally able to hold in the cusp of your palms. “with in-n-out.”

#nightdiary.writes #written-asks #txt #txt headcanons #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #txt fic #yeonjun headcanons #soobin headcanons #beomgyu headcanons #taehyun headcanons #hueningkai headcanons #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #txt imagines #txt boyfriend #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together headcanons #yeonjun fluff #soobin fluff #beomgyu fluff #taehyun fluff #hueningkai fluff

[callsign-relic]

hi! May I request a Gn!Human reader x Swerve (first contact?) please and thank you!

Hi!! Thanks for being my first Swerve request!! He’s always such a joy to write, so it was so much fun to pair him with the First Contact AU!! I hope you enjoy, I personally really like this one :D

Warnings: SFW, First Contact AU, GN!Human!Reader

(And as a small reminder to any readers, my requests are currently open!)

Swerve had no idea what he was looking at.

He shifted you this way and that, turning your body around in any direction he pleased as you were held in his fist, examining you from all angles. He lifts a digit to his chin as he pouts his dermas to the side, utterly dumbfounded at just what he was looking at.

Was this one of the ‘humans’ on earth he had heard so much about? After scooping up so many other little earthling creatures into his servos and being told ‘No, Swerve, that is a lizard, not a human,’ ‘No, Swerve, that is a bird, not a human,’ and ‘No, Swerve, that is a a bear, not a human’ so many times, things were starting to get confusing. Earth had so many creatures, just how was he supposed to keep track of which one was named which?

You stare up at your own horrified image reflected in azure blue, struggling to keep down your nausea from being thrown around so carelessly. Your form is warped in the mirror of the titan’s gigantic visor. Was it like sunglasses? Was that its eye?? Did it even have eyes??? Your questions are partially answered by the way the red and white mech adjusts his visor as he brings you closer to his face. A blue light suddenly washes over you, from the top of your head to the bottom of your bound feet, and you flinch back.

Swerve decides to shake the cobwebs off of his old scanning system to get to the root of just what exactly you were. He wasn’t about to bring another creature he thought was a human up to the Lost Light only for him to embarrass himself again. The image of your face begins to match itself with countless other images in his memory database, crossing out mismatches in red.

As the minibot goes through this silent process, you think now may be the best time to try and make your escape. Despite how much you didn’t want to touch this thing, you pushed your miraculously free hands down onto his thumb, doing your best to pull yourself up and out of his grasp. It takes a couple tries, and you almost think you’re not even budging, but when you see the waistband of your pants start to peek out from the bright red of his servo, you know you’re making progress.

Finally, after what felt like a good five minutes of searching through his limited database of earth’s creatures, a green checkmark appears in his HUD view over your image. “Yes!” He quietly pumps a fist to himself and a wide grin spreads across his faceplate, looking to the side in his accomplishment. ‘HUMAN,’ his HUD view had read.

“Ugh, finally, I never thought I was gonna see one of you guys!” He reels his helm back in relief, “I was sittin’ here thinkin’, ‘Man, Swerve! You’re really gonna be the only mech on the Lost Light who hasn’t earth’s dominant species? Especially when we made a pit stop on their planet?’ If I did, I knew I would never hear the end of it from the crew. I mean, really…”

Swerve carries on rambling in a tongue you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, voice echoing loud in your ears and ex-vented air from his words blowing past you. You didn’t have the energy to care to spare— your main priority right now was escape. Your thighs are almost entirely free from his grip now, just a couple more tugs upward and you could get out. Though the surprisingly smooth finish on the mech’s hands didn’t do much to help— your little hands kept on slipping against his knuckle rather than keeping you stable.

You press your legs close together— you were freed up to your knees. Slowly, you lift one of your legs out of the pocket of his curled servo, trying to land it on a stable enough place on his fingers. Your body bends awkwardly and you do your best to calm your quaking chest as labored breaths race through your lungs. You could do this. You carefully pull out your other leg, placing it down beside the opposite foot, and you find yourself spread wide across the hole that was your former prison.

Okay, that was step one. Onto step two.

You push your arms behind you with all your might, trying to force your body up into your feet. To your surprise, you manage to do so first try, standing tall against Swerve’s servo—

Until you find yourself plummeting forwards.

As you fall face first downward into the dirt, you realize all too late that you were in the fist of a giant, of course you’d be countless feet high up into the air. You screw your eyes shut, brace your arms in front of you, and scream— because that’s all you could do in a situation like this…

“…and so I said, ‘C’mon, when have I ever lied to ya’, Magnus?’ And then he said— woah, look out, bud!”

…until you land much quicker to the ground than you had expected. It takes a solid five seconds for you to be flush against whatever surface you were on until you deemed it a good idea to peek an eye open. A familiar bright red paint job gleamed beneath you and you whip your head up, only to heave a shaking, defeated sigh.

Swerve was looking down at you in his palm with gritted denta, optical ridges furrowed in great concern. “Are you okay?” His voice rumbles from above you, and he brings his free servo up and over to you. He gently pushes you with a digit from leaving you lying on your stomach to laying you supine, and though you wanted nothing more than to be on the ground, somehow, you couldn’t find it in you to even be mad. Was it exhaustion? Some weird sense of empathy you got from seeing a gigantic alien look on at you with worry? You couldn’t name it. But whatever it was, it gave you enough strength to redirect some of your energy from heaving your chest up and down with heavy breaths over to your arm, and you point downward over the edge of his hand.

It takes the minibot a good minute to process what was happening. You were communicating? That was certainly more sentience he got from the rest of earth’s creatures… sick. But then Swerve finally looks in the direction you were gesturing to, and gives a long, “Ohhhhh,” when he realizes what you were asking of him. Slowly, the mech comes to a knee, lowering his servo down flat against the earth as he does so.

Slowly, you come to your feet in his palm, and step off the edge of his hand and onto the dirt. Once you’re off, the minibot pulls his hand away, resting it over his bent knee. “Sorry, didn’t realize earthlings were afraid of heights. I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckles, tapping one of his digits gently to the side of his helm.

You somehow found you didn’t flinch as the sound of metal tinking on metal rang around you. Slowly, you chance taking a couple steps back, never pulling your eyes away from Swerve’s visor.

He squints a little, but comes to his realization much quicker than he had before. “Oh! Oh, you wanna’ leave! Okay, no worries, little guy!” He flashes another grin, waving you off with a free servo. “Nice meetin’ ya’!”

Seeing as he wasn’t reaching back towards you, you take it as a sign that he was allowing you to leave. With a long, relieved sigh, you finally turn your back to him— walk becoming a brisk jog as you make your exit.

Swerve lowers his servo, grin fading into a small, content smile on his dermas. “Heh. The guys back on the ship are never gonna’ believe this one.”

#relic writes #reader insert #Transformers #Transformers x reader #mtmte #MTMTE x reader #lost light #lost light x reader #more than meets the eye #swerve #swerve MTMTE #MTMTE swerve #swerve x reader #swerve x You

[panickinganakin]

stepping stones to hell ch. 3 (ronance fic)

this is chapter 3 of an ongoing fic, you can find all previous chapters here. 

word count: 2,310

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After soundcheck Robin made her way back to the dressing room areas. She needed to drink water and ice her wrists with what little time she had left. She knocked on the first dressing room door, hoping Steve would be inside. 

“Come in,” she had heard his voice from the other side. 

Relief flooded through her just at the sound of her best friend's voice. She pushed the door open and groaned. As she shuffled into the room, Eddie was already holding a bottle of water out for her. She grabbed it thankfully and plopped down on the couch next to Steve. “Well, how’d it go?” He asked. 

Robin waited until she had drunk almost half the water before answering. Trying to decide what to say. “It went well. I wasn’t expecting Nancy Wheeler to be there. Why didn’t you say that?”

“Well, I just know tensions used to be high between the two of you. I was afraid you might turn the offer down had I told you beforehand.”

Robin cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked Nancy. Sure, we may have not been compatible friends back in the day but.. I’ve always respected her as a person and not to mention she’s a hell of a writer.”

Eddie lifted his water, “Cheers to that.”

“It was nice though. Nancy asked me questions that mattered and that were centered around what I had to offer to men. It was a really good environment. I fear the pictures might look… Well, I don’t know.” She looked in the large mirror across from them. The lipstick didn’t look bad. She didn’t look bad. “Okay, fine. I look great. But, I just feel like posing is hard. I probably look like a stiff board.”

Steve laughed then patted Robin’s knee. Robin’s thoughts drifted back to the last question Nancy had asked her. “What do you guys think about me coming out?”

Steve tilted his head but it was Eddie who spoke first, “To who?”

“Like everyone?”

Robin could feel her cheeks heating, “It was just an idea. I just thought maybe,” she started but paused to hear any protests. But they both were silent and listening closely. “Well, you know the point of this is to like, be a role model right? Women for women and such. It’s important for young girls and women to have women in all industries they can look up to.”

“Okay, go on,” Steve encouraged. 

“But, what about queer women? Like sure there’s representation with me doing an article cursing the patriarchy but what about what coming out could do? I just think of someone who was like me. Young, confused and just wanting someone to look to. I just-” she choked. Why was it so hard to say? “I just think coming out could give hope to people out there. Not just gay women, but anyone in our community. I’m just afraid of opinions.”

“Opinions of who? We already know your gay, babes,” Eddie said. 

“Well, what about Nancy? Will she even publish a story focused on a gay woman?”

Robin bit her nail but Steve smacked her hand away from her mouth. “We just painted those.  But, no? Why would Nancy care?”

“Well, because, well-” But Robin had nothing to add to that. Of course an all woman magazine would be progressive. 

“I think you’re more scared of yourself than anyone. Why?” Eddie asked. 

Robin rolled her eyes. She hated when Eddie spoke deeply and started making sense. “I’m not scared.”

“Really? You’ve only ever had one girlfriend and you wouldn't even bring her on a double date.”

Robin threw up a hand, Steve had no right to bring that up. “I was young! I’ve been busy. I’m not dating because I don’t want to. I just can’t right now. I’m focusing on this band, obviously.”

Eddie and Steve exchanged a silent look and Robin groaned. She hated when they spoke with their minds. “Nevermind, just forget it.” 

She stood up and grabbed an extra water. Before she made it to the door Steve stopped her, “Robs. You know we are proud of you no matter what. We will always support you and stand behind your decision. You can come out in this article or months down the road. Don’t ever ask us how you should do it. We are standing behind you no matter how.”

Robin’s chin quivered and she nodded, “I know that. I love you guys and I’m very thankful for you both. I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll know after the show.”

Robin followed the hall down to where she knew dressing room ‘C’ was located. She tapped on the door twice and pushed it open before hearing a response. Gareth was sitting on the sofa, tapping drumsticks against a practice pad. He looked up and smiled, “Oh hey, Bubs. How did the interview go?” 

Robin took a seat beside Gareth and sighed dramatically. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her. She couldn’t remember when Gareth had given her the nickname but it had been years of him using it. Their practice sessions had led to them becoming very close. He was practically her best friend after Steve. “It wasn’t bad, was it?” 

“No, no. It was fine! Nancy Wheeler was actually the person interviewing me.” 

“At least you knew someone. Did they take photos?” 

Robin nodded, “They did. I felt sort of silly alone but I think it’ll be okay. The work they’re doing is great.” 

“That’s good, I know how much it means to you.” 

That was true. Robin was very grateful for all of her bandmates. On more than one occasion they had stood with her, signs held high at different protests. Not only gender equality protests but also LGBT protests. “I think it’s going to be good. Nancy is a phenomenal writer.” 

“One of the best,” he agreed. Robin notes his silence and he knew he was thinking of her article she wrote for Eddie. Truly she deserved a large portion of credit when it came to Eddie’s name being cleared. 

The door swung open quickly and Nancy’s head popped in. Her eyes went big, “Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I just missed something but,” Nancy looked down at her notes, her brows furrowing. “Uhm, I’ll just find you after the show.” 

She turned and shut the door behind before Gareth or Robin could respond. “That was weird. Maybe go talk to her?” He suggested. 

Robin debated it for a moment then stood up, letting out a small sigh. She exited the room and saw Nancy standing at the end of the hallway. She held the notepad in her hands but was looking straight forward at the wall. “Uh, Nancy? What did you miss?” 

“Oh! Oh, uhm,” she paused. She looked down at the notes and sighed, “Nevermind. I had read it wrong, I thought I missed half of the answer to the growing up question but I drew an arrow to the margin and for some reason I missed that.” She inhaled, “Sorry I stormed in. I didn’t mean to interrupt your privacy. Steve just told me where to find you and,” she shook her head then smiled. “Please tell Gareth I’m sorry.” 

Robin raised an eyebrow. Nancy was acting like she had walked in on something scandalous. “Oookay. It’s not like either of us were offended. He was just asking me about the interview.” Robin took another step toward Nancy, “You said you’re going to stay for the show?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Steve said it was fine and I wanted to take some notes to maybe have some stuff to fluff up your article. Is that okay?” 

“Do whatever you want,” Robin gave a smile then thought again about what she had discussed with Steve and Eddie. “How long does it take to run an article?” 

“Well, we’re hoping we get this one bumped to the issue that drops in two weeks but it really depends on the printers. It may be next month's issue.” 

“Okay, cool. Does that mean we could change some things around?” 

Nancy raised an eyebrow, tucking her notepad under her arm. “Like what?” She smoothed her shirt down and Robin noticed now she was wearing a short gray skirt, almost the color of her shorts. “Was there something you didn’t like?” 

“Oh, no! Everything was great! I just feel like I could have answered one of the questions differently. You know,” Robin paused to take a breath. Her chest felt funny as the internal debate with herself started again. What would the outcome of this be? Would it have the impact she thought? And why did she feel the need to have validation? “Maybe I’m just overthinking stuff. Everything was great.”

Robin rocked back on her heels and Nancy looked at her curiously. She needed to change the subject so she clapped her hands together. “Have you ever been onstage before a show? The doors open soon but we have enough time to take a tour. Would you be interested?” 

Nancy’s face cracked into a smile and she nodded, “Yes! That would be perfect!” 

“Come on,” Robin motioned for Nancy to follow her. 

They walked through the hall staying silent, Robin was unsure of what to say. It was nice though, she has to admit. Being around someone from her past and a woman at that. 

As they approached the black curtains that separated them from the stage Robin quickened her step to go and hold them open for Nancy. 

Nancy stepped out on the stage slowly with Robin following. She turned taking in the whole venue. “Holy shit,” she said almost breathlessly. “It always seems so big when you’re out in the crowd but seeing it from this angle?” 

Robin watched Nancy as she stepped towards the middle of the stage. With the overhanging light above, Robin could see the colors she had added to her hair better. There were blonde streaks but also reddish brown ones. “This many people? All around America? Incredible.” 

The room had an upper balcony seating with back of house seating in the back as well. The pit stretched to the seats in the back making the venue able to accommodate nearly five thousand people. Tonight was a sold out show. One of the largest they’ve played. 

Robin took her usual seat at the drum kit, “London. Mexico. Brazil. We’ve been a little bit of everywhere now.” 

Nancy shook her head as she turned to look at Robin. “That’s so crazy. It seems like just yesterday we were still in Hawkins. Now you’re on planes, touring the world.” 

“Plans suck. The worst. I have to be medicated just to step on one.” 

Nancy chuckled, “Really? I don’t think they’re that bad. I kind of like being that high up. It’s nice looking down at the world.” 

Robin shook her head, “You’re bonkers. I can’t even look out the window when I’m on one.”

She laughed softly before sitting at the edge of the platform Robin’s drums were on. She stared out at the empty room for a long moment before Robin saw her shoulders lift in a shrug. “I’m really proud of you and the rest of the guys. It’s so crazy, don’t you think?” She turned to look at Robin and the light caught the glitter in her eyeshadow, “You guys started playing music and now you’re doing it. You’re living out people’s dreams.” 

Robin nodded, “You are too. I mean, you always wanted to write, right? And I mean, all those times you were dismissed and made to be a secretary? Now look at you! You own your own magazine and employee only women. That’s so fucking bad ass.” 

Nancy’s cheeks turned pink and she nodded, “I think we both turned out pretty badass.” 

“Doors in five!” A security guard shouted toward the stage from the back of the room. 

Robin gave a thumbs up, hopping off the platform. She offered a hand to Nancy to help her up. Nancy pulled herself using Robin for support. “Thanks for showing me this. It was super neat.” 

“Are you going to watch to watch the show from side stage?” Robin led them back behind the curtain and towards the dressing room areas once again. 

“Well, I actually got Steve to agree to an all access pass. I’m going to watch from the barricade.” 

“Nancy Wheeler,” Robin said in sort of shocked but delightful tone. “I did not take tour for a barricade kinda girl.” 

Nancy made a snorting noise, “Okay, one thing about me? I love live shows. Another thing? Stepping Stones to Hell? Favorite song ever.” 

Robin felt a small bulb of pride fill her chest. Gareth had actually written that song with Eddie. It was her favorite to play because she had an extended drum solo while the rest of the group paused for water. “Well, Wheeler, that just happens to be the best song we play live.” 

The two them entered a room where there were more snacks and refreshments. They both took a water then sat down across from one another at a table. “Are you supposed to have favorites? Isn’t that biased?” 

“I think you’ll know why after you see it tonight.” 

“Alright then, looking forward to it.” 

“As fun as this has been, if you want barricade you better be getting down there. It’s going to fill in quick once the doors open.” 

She stood, finishing off her water then bowing her head slightly. “Thank you for the advice. Im looking forward to your show.” 

“At least you know it’s mine and not the guys,” Robin said jokingly. 

Nancy shook her head with laughter, waving at Robin before hurrying out the door. 

#ronance #ronance fic #fanfic #stranger things #st4 #stranger things fic #robin and nancy #the fruity four #fruity four #robin buckley and nancy wheeler #corroded coffin #stepping stones

[daydreamgoddess14]

First Impressions

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 of First Impressions

*********

Three days later, Lexie was still buzzing from her success on the stand. Her testimony had secured great progress for the legal team and they were confident of a conviction. The outcome was due at any moment and she sat with two colleagues refreshing the instant news feed waiting for the outcome when her phone buzzed in her jeans. She’d been taken aback by the way River’s gaze had taken her in at the café. She convinced herself that she'd imagined it – blown it out of proportion and that he had just been surprised that she wasn’t in jeans. Past rubbish experiences and boyfriends had robbed her of any kind of confidence, and growing up in the 2000s meant that the whole new trend of ‘love your body, love yourself’ was a bit of an alien concept. She still had nightmares of not getting her hips into super low rise jeans, and the hell of her hourglass figure developing during her Sixth Form years when the boys in her class had no concept of curves and would snigger and laugh at her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her body, it suited her just fine - but no one had ever told her that her kind of body was actually desired. Sophie was one step away from having her read ‘my body deserves to be worshipped’ mantras in the bathroom mirror. The media of the last twenty years had a lot to answer for. She pushed aside her teenage angst and reached for her phone. River. She had a feeling it would be.

“Still no verdict?”

“No, I’m going to lose my mind. It’s like waiting for Christmas.”

“287 days. You need a distraction. I have some information for you – are you free later?”

“River, please don’t tell me how long it is til Christmas. I’ve not yet recovered from the last one. I am free… is this real information?”

“What else would it be? A ploy to get you in a pub? – because you’re going to want a grown up drink for this.”

“You’re really selling it. Go on?”

“Not til later. See you at the pub across the road from the café – 6pm?”

As Lexie typed her response, Sky news refreshed. “Lex, it’s in!” Andy dragged her attention from her phone, and stared at the live news feed. The gang, who it’s said managed to convince children as young as 11 to carry bladed weapons into school and had coerced tens of people to move drugs and weapons around the city, have all been found guilty. sentencing is expected next week. “Yessss!” Andy roared, pulling Lexie into a bear hug. She beamed and finished her message:

“See you there…. They’re guilty - get on Sky news - I did that! I’ll make sure to have coffee with you next time I’m in court - you must be a good luck charm!”

In his office, River already had the news refreshing and was waiting to see the verdict. He’d figured out the case being heard when Lexie had left him in the cafe, and he had followed the remaining days of the hearing closely for himself. He smiled at his phone as Catherine passed his office door, her eyes widened.

“River? Are you smiling? Are you ok?” he laughed a little

“All fine here, just some good news for a friend.” Catherine nodded and as she turned to walk away, River heard her mutter,

“Didn’t think you had any friends.”

********

The afternoon at the station had been a delirious combination of going insanely fast, but also excruciatingly slowly. Lexie had been upstairs to receive a congratulatory handshake from her senior bosses, someone had arrived with celebration pizza and she’d called Sophie to squeal and cry down the phone. By the time she left the station and headed towards the pub, she was on top of the world. She spotted River in a corner booth and grinned, raising her hand in the international gesture of ‘another drink?’ he held up a half full pint and Lexie ordered white wine for herself and another pint for River.

“Hey! Sorry I’m a bit late, for the first time in their lives, everyone was happy to be at work today – it’s like they didn’t want to leave!” Lexie took off her coat and threw it on top of River’s. She took his elbow as he stood and brushed a kiss to his cheek, surprising both of them. “No idea where that came from, sorry. Ignore me - I’ve been like a bottle of pop all day.” She flushed and sat down next to him.

“Don’t be sorry for that. Congratulations.” he chinked her glass and they sat in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, Lexie enjoying the warmth of the alcohol and the quiet. Feeling on top of the world for a whole day was exhausting. She looked to him and they both went to speak at the same time,

“How was-“

“I take it-” River paused, “sorry, go ahead.”

“I was just going to ask how your day was?”

“Productive. I take it you have a very happy rabble at work?”

“Happy, noisy. Hopefully this will gee them up for a couple of weeks and we can get some other stuff wrapped up. It feels like we’ve had our eyes on so much recently that we haven’t been able to finish anything.” River nodded in solidarity,

“Success breeds confidence and all that.”

“Exactly. Ready for a good run for a few weeks now. Ugh, except I’ve stupidly volunteered to do surveillance tomorrow night. Me, on a night shift - can you imagine?!” Lexie laughed, since her move upstairs as a DI, she hadn’t had to do a true night shift.

“It’s going to be cold. You’re not going alone are you?” River moved onto the drink she’d brought him.

“Yeah, divide and conquer. I’m covering one side of the building and Andy will be the other side. He’s not very happy either, it’s his first night away from his new baby. But, y’know, go team and all that.”

“I don’t mind surveillance, but sitting in a car in the dark and cold is the worst.”

“Thanks!” Lexie laughed, “thanks for the reminder, River. I’ll bear it in mind when I get home at stupid o’clock, freezing cold and bloody knackered.” He laughed,

“You need an assistant to be ready to put the heating on and run the bath.”

“Ooh, good idea. I wonder what shift Sophie is on. She’d do it for me. I mean, she’d probably also then drown me in the bath but at least I’d be warm.” Lexie nursed her drink, thinking for a minute, “Wait - no, if she did that I’d have to die naked and no one, no one wants to die naked.”

“I would say that sounds like you’re speaking from experience, but since you’re here and talking to me then clearly not.”

“I've seen things, River. Believe me when I tell you, you do not want to die naked.”

“What if you’re doing something fun though? Surely that’s a good way to go?” The sincerity on Lexie’s face began to falter and she struggled to hide her laugh.

“Oh god no! I have to break that kind of news to next of kin. ‘I’m so sorry, your beloved 'insert relative here' died whilst… enjoying recreational activities.’ Nope, not doing that.” Lexie couldn’t contain her laugh any longer and it rang out through the bar. Next to her, River was sniggering into his pint, “Recreational activities!”

Lexie excused herself and headed to the ladies room. She checked the mirror, she was blushing. The wine had relaxed her, and she felt as comfortable talking to River as she did her best friends. So much so that in imploring him to not die naked, her mind helpfully provided an image of a very much alive River. She took the opportunity to send her location to Sophie who immediately text her.

“Are you on a fucking date? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Not a date, River had some info for me. Ooh, that reminds me actually - we’ve not got to it yet.”

“Well, all work and no play etc, etc. Please have fun. I’m begging you to put your sensible brain in the bin and have fun - more than fun! Have you ever heard of sex???”

“Sophie! I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks.”

“So you haven’t thought about it? If you say no, you’re a bloody liar!”

“I’m going back out for some more drinks with my friend. See you later!”

When she got back to the table with more drinks, River handed her a paper folder “Nearly forgot - I think you might want this?” Lexie opened the folder and found pages of names, photos, known associates all related to the sex trafficking ring she’d briefly mentioned to him over coffee. She leafed through the pages, her nose almost touching the paper.

“How did you-? I’ve been working on this for ages, I’ve been getting nowhere?”

“I did some digging, used a few lesser known databases. Is it ok? Is it enough to get you started?”

“Started? River, this would have taken me months, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, you were so emotional and passionate about it, you didn’t have months.”

“Kids River, some of them are kids. I can’t-“ Lexie’s eyes filled with tears, “thank you, thank you so much for this.” River blushed and fiddled with his pint glass, Lexie moved closer to his side, pulling him into a tight hug. He felt her tears fall into the collar of his shirt and when she let him go, he brushed his hand across her cheek.

“You don’t need to thank me, please don’t cry.”

“You’re never buying another drink again, I am forever indebted to you River. I’m making a habit of that - you’ll be a kept man at this rate!” Lexie wiped the remaining tears away and smiled. “Now we’re definitely celebrating!”

“As much as the idea is very appealing, you’re not indebted to me at all. I promise you’re free to ditch whenever you want.”

“I’m good for now thanks.” Lexie gave a small smile.

After another couple of rounds, Lexie checked her watch.

“You need to go?” River asked, feigning indifference but hoping she’d say no.

“No, I’d dropped a pin to let my flatmate know where I was. She’s working tonight but she’s not leaving til about 10pm, I just wasn’t sure if I’d catch her or not. She’s an A&E doctor, I’m just trying to make sure she’s eating, sleeping etc. They’re in total chaos at the moment.”

“Do you get to see her much?”

“Amazingly, even though we live together I can go like a full week without seeing her. It’s ridiculous. We’re like penpals! How about you, any flatmates?”

“No, I’m lucky – very lucky. My grandfather has had a flat in London for years for work so he’s just kept it and now it’s basically mine. Pretty sure I’d need to sell an organ if I needed to actually buy it.”

“You’re a Nepo baby!” Lexie laughed, River just shrugged.

“You’re not wrong. It’s kept me on the fringes of MI5 though so I’ll take it.”

“That wasn’t your fault though. How can they really think that after the training you’d already gone through that you’d seriously mess it up that badly? Honestly, it screams ‘set up’.” She shook her head in disgust.

“Exactly, set up by them. That idiot wouldn’t have thought of it himself, he had help.”

“Maybe Slough House will become a shining example of good practice and stellar results.”

“Lexie, if anyone ever tells you you’re not a funny woman they are very, very wrong.”

“River, if anyone ever tells you you’re not a real MI5 agent then send them to me and I will kick their arses.”

“There you go again. C’mon DI Andrews, let’s get some food. I’m too old for an alcohol based dinner.”

Lexie’s stomach rumbled in response, “I agree. I’ll have a hangover tomorrow and I’ll be blaming you.”

***********

By the time they’d eaten and River had offered to walk Lexie home, it was nearing 10pm. She could see a light in the flat was still on - she might just catch Sophie on her way out. They hovered outside the front door and Lexie nervously toyed with her keys.

“Thank you for a lovely evening. Especially the info you managed to get. It’s a real gamechanger.”

“You’re welcome,” River hesitated, “I wonder if I could take you out for real? As in, not work related?” Lexie let out a shaky breath,

“I’d like that. That would be good.” She smiled shyly. Relief washed over him and River smiled and nodded. “Good.” He repeated. “So, I’ll see you soon.” He leaned in to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek, before checking that she’d unlocked the door and gone in. Lexie pushed the front door shut

and leaned back against it with a huge smile.

“Oh. My. God.” Sophie’s head appeared around the living room door. “He is bloody gorgeous isn’t he? Eeek! I’m so happy for you!”

“Soph! It was just a kiss on the cheek. It’s nothing.”

“For now, it’s nothing for now. He couldn’t stop looking at you, you plum! I can’t believe you’re just acting like this is completely normal when you’ve basically been living like some sort of nun!” Lexie glared at Sophie, about to defend herself, when the door behind Lexie knocked. The women froze.

“Who’s that?” Lexie whispered.

“I don’t have x-ray vision Andrews, open the bloody door!” Lexie gave Sophie the middle finger and turned on the spot to open the door. Sophie backed up into the living room out of sight.

“River? Everything ok?” Lexie opened the door wider.

“Yep, I just wanted to… well, if you don’t mind… ahh fuck it-” Lexie frowned, River looked torn between total confidence and total apprehension. Eventually, his natural confidence won out and he took a step forward, one hand reaching up to rest at the back of Lexie’s neck and pulling her gently

towards him. He hesitated for the briefest second to check for the tiny nod before capturing her mouth in a firm kiss. Her small gasp allowed better access and his spare hand circled her waist to pull her even closer. Letting her go carefully, River cleared his throat. “G’night Lexie.” He kissed her once

more and disappeared, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving her staring wide eyed at the space he’d stood in.

“Fucking told you.”

“Shut up Sophie.”

*********

#river cartwright #slow horses #slowhorsesedit

[whirlybirbs]

          (  this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan​ from this beautiful set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

       (   PREVIOUSLY   |    AO3    |    MASTERLIST   |   NEXT  )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

                                      ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.  

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky x you #BOY OH BOY THE FORMATTING I WANNA SCREAM

[goldengoddess]

hi! I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are, can i please request some Matthias fluff based on the injury trope?

stay alive for me - matthias helvar

pairing: matthias helvar x gender neutral reader

a/n: i was gonna make this short but it was low key kind of cute!!!!!! also i know in the books matthias has like a military buzz cut and i reject that so he actually has very fluffy curls :’)

warnings: angst at the start and then fluff, violence and bullet wound

out of all of the stupid things you’d done in your life, this was probably the most stupid.

everything the job had gone to shit very quickly. jesper had given his signal at the wrong time. wylan had detonated the bomb too early. they'd underestimated the number of stadwatch that would be on duty and nina had ran into some trouble.

and you and matthias, alone, had needed to run away from at least seven men raining bullets at the two of you.

so after everything was said and done and you’d all met at the meeting point, gloomy, defeated, and penniless, you really didn’t want to mention the bullet that had skimmed your side during the chase.

but about ten minutes into the walk back to the slat, it was apparent that the wound might have been a little more than just a nick.

your vision was black at the edges and the whole world felt like it was spinning. the group walked ahead of you, keeping with the quick pace that jesper alway set. matthias lagged behind, every now and then glancing in your direction.

you held your side as inconspicuously as possible and reassured a slightly worried matthias with a fake grin.  when he looked forward and everyone else was occupied in conversation, you slowly pulled your hand away from your side. the sight of the deep red blood on your hand made you lose your step. suddenly you were on your knees holding your side once again.

you must have let out a whine or cry of pain because matthias turned his body in your direction. you locked eyes with him, though you could barley see his horrified face through your tears and fading vision. you collapsed onto the floor as you heard the rest of the team running back to your direction.

you fought to keep your eyes open. but then matthias’ face hovered over yours. and even though you were bleeding out on the street of this filthy city, you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked.

you winced as matthias pressed his hands to your side to apply pressure to the wound. you took your bloody free hand and placed it on his head of curls. after the ice court, you’d managed to convince him to grow it out enough that you could run your fingers through it. he leaned into your touch and let out a wet sob.

“you didn’t say anything” he angrily said to you.

you did your best to give him a reassuring smile, “didn’t want to worry your drüskelle. you’re high strung as it is.”

he shook his head in exasperation, “if you don’t die i’ll kill you for your stubbornness myself.”you registered matthias’ arms underneath your body, lifting you up. you could hear the rest of the crows shouting instructions, kaz sending inej off to find a healer, nina crying to jesper out of guilt that she couldn’t do anything anymore to save you.

but all that really mattered to you was the steady and soldier like walk of the boy holding you. you pressed your face into his chest, “my blood is going to ruin your clothes.”

he let out what sounded like a small laugh, “don’t worry about my clothes my love. just stay awake will you?”

you nodded your head but you could already feel the energy draining from your body. “ ’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was hurt” you mumbled softly.

“i should have noticed” he answered gruffly, speeding up his pace at the groggy sound of your voice.

“you always blame yourself for everything matthias. don’t blame yourself for this, not my death” you said. the words coming of your mouth were delusional, you didn’t have much control or awareness.

but matthias’ response came clear as day, like a tether to reality and life.

“you are not dying today.”

the rest of the night went by in a blur. the last thing you remember was nina’s shouting commands, the sound of a door being kicked open, and the fleeting thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to die in matthias’ arms.

and then, sunlight.

the kind of light that was golden and pink at the same time. the filled an entire room. it was your favorite time of day, and in ketterdam it was rarely as beautiful as today.

you looked around the room and found you were laying in your bed at the slat. bloody towels were laid out across the floor. when you tried to move, your side felt sore. but it was obviously healed as well as it possibly could be.

at your movement, you heard a soft groan of protest from next to you. you gasped when you turned your head and found a sleeping body next to you. only then did you realize you were laying on the chest of said body and their arm was placed protectively around you.

you relaxed when you saw the familiar profile of your favorite person in the world. you snuggled back into this chest and placed a soft kiss on it.

this stirred him awake and you felt him shift underneath you. “love?” he asked in the softest voice you’d ever heard him use.

you nodded your head against his chest, “yes, i’m awake.”

the sigh of absolute relief that left his mouth broke your heart in two. his grip on you tightened and he pulled you even closer, if that was possible. he didn’t say anything, just placed a gently kiss to your head.

you pushed away from him slightly so you could sit up and look at him. his blue eyes sent shock waves through your body, the way they always did. but you didn’t fail to notice how they were less vibrant than usual, how his bags were much darker than the last time you’d really looked at him.

“i am so sorry i made you worry, i’m sorry i didn’t tell you” you told him shakily, a lump forming in your throat.

he quickly grabbed your face with both of his hands and leaned his forehead against yours. “hey hey, my love. it is okay. you are okay. that is all that matters to me now.”

you closed your eyes and placed your hands on your shoulders for support.

“but next time,” he started, “maybe you could tell me when you’re bleeding out?”

you giggled and disconnected your head from him, you nodded and bur your lip in embarrassment. “trust me, i will not be making this mistake again.”

he smiled a little bit and traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “you’re not allowed to die on my just yet.”

“just yet?” you teased playfully, leaning into his touch the way he had leaned into yours only a few hours before.

he shook his head and grinned fondly, “no not yet. you still owe me a lot of close calls, i’ve saved your life a couple of times i think you have to live to pay that back.”

you let out a scoff but mirrored his silly grin, “oh shut it. you know i’ve saved your life just as many times drüskelle.”

he smiled but his face turned more serious. “you owe me a life time of happiness, my love. you do not get to die and leave me alone when we are supposed to grow old together. be buried in the snow together.”

you placed your hand on top of his and squeezed to let him know you were here. that you were listening, breathing.

he smiled, “so if you could stop making stupid mistakes and let me help you, i’d really appreciate it.”

you laughed and placed a quick kiss on his lips, “anything for you my life. anything for you.”

taglist;

@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons

low key forgot i had a taglist for a second sorry friends!

#missing matthias helvar hours #mathias helvar #matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar headcanon #matthias helvar fanfic #matthias helvar imagine #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #six of crows imagine #grisha #leigh bardugo #nina zenik

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Tik Tok Leggings

Masterlist

Summary: Time to test these Tik tok leggings.

Warnings: swearing, Fluff, Cheeky Henry, Suggestive Themes, Plus sized reader

A/N: Just wanted to do something different thinking of maybe having a mini TikTok onshot series but unsure yet. Either way I hope you enjoy and happy Easter to those who celebrate  and those who don't? Have a brilliant Sunday xx

Taglist: will be in comment/reblogs

You eyed the package wearily... just how the fuck were you meant to pull this off? Slowly but surely the confidence  and 'fuck it' attitude was waning. They looked small.... very small.

You huffed a sigh looking at yourself in the mirror eyeing your form. You swear you'd gained some more weight, just a few pounds maybe? But you felt huge. Slowly you unravelled the leggings, it had been a good idea at the time but now you wasn't so sure. They were expensive and even thought you bought them as a little prank you did hope they would boost you confidence or at least be comfy enough to wear around the house.

Being a larger girl it was hard finding comfy clothes and you had to be comfy now that your boys were running around the house like headless chickens. You thought the terrible twos with trainers were bad? Your four year olds had scooters!

You grit your teeth and decided to try the leggings on gearing up for an all put war with the waist band but was pleasantly surprized. The fabric was firm and tummy controlling without feeling you feeling caught by a bloody boa constrictor! A comfy tight not spandex tight. You casually wondered about seeing if the company did bras, this shit would stop the girls from trying to knock you out on the stairs!

You pulled the material setting the... elasticated seam in your ass crack and winced... Okay that's a little strange... but not unpleasant and almost thong. You spun around eyeing yourself in to mirror. You didn't look to bad, if you said so yourself. Sure you wasn't magically strim and fit, you were blessed with a nice thick ass... but unfortunately had the thick hips and large thighs to go with it. You'd never be petite or dainty, but then again henry was huge behemoth of a man so you didn't need to be. As he said on many occasions he wanted a woman as thick as him... and you definitely fit that bill. His thighs were only slightly bigger then yours.

You turned around a few more times. Fuck okay hello there~ you grinned. You may not be the perfect sized woman but fuck if your ass wasn't glorious in these leggings~ this just might work.

You grinned and pulled on one of Henry's tshirts, the grey marines one it was snug and would ride up a little over your tummy showing off your bubble but that you felt was your best feature. And then padded downstairs, henry. Was in the large garden trying to teach the boys how to play rugby... Wanting to start them young.

You pottered about the kitchen chopping up the salad for tonight. Contrary to what people thought you were not large because you ate to much or did little exercise, you had always been bigger and admittedly since having the boys you had gained a little more weight but not ridiculously, you wasn't dangerously over weight.

You hummed looking out the patio door seeing henry jumping for joy as his boys and Kal played 'rugby' darting across the garden to the tiny rugby post at the end. Moving to Jersey to raise the kids was a brilliant idea, you had a huge country house with the land to go with it. Flat and immaculate that spread around the house in nearly four acres the lawn was mostly to the back and side and cornered off with tall hedge rows then beyond it a cornered off veggie plot and greenhouse and a work in progress chicken coop. Soon there will be a decent sized pond and some ducks... Henry didn't know yet, but if he was allowed to have a stables built four god knows how many horses you were allowed your ducks god dammit.

You grinned watching as henry ran around both the boys with his phone out cheering them on as they tor across the garden wrestling each other for the ball. You had panicked when you were told twin boys but you should have known henry would be able to handle it. It was perfect, days like this when he was home and strived to make his sons lives as magical and fun as he could, everyday was a holiday when dad was home.

You shook your head seeing the boys both lay on the floor in the shade completely tuckered out from the mornings fun. Henry can into the kitchen and you held your breath quickly bending over the counter a tad more then normal hoping to get a favourable reaction from your husband. But you couldn't help the tinge of doubt  what if he didn't like them? Or thought you looked bigger then you were?

"Hey sweetheart are the boys fruit shoots in the fri-oh sweet baby Jesus" he coughed cutting himself off  and took a half step back as he came in the kitchen. You giggled and turned to him then nodded your head to the fridge.

"Yeah their in there love" you said smirking and blushing as you saw him eyeing your ass tilting his head slowly down trying to get a better look at your ass making you bite your lip.

"Err yeah yeah... I... hold that thought" he said snapping out of it holding a finger up at you and looked to his phone.

"You just stay right were you are- no nope over bend over again babe... fuck me how did I get such a sexy little mama~" he growled one hand swiping over his screen. You flushed and wriggled our hips a little as you leant forward feeling on top of the world as he openly gawked at your ass. For a second you thought he was taking a photo and made to move wanting to snap up right but he napped his fingers to you pointing for you to get back down and brought the phone to his ear.

"Henry what are you?-" you tried standing once more but he crossed the kitchen pressing himself up against your ass and rocked slowly making you mewl as his bulge pressed against your ass half hard already. Henry huge hand pressed you down on the counter before him and winked then he spoke as who ever was on the phone answered.

"Hey mum, hi can you come get the boys?" He asked and you gasped at him shaking your head at him laughing. He wasn't palming the kids off to their grandparents because he wanted a midday fuck! Not that Marie-Ann would mind, she loved hosting the kids and frequently showed up out of the blue and took them out for the day. She was adamant that both you and henry still had alone time.

"No, no everything's all right I just- somethings come up~" he smirked and you laughed loud shaking your head at him, he was a little bugger! He wriggled his brows at you and nodded then flushed stuttering for a few comments.

"I.. No no of course not mum... muuuum stop- well yeah... yes I know you were young once-oh shit no I didn't mean of course your still young! Your in your prime! Okay yes, yes I promise to try my hardest... yes okay, see you in ten okay love you bye... bye mum I will. Yes I will mum bye" he muttered slowly moving through being embarrassed, shy and strangely confident before hanging up.

"Soo the boys are going out?" You giggled finding the way he reacted ridiculously cute. It wasn't what you expected, maybe a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass. But not him shipping the kids off for the day.

"And staying over night" Henry muttered moving both hands to your ass and squeezed and rolled the cheeks about making you squeak and try rising on your tip toes but he just growled following pressing a kiss to your neck.

"And what have we agreed to for this mighty generous gift? What have you promised?" You said arching back into him with a teasing tone knowing Marie would make henry pay for the 'young once' comment.

"Oh you know nothing too big just another grandchild, which wont be hard with these in your closet" he chuckled pinging the fabric that clung to your ass like a second skin. You flushed gasping out at him batting him away slowly. But it was a hard fought battle, Henry won easily sliding the cutting board back then let you spin to face him. He quickly hoisted you up onto the counter top behind you and kissed your lips moaning into you before pulling back and pointed at you.

"Right you stay- right here. Don't you move a muscle Mrs Cavill" he said seriously and backed away from you still pointing making you laugh and kick your feet biting your lip before nodding. Henry backed up to the back door and called out to the boys.

"Boys come on! Your going to grandmas for a sleep over! Go pack a bag, jammies, tooth brush and clothes for tomorrow! Come on mush hop it or cop it!" he called you smiled hearing two high pitch excited voices squealing at the thought of grandma. She spoilt them rotten. They dashed into the house quickly running past the both of you giggle as henry tried playfully nudging them on the bottoms with his foot when they ran through the kitchen to dart up the stairs and pack an overnight bag. Henry slunk out of the kitchen following the boys but kept glancing back at you.

"Remember right there babe, been too long since we fucked in here~" he growled making you flush remembering the last time you'd made love in here. It'd been when you were pregnant, the day you moved in before you redecorated you'd had Chinese take out and then made love in every room in the house.

"I'll be right here love I promise, now... You might want to sort yourself out before answering the door to your mother~" you teased pointing to the large lump in the front of his shorts making him grunt and cup himself trying to reposition himself and left the kitchen to help the boys pack.

You can safely say, these leggings were a success. You were definitely leaving a five star review... You did however regret not filming his reaction for tiktok. Honestly you didn't even have the app your sister in law had shown you and you thought it'd be something fun to try with Henry. You may just get more than you bargained for though, not that you minded... You just hoped you had a girl this time, it was about time to try and even things out a bit.

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you

[wanderinginksplot]

Riye (A Favor) - Alpha-17/f!Reader fic

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Third installment of my Alpha-17/fem!reader fic!

Word-Count: 3,100

Warnings: aggressive flirtation, Alpha is rude.

---

You carefully straightened the neckline of your shirt, eyes on the refresher mirror. It might be silly, but today marked a full month since you had come to Kamino, and you wanted to look your best.

Your outfit had survived the morning, despite a meeting with several Kaminoans who wanted updates on your progress. You had been able to deliver good news - that you were right on schedule - but a sense of doubt overshadowed any triumph you might have felt. The first deadline had been met, but the next one promised to step up the workload, and you were already feeling overwhelmed at the idea.

Still, you were determined to push the negativity out of your mind. You would figure out a better schedule to complete the work later. Today was a celebration.

The bad thing about taking more care with your appearance was that it attracted more attention than usual from the cadets. You had politely turned away two different groups of young men by the time Alpha was due to arrive in the cafeteria. Another cadet - alone, this time - was doing his best to keep from being dismissed as well.

"Was it raining when you came in, ma’am?" he asked, leaning over you. "I have flight drills after this and it gets even more dangerous in the rain."

You did your best not to smile at the obvious way he was hinting about being a pilot. "You know, I think it was raining the last time I was near a window," you told him, voice grave.

"Then I'm going to need some luck to survive," he said dramatically, flashing you a smile he clearly hoped would be charming. "I've heard a kiss from a beautiful woman is a good start. What do you think? It might help me survive the afternoon."

"I wouldn't count on it," a dark voice warned.

The cadet stood as straight as possible as Alpha approached. The captain brushed your new pilot friend aside with a twist of his armored shoulders and sat down. He proceeded to start eating, ignoring the cadet completely.

Any other cadet would have backed away, thankful that Alpha hadn't decided to throw them directly into the oceans of Kamino, but this one was more determined than most.

He winked at you from behind Alpha's head. "By the way, my name is-"

"She doesn't want to know your name," Alpha told him. "Get out of here before I decide that I want to know it."

"Very flattering, Captain," the cadet said cheekily. "But Jango's face isn't the one I want to wake up to, yeah?"

Alpha swallowed his mouthful of food and deliberately set his fork aside, standing slowly from the table. He drew up to his full height before turning around. He was taller than the cadet, forcing the younger man to look up.

"Now I'm extremely interested," Alpha said slowly, his slow and methodical voice dripping with menace. "What's your designation?"

Behind him, you winced. You hated how glaringly obvious it was that the Kaminoans considered these men products. Also, this cadet might die in front of you and that would almost certainly ruin your ability to eat in the cafeteria anymore.

"CT-7115," the cadet said with a grin.

"Ah, part of Zackra Trem's group." Alpha raised his comlink. "Trem."

"Alpha," a female voice returned immediately.

"I've got one of your pilot cadets here in the cafeteria. 7115."

"Broadside," Trem said, clearly recognizing the number. "He's one of my best, Alpha. Don't break him too badly."

"No promises," Alpha replied, turning slightly back toward Broadside. Since you were seated directly behind Alpha, you couldn't see his expression yourself, but it was enough to make Broadside's grin slip for the first time.

"I'll make you a deal," Trem offered. "I'll give him hell here and then send him back to you tonight. I'm sure he could help you demonstrate something unpleasant to your ARCs."

Alpha considered that for a long moment while Broadside shifted uncomfortably. Eventually, he conceded, "That works."

Trem laughed. "Do I even wanna know what he did to you?"

"Harassed an uninterested female."

The laughter emanating from the comlink's speakers cut off abruptly. "In that case, I think we should coordinate punishments. I'll be in touch, Captain."

The transmission cut off suddenly and Alpha looked at Broadside once more. "You had best get to your training, son."

Broadside, looking suddenly concerned, nodded and hurried away. “What was that?” you asked quietly when Alpha had sat down across from you once more.

“I told his superior officer about his behavior.”

“What more than that?” you pressed.

Alpha grinned suddenly, and it was half a snarl. “It just so happens that his superior officer is Zackra Trem. It’s not my story to tell, but she’s got more reason than most to hate that kind of osik behavior.”

You could very well guess the rest of that story. Your heart twisted for Trem, though you had never met her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nice, but she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment,” Alpha told you, not unkindly. “Feel sorry for your little pilot. She’s a Weequay who ran with Mandalorians for the past few decades. Whatever she makes him do, it won’t be pleasant.”

You chuckled at that, trying not to actually feel sorry for Broadside. In the time you had been hanging around Alpha, most of the cadets had eased up a bit on flirting, but every now and then, someone crossed the line.

Alpha picked his fork up again and shot you an intense look. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Though your immediate instinct was to be embarrassed about being overdressed, even mildly, you rolled your eyes at him. “Anything looks like too much when everyone else wears uniforms all of the time. Remember that day I wore a necklace?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Alpha said, snorting. “A necklace. What are you, a Senator?”

“Your ideas of fancy clothing are extremely skewed, I hope you know that,” you told him, adjusting your collar again.

“Hazards of the job,” Alpha replied with a casual shrug as he returned his focus to his food. “Looks okay, though.”

You paused, staring openly at him. Had Alpha just complimented you? Surely not… The universe wouldn’t survive such unexpected behavior, not without signs that space was collapsing in on itself.

Alpha noticed you watching him and lifted an eyebrow in question while he chewed. You just shook your head and applied yourself to your own lunch, avoiding his curious eyes. Explaining your thought process there would be an intensive effort, especially if your goal was to keep him from being uncomfortable.

Fortunately, avoiding Alpha’s eyes let you notice the approaching cadet sooner than your companion did, and you had time to brace yourself before the young man - even younger than you were used to seeing - opened his mouth.

“Excuse me-”

“Kriff,” Alpha said loudly, dark brows crashing down over his eyes. “Go away, kid. I’ve already ruined one cadet’s day and I have no problem adding to the list. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“N-no, sir, of course not,” the cadet told him, nodding respectfully at you as he went on. “I wanted to talk to you. Is it true you served with General Kenobi?”

"What?" Alpha asked, sounding uncertain for the first time since you had met him. You quirked your brows, unsure of whether to be amused or concerned.

"General Kenobi," the cadet repeated. "And General Skywalker, too! I heard you went on a mission with both of them. What was it like?"

"Look, kid, I don't have time to answer all your questions about Jedi-"

"That's fine!" the cadet told him. "I already know everything there is to know about the Jedi. I want to know more about your experience, specifically."

The muscles in Alpha's jaw flexed and you quickly interrupted. "What's your name?"

"Dogma, ma'am," the cadet told you, making an apologetic face. "I know names are against regulations, but my batchers won't stop calling me that. My designation is CT-4287."

“Nice to meet you, Dogma,” you said politely.

Dogma's cheeks darkened and he gave a tight nod. "You too, ma'am."

"Stop flirting with the poor boy," Alpha chided and you gaped at the captain. So much for trying to help him.

"Dogma, I'm sure Captain Alpha would love to answer any question you have," you told the young cadet, grinning triumphantly at Alpha.

"Wait," Alpha ordered, catching at your wrist before you could stand up. His hand was ridiculously huge and you found yourself shackled by his gentle grip. "You haven't finished eating."

You grinned wider at him, slipping your wrist out from between his fingers. "I'll take it with me. Have fun, you two!"

Dogma gave a half-hearted wave while Alpha glared.

---

The rest of the afternoon was spent locked away in your office, working on the second major project you had to complete. Your concerns about the deadline were unfortunately proving correct. The icy grip of stress and fear were squeezing your heart, and you were honestly relieved when someone knocked on the door of your office.

“One moment!” you called to the unseen visitor, but they didn’t seem to hear you. Instead, they continued to pound on the door until you opened it. You were unsurprised to see Alpha on the other side, glowering down at you.

“You’re mean for a nat-born,” he grumbled, brushing you aside as he pushed into the office.

After letting the door slide closed once more, you followed him over to your desk and plopped down in your chair. Rather than sit in one of the chairs opposite you, Alpha leaned his hip against the side of your desk, much closer than you were comfortable with.

In a show of belligerence, you crossed your arms and lifted your chin as you replied, “Serves you right for being rude about my outfit.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about your clothes!” Alpha denied, befuddled.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say anything nice about them, either,” you argued childishly, conveniently forgetting his half-compliment at lunch.

Alpha frowned. “You want me to… talk about clothing with you?”

Well. Put that way, it did sound a little silly. Of all of the things you were sure Alpha did well, deep discussions about fashion might be beyond him. Honestly, they might be beyond you, too. You sighed. “No, I don’t want you to talk about clothing with me, but I was trying to look nice today. I put a lot of effort into this.”

“I don’t understand why,” Alpha said. “You look… fine… every other day.”

“Fine,” you repeated dryly. “Thanks, I was going for fine.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong.” You were able to hear the growing frustration in his voice. “What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe don’t act like I’m wearing a ballgown to work if I show up wearing a necklace!”

“What is a ballgown?”

You stared at Alpha, the simple question making your brain screech to a halt. It was like a chasm had opened between you, and it made you reconsider a few things. Since you had arrived on Kamino, you had treated the clone troopers as if they were people you might meet out in the galaxy, but that wasn’t exactly true. You still believed that they were people - of course you did - but you were only just coming to realize how different they were from anyone you had ever met. While the troopers shared their own experiences on Kamino and had been trained to be perfect soldiers by the time they shipped out, they were startlingly young by the standards of the rest of the galaxy.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You fiddled with one of the many datapads littering your desk rather than meet Alpha’s intense gaze. “I am sorry for siccing Dogma on you, though.”

“You should be,” he growled. “He asked ten questions before I could shake him off. Ten!”

“Wow, that’s what? Five days worth of questions?” you teased.

“Five days for you,” Alpha told you seriously. “For anyone else, that’s more than I would ever answer.”

You were unreasonably touched by the reminder that Alpha let you learn things about him that no one else would ever know. Moved by a sudden surge of warmth for the ARC captain, you repeated your prior sentiment, but more fervently. “In that case, I honestly apologize for unleashing Dogma. If there’s anything I can do to make him back off, please let me know.”

Alpha’s stare was level and unwavering. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not understanding what a wildly stupid idea that was. That was fine - you would learn… and it didn’t take long.

That night at dinner, Alpha came in and sat across from you, but instead of starting the meal in silence, he leaned across the table slightly to get your attention. Lowly, he asked, “Are you still willing to help me with Dogma?”

“Yes,” you agreed simply. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah. Flirt with me.”

You fought not to react visibly to that. Carefully keeping your face blank and your voice flat, you replied, “What.”

He leaned even closer, eyes lit with excitement. “I’ve been threatening and trying to alienate Dogma all day, but the only time he was uncomfortable was when you flirted with him.”

“I didn’t flirt with him!” you reminded him. “I just said it was nice to meet him.”

“Fine,” Alpha conceded. “We’ll just have to do better than that if we’re going to convince him to leave me alone.”

Abruptly feeling like this was the worst idea anyone had ever had, you tried to speak in your own defense. “Alpha, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

“You said you would help me,” he reminded firmly. “He’ll be here in a minute. I need your answer.”

Your heart was pounding, one of many warnings that this was a bad idea, but you nodded anyway. Alpha smiled - he actually smiled - and the expression looked menacing on his face. “Good.”

In a moment, he had circled the table to sit beside you, his huge frame making you feel ridiculously tiny in comparison. He wasn't wearing any armor at all now, and you could feel the heat of his skin through what little space there was between you.

You tried not to obviously tense as he spoke next to your ear. "There he is, get ready."

Impossibly, Alpha managed to get closer to you, tugging behind your knee slightly so that you were angled toward him. When he had finished posing you, Alpha’s large hand lifted to cradle your face. His fingers brushed over your cheekbone before trailing down to your jaw.

"My little neverd," he murmured to you, face filled with affection.

You didn't have to feign embarrassment at the warmth in his tone matched with the intense eye contact he was giving you. When you replied, you tried not to sound squeaky but only managed to sound shaky instead. "You know Mando'a is my weakness."

He laughed, a low chuckle that sent delicious chills running over your skin. “Why do you think I use it?”

“Alpha…” you chided, managing to sound mildly flirtatious.

“Come on, little one,” he urged you, voice velvet in a way you hadn’t known it could be. “Let’s go back to your- Ah, one moment, neverd. Dogma, sit down.”

You looked over to see Dogma standing at the other side of the table. You had never even noticed, your entire focus narrowed down to Alpha. Dogma looked as embarrassed as you felt. While you were focused on Dogma, Alpha’s arm snaked around you, pressing against your waist to pull you flush against his side. Your face flamed and Dogma glanced away.

“Sir, I- I’m sorry, I forgot I’m on duty tonight,” Dogma muttered, speaking so quickly it was difficult to understand him.

“Sorry to hear that, cadet,” Alpha replied gravely, flexing his fingers against your side. It made you push a little closer to him in reflex, the tip of your nose brushing the space under his jaw as you tried to look up at him. Alpha shivered, and you weren’t sure how much of the motion was acting. “Maybe later.”

Dogma gave an awkward nod and hurried off.

Alpha started laughing even before he let you go, his muscular chest shaking against your shoulder. After a moment that felt like it had stretched an hour, he pulled his arm back and slid away a bit. You immediately felt the loss of his closeness and suddenly you were horribly uncertain of what expression you were wearing. Just in case it said more than you wanted it to, you looked back at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“I feel bad,” you admitted.

"Don't," Alpha advised, looking toward the door as well. “He’ll be fine. He’s a good soldier, just a little…”

He trailed off, apparently content to let his thought stay incomplete. You glanced over to him with an eyebrow raised, but his eyes were fixed on the door. “You can see every access point in the room from here.”

“That is why I chose this spot,” you agreed.

“Switch with me tomorrow.”

“Not a chance,” you refused. “This is my spot.”

“Then I hope you like sitting next to me,” Alpha told you. Surprised, you laughed up at him and he met your eyes. “You know, I’ve never seen anyone blush on cue.”

“Hidden talent,” you explained vaguely. Alpha didn’t seem convinced, so you changed the subject. “What does neverd mean?”

“Civilian.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. “Civilian? That’s what you used as a term of endearment?”

Alpha blinked blankly at you. “What’s wrong with it? You are a civilian.”

“Yes, but,” you thought over it for a second, “-it’s not very romantic. Usually, people say things like ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’.”

“How should I have known that?” Alpha asked.

It was the ballgown situation all over again, and more than you were willing to tackle that day. “Well, some warning before you want me to go undercover would be helpful.”

Alpha snorted. “How much warning do you need?”

You pretended to consider that for a moment. “Two business days, minimum.”

He frowned fiercely. “If you get two full days of warning, I expect more. I need you to show up in a disguise with three different accents ready.”

“Harsh terms,” you told him with a smile. “With those negotiation skills, you’d make a great senator."

Alpha gave you the darkest scowl you had ever seen him muster. “Watch it, neverd.”

Idly, you wondered if Alpha would protect you from himself, but the amused glimmer in his dark eyes told you it would be unnecessary.

---

A/N - Pretty sure Broadside is wildly OOC, my bad. Also, sorry for the weird image for this chapter. I didn't really want the text bubbles in there, but I needed to keep Alpha's sassy hip lean.

Taglist - @imabeautifulbutterfly @cagrame @mysticalturtleenthusiast @marvel-starwars-nerd @lackofhonor

#star wars #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars #prequel era #reader insert #alpha 17 #alpha 17 fic #alpha 17 x you #alpha 17 x reader #star wars reader insert #clone trooper dogma #dogma #captain alpha 17 #broadside #clone troopers deserve better #more to come #gar cabur #Gar Cabur

[mrkis]

just a fuck

pairing: yuta x reader genre: smut, angst wc: 2.7k warning(s): explicit content, swearing, oral (giving), hair pulling, spanking unprotected sex, daddy kink, kitten kink, yuta is a asshole in this 

REQUESTED by @mireyth: ooh i’ve seen that your questions are open for nct and i wanted to ask if you could write a smut with angst for yuta? something like y/n being his mistress or y/n being in love with him but him not feeling the same way, i really love your writing <3

i went for the “y/n being in love with him but him not feeling the same way” route coz my knowledge on mistresses is whack and i didn’t wanna embarrass myself :D i hope you enjoy

yuta: i’ll be there in 10. be ready for me

The simple message sends a shiver down your spine. Your feet instinctively move around your bedroom, picking up items of clothing that were thrown carelessly on the floor and shoved them away in your dresser, tidying up the room before you rush into the bathroom to prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

Yuta has been your fuck buddy for the past year, a arrangement that was made between the two of you when you were tired of being a virgin and Yuta kindly offered himself to be the one that would take you through your sexual desires, fantasies and to let you experience new things.

Truthfully, it was supposed to be maybe a one or two time thing, but it progressed into something a lot more serious when you both realised how good it felt being with each other, how easy it was to hookup together rather than going out and finding someone different whenever you felt the urge for a release.

Also, you would definitely be lying if you said you didn’t catch feelings over the period of time you had spent together. Each moment was different after the other; more intense, more passionate, more real. You noticed from the fourth month into your hooking up that it wasn’t treated like a regular hookup anymore. 

Yuta stayed over after sex, whether it was to cuddle or to sleep. He would take you out to expensive restaurants and serenade you with music and roses. He kissed you one night in the middle of fucking you against a bathroom stall and he’s never stopped since, considering kissing wasn’t apart of the original arrangement. 

You never questioned him on the sudden affections and you weren’t complaining either. In fact, you like it. You like him. Would you ever admit it to his face? Maybe, whenever there was a right time and place to do so. But you never found that right time or place and even if you did, you’d always forget when Yuta is balls deep inside you. 

It takes you a few minutes to shower and make your body feel smooth, applying the best smelling lotions and spritzing his favourite perfume on your neck.

“Shit” You curse at yourself as you clip on your new lacy lingerie set, frowning at the tear on your bra that you see as you stand in front of the mirror. Frustrated was an understatement. You bought the lingerie set a few days ago while scrolling through a website with Yuta beside you, where he states that he finds the lacy ones the prettiest out of them all.

And of course, you bought it. 

“Fuck it. No bra” You unclip it from your body and throw it inside your dresser for the time being, making a mental note to throw it away after spending the night with Yuta. 

You sit down on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your arms and pushing out your chest as you wait for Yuta to arrive, glancing at the digital clock on your bedside table to check the time before a wide smile spread across your face as you hear your front door open.

You hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and you quickly check your appearance in the mirror before settling into a seductive position, crossing your leg over the other just in time for Yuta to open the bedroom door.

“Hey, kitten” Yuta greets you as he toes off his shoes, kicking them to the side as he shuts the door behind himself. His eyes drink in your appearance, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he beckons you over with his finger and points to the floor in front of him.

You fight back a smile as you slide off of the bed, crawling on your hands and knees towards him at a slow and sensual pace which has him smirking, watching your every movement as you finally kneel in front of him. 

“Are you desperate for daddy’s cock, kitten?” Yuta growls as your fingers toy with the zipper on his pants and you nod, tugging his jeans down his legs with his boxers. You take his cock in your hand and massage his balls with the other, licking at his tip as you stare up at him.

Yuta’s hand rests at the back of your head and pushes you forward to take more of him into your mouth. You happily oblige, bobbing your head on him and trying to ignore the urge to gag every time his cock hits the back of your throat.

You love the noises he makes, stomach whirling with arousal as he gasps and grunts when you use your hand to massage his base while sucking and slurping his cock. His fists grips your hair as he guides your movements.

You happily let your jaw go slack as he uses you for his own personal pleasure, tears spilling down your cheeks as he continues hitting the back of your throat. You’re unable to hold back your frequent gags and chokes, breathing through your nose and looking up to meet his eyes.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking gorgeous, kitten” Yuta praises you, his movements slowing down as he feels he’s about to bust, caressing your tear stained cheeks with a free hand. His cock twitches on your tongue and you realise he’s close to cumming which makes you eager to go faster, to feel him spill his load in your mouth but he pulls at your hair in warning, taking you off of his dick.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, daddy” You pout as his tip bumps your top lip. “I want to please you”

“It’s not about what you want, kitten” Yuta tuts with a shake of his head. “I want to cum in the sweet little pussy I love so much… doesn’t that sound better?”

“Yes, daddy” You nod your head frantically, ignoring the stinging sensation in your scalp from the fast movement as his hand is still gripping your hair. 

Yuta smirks as he releases your hair from his grasp and reaches for your arms to pull you up from the floor. You let out a shriek as he throws you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, instantly covering your mouth with his own in a heated and sloppy kiss. 

He trails his lips across your cheek and down your neck, smothering your shoulders with wet kisses before he reaches your bare chest, squeezing your tits and rubbing your nipples with the pad of his thumb. 

You gasp as he takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardening bud. You push your chest forward, desperate for more of his touch and he softly bites down on your nipple in warning, raising his eyes to glare at you. You cry out at the pain, fingers gripping the roots of his hair out of instinct and Yuta slaps your hands away.

“Behave” Yuta demands as he moves his attention to the other nipple, repeating his movements. You moan this time as he bites down on the flesh of your tit instead of the bud itself, focusing on his hand that moves down from your chest to your panties.

Yuta yanks the material down your legs and carelessly throws them over his shoulder. Your eyes narrow at that, feeling a little irritated that he didn’t bother to take notice in the lingerie that you bought specifically for him but it soon went away as his fingers make contact with your clit, rubbing you at a pace that has your hips twitching. 

“Daddy” You whine, closing your thighs around his hand. “Faster, please”

“Don’t be so needy, kitten” Yuta shakes his head as he forces your thighs apart. “I can’t please you the way you want to be pleased… I don’t have enough time today”

“Huh?” You make a noise of confusion, watching as Yuta pulls away from your body to grab your hips, flipping you around on the bed so your face mushes against the cushions and ass in the air. You turn your head to the side. “Do you have somewhere to be later?”

“Yeah” His answer is blunt and it made you want to question him more but the feeling of his cock rubbing against your folds makes you forget so easily, gathering your slick juices with his tip before he pushes into you without any warning.

The sound of skin slapping, swearing and moaning echoes throughout the room, your fingers tightly gripping the bed sheets in front of you as Yuta rails into you from behind. He has a tight grip on your hips, controlling your movements and squeezing your ass cheeks as it bounces against his thighs.

“God, I love seeing you like this… Dripping down my cock and moaning my name” Yuta licks at his lips, quickening his movements as he feels you clench around his pulsing length. 

You try to push your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate noises falling from your lips as you get closer towards your orgasm. Your fingers touch your clit and it’s enough to send you over the edge, a loud cry escaping your throat as you cream all over his cock, Yuta groaning at your pussy squeezing his length.

He’s quick to throw you onto your back, his cock still remaining inside of you and he pushes your knees against your chest, reaching deeper inside you as he sends a particularly rough thrust to your core, chasing his own high eagerly. 

Your thighs burn at the new position, looking up at him and watching his expressions. He bites down hard on his bottom lip, piston his hips at a pace that has the headboard slamming against your walls and you mentally apologise to your neighbours, already knowing you’re going to get a noise complaint in the morning.

“Please cum for me, daddy” You whine in his ear, fingernails scratching at his back. “Please fill my pussy”

“You want daddy’s cum, kitten?” Yuta asks you between pants, his hips stuttering as he nears closer to his high. “You want me to fill your little pussy?”

“Please, please, please, please!!—”

“Fuck” Yuta grunts as his cum spurts into you, filling your insides white and you lay still, legs trembling as you come down from your own intense orgasm. You whine as he grinds into your throbbing pussy, milking the rest of his high and you clench around his length as the oversensitivity kicks in.

You push him as a warning to stop and Yuta chuckles, pressing his lips hard against yours while he slowly pulls himself out of you, his cum spilling out of your hole which neither of you cared about at the moment, too into each other as his lips continue to smother yours.

Yuta’s the first to break the sloppy kiss, rolling to your side and throwing an arm around your middle, resting his cheek upon your shoulder as the two of you try to calm down your erratic breathing, allowing yourself to lay in silence for the first time. 

This is it. This is your chance to let it out into the open, to be truthful about your feelings. This is your moment.

“There’s something I gotta tell you” You pause, nervously twiddling with Yuta’s fingers that rest just above your belly, twisting the rings and tracing the pretty nail polish that decorate his nails. “It’s pretty…. serious, I guess”

Yuta hums softly as he delicately kisses your shoulders. “What’s up, baby?”

“I, uh…” You hesitate, second guessing your decision on admitting your feelings and letting the multiple narratives run through your head, all with completely different outcomes that make you tense with fear. 

But Yuta is quick to comfort you as he notices your hesitation, tangling his fingers with your own and squeezing your hand tightly. This was it. This was your moment.

“I like you”

“What?” He snaps, ripping his hand from yours and shooting away from you as if you were some sort of disgusting creature or a deadly disease, putting a decent space between you both as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“I like you” You confess again, but quietly this time, afraid of the reaction he was going to give you as his current one wasn’t the reaction you had hoped for. He’s quiet now and you hesitantly reach out for him. “...Yuta?”

Yuta dodges your hand, moving completely off of the bed. “Why?”

“Because of everything that’s been happening” You give him a tight lipped smile, hopeful that your small gesture would make him ease up. “I… I thought we were closer than fuck buddies. I thought we went over that line when—“

“What are you talking about?” Yuta hisses angrily, hastily pulling up his boxers to cover himself as he stares at you in disbelief. Your smile immediately slips from your face. You felt utterly embarrassed, gripping the bed sheets beneath you to try and calm yourself, tears of frustration threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, we’re fuck buddies. We agreed to fuck each other not… like each other”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing” You mutter softly.

“Because it is!!” Yuta retorts, running his fingers through his hair as he paces back and forth with a sour grimace. Your stomach twists and turns at his expression, quickly throwing yourself out of your bed to retrieve your robe from the bathroom, wrapping it around yourself to cover your nude body.

“I’m sorry” You pathetically apologise as you watch him reach for his jeans. “But… you gave me the impression that what we had was more than just a simple fuck!! You told me you liked me the other night—”

Yuta scoffs at that. “Not in the same way you like me”

“Yuta, you’ve stayed after sex multiple times to either cuddle or to sleep… you take me out and buy me things!!” You look down at the ground as you avoid his gaze, nibbling on your bottom lip as the tears build up in your eyes. “You… you’ve kissed me”

“Because that’s what we do!” Yuta exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “We’re comfortable enough around each other to do those kinds of things! Fuck, you knew from the start of this arrangement that I didn’t want a relationship!”

“I-I thought it would’ve changed after a year”

“Yeah, well, you obviously thought wrong” His words punch you straight in the gut. You’re mortified at what’s going on right now, struggling to calm down your erratic thoughts and heart rate. 

You’re uncertain if Yuta knows how much of an impact his words are to you or even if he knows what he’s actually saying, but you never get the chance to ask as he rushes around your room to try and find his clothes, obviously eager to get away from either you or this situation.

“I can’t believe you’ve fucked this up for us” Yuta sighs as he pulls his shirt over his head. “What we had was good and then you… fuck”

“I’m sorry” You whisper out another apology, fists clenching at your sides so tight that your nails dig into the palm of your hands. Yuta hurriedly puts on his shoes as he takes a few brief glances at you every so often, disbelief and disgust obvious in his face while makes you feel sick, wanting the ground to swallow you up so you wouldn’t have to be in this position any longer.

“This, what we had, is done” Yuta gestures between the two of you, shaking his head. “It’s over, completely. Unless you come back to your senses and get your head screwed on properly then—”

“I think it’s over for good” You cut him off, rubbing away the tears in your eyes. “I can’t be with you and act like I don’t have any feelings for you. I can’t pretend… that’s not me”

“That’s a shame” Yuta admits as he walks towards your bedroom door and yanks it open, remaining in his spot for a moment before he turns to look over his shoulder, emotionless eyes staring into yours. “Delete my phone number. Don’t contact me, ever”

“Okay” You whisper quietly, watching as he leaves out of your life forever, slamming the door shut behind him.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #yuta smut #yuta nakamoto smut #nct yuta smut #nct angst #yuta angst #nct 127 angst

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Just My Type Pt. 1

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: slight dubcon, stalking behavior, voyeurism, male masturbation, sorta subby shiggy if you squint, reader is pretty gender neutral, no pronouns used, 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: You’re a part time transporter for the LoV and Shigaraki just can’t seem to get you out of his head. So much so that he follows you home and jerks it to you changing in front of your window.  

Note: first time writing for shig and this sat in my drafts forever, I’m thinking of a part two If there is any interest. 

Part 2

AO3 Mirror

He didn’t understand you. 

Though, to be fair, he didn’t really understand anyone—he never needed to. 

As long as the League did what he told them to do when he told them to do it,  that was always enough. Ultimately, people were nothing more than overly complicated pits of questionable motivations, each arbitrarily categorized as good or evil and judged accordingly. Whether or not he understood those motivations was immaterial. 

It was enough to have them simply obey. 

And he’d never bothered with wondering why they followed him. 

But that wasn’t exactly true anymore, because Tomura Shigaraki did wonder now—wondered often, and somewhat obsessively, about you. 

He was doing it now, even. Eyes creeping their way across the dingy floorboards to where you stood by the bar’s entrance. You looked very out of place there, and your voice was almost too loud as it broke the almost constant silence. 

It wasn’t that you stood out, though—really it wasn’t. To anyone else, you probably didn’t at all. In fact, the only reason he became even tangentially aware of you at all was because you came to him for payments. You were just a transporter, showing up every now and then to drop off or pick up a new order and rushing out again. 

‘Reliable’ is the word Kurogiri used. That’s why he recommended you, and he was right. 

You did your job quietly, without error. 

All this was just to say that from the outside you were frustratingly unremarkable—a blip, a smudge on the page of his life’s work in the making. 

And yet. 

And yet you were so impossible to ignore, standing out immediately every time you walked in a room. 

You were nothing special, nothing he hadn’t seen before. Though, now that he thought about it—neck tingling the second he felt your eyes on him—maybe it wasn’t so much that your presence itself was incongruent. No, objectively speaking, you did fit in perfectly amongst the shitty furniture and refuse. But it was specifically the way you carried yourself around him which seemed so blatantly unusual. 

“Everything’s unpacked and accounted for,” you called to him, sauntering over to his seat along the bar. 

You had a particular walk—It was something he noticed early on. Like you always knew exactly where you were going. 

“Good,” he nodded and tossed an envelope of cash your way. 

He never knew what to say to you, so he tried to say as little as possible. Though there were plenty of things he wanted to say. Questions and phrases occurred to him nightly, clamoring at the seal of his lips to escape, to be spoken into reality. 

“Same time next week?” you asked, obvious to the rampage of thoughts in his head. 

You always looked him in the eye when you spoke, no one ever did that. 

“Yeah.” 

The upward quirking of your lips when you spoke made his palms sweat, “See you then. Pleasure doing business with you, as always.” 

Your hand was the last thing to disappear from around the door frame and into the street. As your figure faded away into the crowd, the air seemed to grow heavier. The soft clinking of glasses as Kurogiri tidied up, the oppressive scent of bodies and liquor and smoke all wafted back in. 

Now he’d wait another week to say all of two words to you and pretend it wasn’t the only thing he’d truly looked forward to in years. 

***

So no, Tomura Shigaraki didn’t understand you, but he was beginning to wish that he did. 

Which was concerning in it’s own right. He was not accustomed to whatever the pit that developed in his stomach when you came around was called and for good reason. Things like that got in the way of progress. He knew that much at least. And he tried, so very hard to disregard it, but you kept coming back every week and he— 

He couldn’t. 

It was just because you were attractive. That was what he tried to tell himself. It was because you were attractive and you wore those tight uniforms sometimes and Dabi was...Dabi, so he always pointed it out. It was because you were attractive and he was only human, as much as the rest of the world tried to deny it. That was the only reason you ever crossed his mind. He could accept that. It was a physical response, nothing he could help. 

You were nice to look at, and he appreciated your willingness to do your job and keep your mouth shut otherwise. 

In the beginning, it was easy to convince himself of this. 

Easy to live with just the stolen glimpses of you rushing in and out the door. But as those short few seconds grew and your employment with the League became increasingly stable, just the sight of you weaving through the tables or negotiating with Kurogiri at the bar wasn’t nearly enough to keep him satisfied. 

Then you started staying for drinks some nights, maybe every other week or so, which certainly didn’t help the situation. 

The others liked you enough. Despite the effect you seemed to have on him, to everyone else you were unassuming in a way Tomura was beginning to think must be purposeful. Shallow, yet personable enough to be appealing to just about anyone. He was sure the rest of the team would never notice it, but he had such a hard time doing anything other than drinking in every word that fell from your lips that it was hard not to see the way you casually dodged every question thrown your way. 

In any case, it made you easy to get along with, and so when you did decide to hang back after runs, the bar was always a bit lighter and filled with the scent of drugstore shampoo instead of blood and grime. Tomura himself never actively participated in ‘team bonding activities,’ but he remained in the periphery. 

Listening. Looking.

 At you. 

Tonight was one of those nights, and it was following the same formulaic structure as usual. Kurogiri made everyone a drink, Toga laughed too loud at a terrible joke, and after a few shots Dabi made a thinly veiled pass at you. 

Tomura was starting to think that he did it specifically to get to him, and it was annoyingly effective. His chest grew tight as he watched a scarred and stapled hand slide it’s way into your lap. Tomura’s own nails dug painfully into the scabs of his neck while Dabi’s bit at the flesh of your thigh. 

But the surge of anger, of jealousy, didn’t mean anything. Not really. 

Dabi always pissed him off, so he tried to blame the visceral reaction on the fact that the burnt piece of beef jerky masquerading as human was a bit of a bastard. And since everything Dabi did pissed him off, it also made sense that this did too. 

This had absolutely nothing to do with you particularly he thought to himself, even as the burning in his throat lessened when you pulled away and stood to get another drink. 

It made a frustrating amount of sense for you to fuck Dabi, though. He was outspoken in a way Tomura could never match, with a more traditionally dominant manner that attracted partners like moths to his flame. 

He thought maybe you would at first.

Fuck Dabi, that is. You struck him initially as one of those quiet types who saw softness where there was none and clung to it. Gravitated towards broken people in a desperate attempt to fix them, as if that could bring some meaning to your useless existence. Of course, he’d probably made an equally poor first impression as well. 

Regardless, he was fairly certain you never did fuck Dabi. 

Mostly because he would have assuredly rubbed it in Tomura’s face and because sometimes—like right now—he’d push past the churning in his gut to look up as Dabi not-so-casually propositioned you into his bed. And when he did, he caught the way you hid a secret grin behind your hand, ducking your head down with the most incredulous look plastered on your face for just a second. Like you knew that charred asshole didn’t have a fucking clue. 

Though he really couldn’t be sure if that was anything more than a trick of the light. 

“Care to join?” 

Your voice ran through him like a thousand volt shock as he looked up from the table to see you standing just behind him. 

“What?” he asked incredulously. 

He didn’t seen you coming, too busy glaring at your empty seat to notice the signature sound of your footsteps drawing near.

“Do you want to come drink with us?” you said again and nodded towards the empty glass in his hand. 

This wasn’t part of the routine. You hadn’t ever approached him before outside of the necessary work related conversations. Predictably, Tomura fumbled just a bit. 

Yes. “No, I’m done here.” 

The way you kept moving your head to keep eye contact with him was nearing oppressive. He just barely caught the slight frown as you backed away for him to brush past you towards the stairs. 

“Suit yourself,” you shouted after him. 

He didn’t bother answering, just slammed his bedroom door and sat at the edge of the mattress with his head in his hands and his dick raging hard in his pants. 

***

Even from two floors away Tomura heard you getting ready to leave. He could easily picture it, and was currently despite his attempts to think of quite literally anything else. The way you’d slide your empty glass across the bar top and just fade like a shadow into the night air. 

He could hear the rest of the League beginning the crawl up to their respective rooms one by one. And it was the persistent thought of you sliding back into your coat that convinced Tomura to finally let his mind slip. 

All the failed attempts at concocting business strategy, budgets or what he would need you to deliver next fell away, leaving only thoughts of the way your lips fit around the rim of a glass. How the moisture beaded just on the plushest part and your tongue flicked out to wipe it away. 

Then his hand was slipping too, teasing under the waistband of his pants and stroking his still aching cock. 

He’d never had his dick sucked but he imagined—in the dark of his room, listening to you offer your goodbyes through the floorboards—that you’d be good at it. Thought you might nip at his thighs and take his whole length into the wet heat of your mouth in one go. You’d roll your pretty tongue over the head of his cock until he couldn’t take the teasing doses of pleasure. He’d buck his hips up, milking himself with your throat and you’d happily let him. 

Tomura pumped his length, fucking his hand in earnest now. Curiously he made a small ‘o’ with his thumb and index finger, trying to replicate what the seal of your lips might feel like. He closed his eyes and attempted to conjure a good accompanying image: you, on your knees, head bobbing on his cock. And, god that was so good. He even muttered the words under his breath, but it wasn’t quite enough. 

The image quickly shifted as he chased his climax. Maybe you’d want to press your fingers past the tight ring of his ass too till he was a shaking mess, cumming all over your face and chest. He did it himself sometimes, rocking back on his hand when he was really desperate to achieve a knee-weakening high. 

That almost did it, his hand sloppy with drool and precum all while you were just downstairs. 

These moments were the most delicious. When he stopped trying to deny himself of the fantasy—what was always buried in the back of his head when you came around. 

That you might touch him. That you might tell him how good he feels. That you might like it. 

But then the loud click of the door swinging shut on the main floor rang through the halls. And at the thought of you, gone once again, all the images were soured. Instead, the pressing reality wormed it’s way back in. Reminding him that he would only wake up in the morning—as he had so often done—crusted in cum and sweat and wondering if you were the type to stay the night or if you’d disappear from his bed just the way you did from the bar every time the others got a bit too close. 

And the more he allowed that thought to creep it’s way into his head, ripping away his climax, another compulsion grew. He could feel himself cresting a hill as you slipped right through his fingers—taking a nosedive straight into a disaster that smiled up at him with your pretty, pretty lips.  

***

It was just good business practice. 

That’s what Tomura repeated in his head, hoping from streetlight to streetlight just a block or so behind you. But nothing he did was ever strictly good, and the only thing even slightly business related about following you home tonight was that you happened to sort of work for him. 

Damn, you moved fast.

Tomura guessed that shouldn’t come as a shock considering your job depended on it, but it was a struggle not to lose sight of you. He ducked into doorways or alleys when you stopped to cross the street. Your form flitted quickly between the patches of neon-lit sidewalk, passing 24-hour convenience stores and clubs whose thick bass beats reverberated in the cool night air. 

He hung back when you finally began ascending the stairs of what seemed to be an apartment complex at the far side of a dead end. It looked shitty, but in a sort of charming way—vines growing haphazardly up the iron railings and paint chipping so the walls looked like an oil canvas from far away. Tomura watched you take the stairs two at a time until you disappeared into the depths of the building. 

In the stillness that followed, he began to question the point of all this. 

The decision to follow you was not well thought out.

After whipping the mess of spit and cum from his hands, Tomura had snuck out into the hall. Really, he’d only meant to listen, maybe catch an extra glimpse of you before the night ended. But then, through the halfhearted bantering and inane pissing contests, he caught you drifting towards the door. And as he watched you slip, really watched and felt the distance growing between you, something struck him. 

Maybe it was the way that sliver of light pollution from the doorway illuminated the dips and hollows of your profile. Or the sparkle of your coat buttons amongst the smoke from Dabi’s cigarettes. But more likely, it was the way you paused—one foot already in the street—and glanced at him for just a split second. Immediately catching his face hidden between the railings as though you could sense his gaze on you. Like you felt the same shiver down your spine. 

When your eyes roamed over him, they left tremors in their wake. 

It was pathetic. It was sad and disgusting—a part of him knew that—but just that one simple look, that small acknowledgement of his existence had him raging hard in his pants once again. 

Tomura moved without thinking, moved by the shameful compulsion to grab any scrap of attention you’d throw his way and cling to it. 

And now he was here, standing outside your apartment like the creep he knew he was, to do what exactly? What had he hoped to accomplish? He just...he wanted, needed to feel it again. So long he’d subsisted on incredibly complex daydreams and nightly fictional scenarios in which you kissed him and didn’t spit in revulsion at the feel of your lips on his. 

And when you looked at him, half caked in shadow and lit up with haze, he was overcome with a desperate, mortifying need to know for sure that all those dreams weren’t unfounded. 

Tomura Shigaraki wanted you so badly it hurt, like his ribs were cracking under the pressure of it. 

You gave him a crumb with that glance, but he was never known for his patience. No, he was greedy and selfish and he needed more. 

And for once, the powers that be seemed to have taken his side. Just a few minutes after you were swallowed up into the mass of concrete, a light flicked on in one of the upper windows. Through the drawn back curtains, Tomura was absolutely blessed by the sight of you—hands tugging the top from your shoulders and baring swathes of your naked skin for him to wonder at. 

If just a look could get him hard, then this might just kill him on the spot. 

You really shouldn’t be changing in the open like that. Anyone could be watching. 

But with a show this good, well it would be insulting not to take full advantage wouldn’t it? Of course. You’d want him to. How could he waste such a perfect opportunity to jerk himself off to the thought of fucking your perfect chest while he could actually see it. And oh, oh god your nipples were definitely hard and just begging to be sucked on. He could almost taste you in his mouth, feel how silky the buds would be against his tongue. 

Fuck. 

You were going to ruin him. 

Looking around, the street seemed to be deserted, no other buildings lit either. It wasn’t so much that he cared if anyone saw, but letting his guard down so out in the open was never very appealing. Though the visage of you, stripped and illuminated for him alone, was enough to over power any amount of trepidation. 

Tomura’s hand dipped back into his jeans, wrapping around his cock and stroking as best he could in the confined space. Precum streamed from the tip as he teased it with his thumb while you started to shimmy out of your pants. He whimpered at the glimpse of your ass on full display. 

His mind raced. 

You were both exactly and nothing at all what he expected. Which was more to say that the you that existed in his head was an amalgamation of all his favorite porn vids mashed into one, but this—this was nothing like he’d ever seen hastily sifting through tabs on his PC. 

There were marks and dips and curves and angles that he hadn’t thought of before. Hadn’t ever really seen without the separation of clothing and it was delicious and not nearly enough. God, his cock throbbed, gushing at the thought of your thighs around his waist, or head, or hiked over his shoulders. He could give you what you needed, he had no evidence of this but he just knew it. 

You stretched, and he could nearly hear the joints popping. Out in the open, exposed and so close to being caught, all of Tomura’s sense were heightened.  

God what he’d give to see your face, watching, knowing how hard he was for you. He could picture it now: the twinge of shock, the barely disguised pang of want. Maybe you’d be disgusted with him, but really this was all your fault. This is what you did to him. 

The wrongness of it all only made that much more enticing.

Tomura set a steady pace, pumping his hand along the length of his cock, so hard and dripping with every swipe of his thumb over the tip. You were shifting in and out of his view now, rummaging around what he assumed was your bedroom. It was physically painful every time you disappeared, a whine bubbling up in the back of his throat at the loss. 

His length pulsed against his palm and his toes curled inside his sneakers. 

Small, ragged gasps leaked through the cracks in his lips and condensed in the air. In the dim streetlight, the little clouds of condensation shifted and sparkled like sweat on taut skin. He envisioned drool dripping down onto your back as he pounded into you. His free hand dug into the meat of his thigh, pretending as though it was your flesh he was leaving fingerprint bruises on instead. 

Trying to convince himself this was anything other than what it was. 

Tomura’s hand moved faster, knuckles scraping the zipper of his jeans and spilling slow, thin streams of crimson onto his aching dick. It stung and stoked the coiling low in his gut. Fuck, his teeth ground down biting into phantom flesh. What he wouldn’t give to mouth at that perfect curve in your neck, run his tongue up the pulsing vein and hear whatever lovely noises spilled from your lips. 

He was so close to spilling over, but he just a bit more. He’d come this far already, why not dive just a little deeper off the edge?

It wasn’t entirely conscious, the quick steps he took across the street and up the stairs you’d taken. Tomura’s body was functioning on base instincts, carrying him mindlessly closer to the object of his desire. It wasn’t hard to find the right room. It wasn’t a large building, only a few units, and he swore he could smell the familiar scent of your soap wafting out from under the door. 

God he really was a pathetic fucking dog, sniffing you out while his dick was aching to rut into his own hand. 

But as he stood outside, debating whether to dust the whole wall separating your sweet, naked form from him or to pick the lock and slip inside, the knob turned on it’s own. Before he could even think of rushing back to the street, you were standing before him, eyes alight in a way he’d never seen before—wide and blazing and hungry. 

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura/reader #shigaraki/reader #tomura shigaraki #smut #tw dubcon #tw voyeurism #stalking #bee.writes

[parkersbliss]

Stubborn | Minho

Pairing: Minho x Female Reader

Warnings: blood, near death, cursing??

WC; 2.5K

synopsis: yes, it does take a near death experience to finally admit your feelings

a/n: probably my last imagine before 2021 SO HAPPY NEW YEAR BYE 2020

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“I’m just saying,” Newt said, arms crossed. “It would save everyone a lot of pain and headaches if one of you just said it.”

“I’m not a liar,” You replied.

“You’re lying to yourself right now,” Newt smirked, watching as your gaze hardened and you smacked his arm.

Thomas jogs up to the two of you, taking one glance at Newt rubbing his arm and you pursing your lips and looking the other way.

“Newt’s right.”

You spin around, mouth open, “How did you?—”

Thomas shrugs, “Call it a third sense, but whatever he said about Minho, you should listen.”

You scoff at the two boys, thoughts running around in your head.

You were in love with your best friend, it was plain as day.

But saying that to his face? That was something that would never happen. Minho was your best friend, he was your other half and to tell him how you feel and ruin that… well that’s just selfish of you. He was also your running partner, you spent almost the entire day together and the last thing you need is for him to leave you alone in the maze after some stupid confession.

Point is, there was too much at stake. It was an unnecessary risk that you didn’t want to take.

“I bet she’s thinking about his muscles,” Thomas snickers, playfully nudging Newt’s shoulder.

Newt giggles, “When is she not? Who knows what goes on when they’re inside the maze.”

You roll your eyes, smacking both of them, “Both of you, slim it.”

“Can’t handle the truth, (Y/N)?” Thomas teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’ll make sure to leave you alone in the maze next time.”

Thomas’s eyes widen, “Okay, hey we were joking! Minho’s ugly anyway.”

“The hell?” Another voice breaks in. “I’m hotter than both of you combined.”

Heat flares in your cheeks as you glance at your running partners who stumbled onto your early morning conversation.

Newt pats Minho’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile, “yes, yes of course.”

Minho swats his hand away, glaring at him, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Say it like what?” Newt said innocently before disappearing to the gardens.

Thomas holds his hands up in defense, “All jokes,” he coughs, meeting your eyes. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you guys later.”

Thomas turns to leave but not before sending a wink your way. You glare at him, mouthing the words ‘slim it' while drawing a finger across your throat.

A small hand on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts.

Minho looks at you with his brown eyes, and you’re not sure how to act.

You can’t process anything, and if he’s speaking to you, you don’t hear it. All you can focus on is him, and everything about him. He’s clouding your senses, making it hard to see but you don’t mind.

“Did you hear me?” Minho asked, now placing both hands on his hips.

You blink, nodding, “Yes, loud and clear.”

“Okay,” Minho drawls, “what did I say?”

Damn him, you think.

“Gally sucks toes?”

“Cute, but no, Although I wouldn’t be surprised if that was true,” Minho muses. “I said Fry is finishing up our lunches and then we’re good to go.”

You let out a loud sigh, “Do we have to?” You ask Minho, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, bopping your nose, “you signed up for this.”

“Yeah right,” you snort, “more like you forced me to be here.”

“Forced and extensively encouraged are two different things.”

You cross your arms and raised your eyebrows at the brown-eyed boy, “You know what, I’m pretty sure this is just an excuse to hang out with me.”

“Oh you wish, eight hours in the Maze with you and your whining is enough.”

“If I’m that annoying why not go with Thomas sometime?” You challenge.

Minho’s silent, “He's somehow worse than you.”

You pat Minho on the chest as you walk by to pick up your lunches, “Okay, lover boy.”

“It’s true!” He calls out after you, trying to defend himself.

Was he that obvious? He’s glad your back is turned to him and you can’t see how red his cheeks have gotten.

He shakes his head, breathing in deeply. This wasn’t part of the plan, not that he had a plan.

He planned to run until he found a way out of here, but even that plan didn’t work. At some point, he had given up. He had come to terms with the fact that there was no escape. He’s known that for years. It ate him from the inside out, knowing that everyone counted on him to find a way out and he already knew the answer.

But he couldn’t let the other Glader’s feel like he did, he couldn’t watch them lose hope. He’d spend every day running if it meant they didn’t end up like him, empty and cold.

But then you came along.

And when you arrived, Minho had something worth fighting for. A little blossom of hope in his heart that with you here, he had to find a way out.

And then you became a runner, and Minho took his chance.

He was amazed that you didn’t give up, even when he told you that he’d run the whole thing. You had this spark in your eye, you looked him in the eye and you told him,

“There’s always a way out, we’re just not looking in the right place or the right thing.”

Funny enough, you hadn’t made any progress since then.

Unless you count Minho catching feelings for you, but he wouldn’t consider that progress.

“Hey! Think fast,” You said, tossing Minho his sandwich.

Of course, Minho being in deep thought about you slows his actions and he barely catches his lunch, almost tripping in the process.

You’re stood across from him, smirk adorning your face, “Nice catch.”

“Thanks,” he said, “I’d like to see you do better.”

“I probably could,” You shrug.

Minho scoffs, mumbling something under his breath as you drag him toward the maze. Thomas waves from his spot, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you flip him off.

The door slowly opens and once there’s enough space, the two of you take off.

…

You and Minho were a bit more cautious now that Ben had been stung in broad daylight, it was something no one had ever seen in the Glade.

It never really crossed your mind that something like that could happen, but now that it did, everyone was a bit more on edge.

It was like you could sense the trouble looming over you, that the worse was yet to come, but no one said anything.

No one wanted to say anything.

You slow your pace, leaning against a wall to take a sip from your water. You make sure to not let Minho too far out of your sight, the last time it happened didn’t end very well.

You debate calling out to him, but you let him go, needing to save your breath. You don’t doubt he’ll notice soon enough. You close your eyes, resting for a bit… just a little while longer.

“(Y/N)!”

You sigh, pushing yourself off the wall as you jog to catch up with Minho.

“Present!” You announce, waving your hands.

He shakes his head, grabbing your hand, “you’re sticking with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” You wink, watching as Minho turns away from you, hiding his flushed face.

His hand fits in your like it’s meant to be, but you don’t believe in stuff like that.

You do, however, believe in how you don’t want to let it go. It made you feel safer, it’s a stupid thought but it does.

You trust that when you’re holding onto him, nothing bad will happen, and if it did, he’s there.

Your run is slowed to more of a walk as the sun reaches high noon, beating down on both of you, sweating accumulating on your neck.

You can feel the strain of your run pulling on your muscles, but you’d grown accustomed to the feeling.

Minho turns back to look at you, he’s about to open his mouth but he’s quick to snap it shut.

“Did you hear that?" He asks.

“Hear wh-”

You fall silent when you hear the sounds of clanking followed by low growls.

Minho’s eyes widen as he looks at you, and you look back at him mirroring the same expression.

“We need to get back to the Glade,” Minho said slowly. His eyebrows are furrowed as he listens for the Griever in order to choose the best path of escape. Your instincts tell you the best plan of escape is the east door, but then the maze falls silent.

The quiet is somehow deafening, save for your heart pounding madly in your chest. At any moment, it could strike, it could walk around any corner and kill you both.

You’d never know until it was too late.

Minho squeezes your hand tightly, his back towards your own as you watch all the possible places the griever could come from.

And the lucky winner was where you happened to be looking. The griever comes racing around the corner, it’s screeching filling the air mixing with your own.

“Holy shit!” You scream, feeling Minho tug on your hand and pull you to what was hopefully an exit.

You push yourself to go faster, the last thing you wanted was to be eaten by a griever of all things. You try not to think about how it’s closing in on you, or how you might die here. Instead, you try and focus on your breathing and the way Minho is gripping on tightly to your hand. You will yourself to try and think of anything else but the creature chasing you. This is what you were training for, running.

Running even when you feel out of breath, running even when your legs are begging you to stop, running because it’s the only thing that’ll save you.

It never ends, and it never stops.

Minho takes a sharp left and you follow, looking behind you for the briefest second only to see the griever reaching out for you.

It happens in a flash, you can feel it’s claw pierce your skin, tearing at it as you run. You grit your teeth, seething in pain as you collapse.

Minho turns around to find you, eyes widening as he sees the griever looming above you.

“Go!” You shout, propping yourself against a wall.

Minho shakes his head, standing his ground as he looks from the griever to you.

“Trust me, Minho! Go!”

Minho’s hesitant, he couldn’t leave you, what if you bled out and died on him? What kind of person would he be then? What would he do when he loses the one thing he has left to fight for?

“Please,” You beg, eyes teary.

Minho feels his heart shatter in his chest as he realizes you’re right, he should go.

But not without taking the griever with him.

Minho finds a stray rock on the ground, feeling it in his hand before he chucks it at the creature.

It makes a sound, one then he could never forget as it turns away from you and lunges for him.

Minho looks to you, giving you a curt nod before making a run for it, the griever following him.

You lean your head back against the wall, ignoring the pain in your leg as you let the tears silently flow down your face as you watch him disappear.

Of course, he had to play the hero. You should be grateful, really, but you can’t. How can you be grateful when he was risking his life for one that was already gone?

You’d accepted your fate, you knew you were going to die here and you could face that.

But Minho had to screw it all up and risk himself too, it wasn’t fair. You didn’t know if he would come back to you, or if he did, If you’d still be alive.

Would one of you die before you get to say the words you’ve so desperately wanted to? Was the world this cruel?

Did it take one of you dying for you to finally accept what you already knew? You couldn’t imagine dying before you tell him, but leaving him with that… was that not crueler than any fate he could succumb to?

You use your hand that’s not grabbing your bleeding leg to wipe away your tears. If Minho didn’t come back, if someone didn’t come back, you’d sure be griever food.

Maybe you’d die before having to be ripped apart limb by limb.

The pain in your leg because nothing more than a dull ache as you breathe out slowly. You let your eyes fall shut, hoping to catch up on some much-needed rest while you pray Minho’s returns.

But when he does, it’s a sight he knows he’ll never forget.

His heart sinks in his chest when he sees you, laying in a pool of blood, chest barely rising and falling.

He kneels before you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face and hold back his sobs.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?”

When there’s no reply he begins panicking, tying to (as gently as possible) coax you awake. He grabs your shoulders, shaking you as he begs you to wake up.

Eventually, your eyes flutter open and Minho feels like he can breathe again as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Oh thank god.”

“You came back?” You ask softly.

He nods, pulling back you, “I’ll always come back.”

You reach out for his hands, which he gives you, squeezing them tightly.

“I love you,” You said, eyes fluttering shut again as you’re stuck with a wave of pain.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, babe,” Minho replies easily, dismissing your three words. This wasn’t the time to think about it, right now, he needed to get you back. “You’re a bit out of it from the amount of blood you lost, can you walk?” He asked, standing up.

You pull him back down, “Minho, I love you.”

He shakes his head, “we need to get you back to the medhut.”

“Minho,” You plead, you couldn’t die without him knowing.

He ignores you and instead, helps you to your feet leaning you against him and slowly being the journey back to the Glade.

You never asked what happened to the griever.

…

You groan, rolling onto your side as you wipe the sleep from your eyes. You blink when you realize that you were in a wooden hut that was most certainly not the maze, and then you look down at the hand interlocked with yours.

A hand that belonged to none other than your running partner.

When you meet his eyes, he’s already staring at you.

“Hi,” You said.

“Hey,” he breathes out, still taking in two much better you look. He’s still trying to delete the image of you in the maze out of his mind, but it might be something he was to live with.

“how do you feel?”

“Like shit,” you answer, “But it’s okay.”

“How are you?”

“Better.”

A silence hangs in the room, it’s heavy and you know what has to be said to clear it.

“I meant what I said.”

“What?”

You roll your eyes, tugging his hand with yours to your chest. “What I said in the maze, I meant it.”

“You said a lot of things in the maze.”

You stare up at the medhut ceiling, breathing out deeply. “I love you, Minho.”

There’s silence, and then, “Look me in the eye and say it.”

You turn to look at him, meeting his eyes with great ease and seeing the tears pool behind him.

“I love you, Minho. I always have.”

He diverts his gaze away from you, eyes falling to the floor before finally meeting yours again, a smile adorning his face.

“I love you too.”

— END —

🏷 Minho Taglist: @emeliii1 @bwndito @remusflirts

#minho the maze runner #tmr minho x reader #minho tmr #minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x you #tmr minho #minho imagines #minho #the maze runner x you #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner headcanon #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner #the scorch trials

[jeanslongschlong]

i got bored and wrote this at 3:30 in the morning...so...enjoy, i guess?

warnings: extremely nsfw content, graphic descriptions of sex, choking, overstimulation, degradation, dom!jean, mirror kink, breeding kink (if u squint)

word count: 3.4k

nsfw under the cut! 

the sound of the rain tapping against your living room window was the only thing keeping you awake as you lay across your sectional couch, snuggling a blanket that had been closest to you. jean was working late again, which was becoming more and more common as the days went on. at first you hadn’t minded; you knew that he was a prized detective, and that the agency valued his work. plus, jean loved his job. he raved about it constantly; about his coworkers, the crazy people he encountered while conducting investigations, even about his ‘emotionless, ocd stricken’ boss that always scolded him for filling out his paperwork sloppily. and you loved to listen, loved to see that excited glint in his eyes when he got all worked up, the genuine happiness on his face as he reminisced over a recently solved case, and hearing the animation and liveliness in his voice. but you were starting to feel…rather forgotten. you knew it wasn’t jean’s fault, and you would never blame him for it. jean would never neglect you on purpose, you were his world and he never let you forget it. but with him working all day, then coming home so late at night…you saw him for thirty minutes a day, max. and that was if you were lucky enough to wake up right as he was about to leave for work and engage him in brief conversation. it was starting to weigh on you, and you didn’t know how much longer you could bare it.

you didn’t want to bring it up, though, the fact that it bothered you. you had thought about it multiple times, had even started to at one point, you just didn’t want him to think it was his fault. you also didn’t want to hold him back in his career…you would never forgive yourself, and – fuck…it was so complicated. you let out a huff, pulling the blanket you were holding closer to your chest and taking in a deep whiff of jean’s lingering scent that stuck to the blanket like glue. the scent comforted you, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes. you were exhausted. today had been one of the days that you had managed to catch jean on his way out the door, so you had easily been awake since 6 in the morning. it was now 2 am, and you were just barely clinging to consciousness. you had wanted to wait up until jean got home, but…your body needed sleep. craved it. so, you finally put your troubled thoughts to rest, telling yourself you’d fret over them later, and fell into the outstretched and waiting arms of dreamland.

it was nearing four in the morning when jean finally unlocked the door to your shared apartment and stepped inside, shouldering off his jacket and hanging it limply on the coatrack. he sighed, rubbing at his temples as he toed off his shoes and padded into the kitchen to set down his keys and get a glass of water. his head was pounding, and negative thoughts were swimming around competitively in his brain, fighting over which could hold his attention the longest. he had many things nagging at him that night: the unsolved case that lay practically untouched and collecting dust on his desk, the long lecture that his boss had given him as he was leaving the office about his performance being ‘unsatisfactory’ for someone of his rank, and most importantly, he missed you. he missed you so fucking badly that it was affecting his ability to focus, which in turn effected his work performance, hence the long ass lecture that deputy director levi had given him as he left only half an hour before. he knew that he probably should have listened to said lecture and probably taken advice, as well, but all he could think about as levi rambled on and on about his slow performance was getting home to you. seeing you. loving you. touching you. tasting you- he spilled water on his pants and cursed, scrambling to grab a towel to wipe up the mess.

unfortunately, he cursed rather loudly as the water had made contact with his slacks, and he had unintentionally roused you from your sleep. you made your way sleepily into the kitchen and yawned, stretching your arms up above your head and gaining jean’s attention. he frowned upon seeing your sleep tousled appearance, giving you a once over then moving to pull you into a hug. you nestled your face into his neck, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

“shit, i’m sorry, baby…were you asleep?” he murmured, gently carding his hands through your hair. you nodded, moving away a little so that you could see his face.

“’s fine, i had only been asleep for an hour or so, anyways…you okay? i heard you curse…you sounded really mad.” jean’s face reddened, and he looked down.

“i was going to get myself some water and accidentally spilled it on myself. it was a clumsy, stupid mistake, but it’s what i get for coming home at four in the morning.” you scoffed a little, training your eyes on the slowly disappearing stain on his pants.

“hard day at work? you seem tense.” you reached out a hand and ran it down the length of his left bicep, gently rubbing your thumb against his skin. he perked up a bit at your touch.

“nothing that i can’t handle. come on, y/n, let’s get you into bed. you look like you’re going to pass out any minute now.” he moved to guide you into your shared bedroom, but you planted your heels into the ground and shook your head, shooting him an intense look. he paused, puzzled at your actions.

“i don’t want to sleep. i never get to see you, this may be the only chance i get to talk to you until next fucking week.” your words came out harsher than you intended them to, and jean inhaled sharply upon hearing them.

“i know…fuck, i’m sorry, y/n. i know that i work too much, i really need to stop, but-“

“i know. the case is important.”

“and levi-“

“is up your ass about it, i know. you’ve told me.” jean lets out a defeated sigh and moved to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair and plopping into it. he put his head in his hands and grasped at his hair harshly. you moved to sit next to him and waited for him to speak.

“this job is really important. and if i solve this case, the bonus i’d get would be big enough to keep us comfortable for many years to come…i don’t want to jeopardize that, but also…our relationship…” he paused and looked up at you, taking in your appearance and analyzing your face. the corners of your lips looked like they were struggling not to turn downwards. he sighed. “how are you feeling?”

“…forgotten.” the words hung heavy in the air, and jean stayed silent, so, you continued. “i know it’s not what you intend to make me feel. you go to work with me in the back of your mind everyday, you come home to me and kiss my cheeks every time you get in bed next to me…i feel you do it. but…you’re never here…and it just…it makes me feel-“

“no. no, no, no. y/n…fuck. i’ll take less hours if you want me to…so that we can spend more time together. i’d probably have to work on the weekends sometimes, but-“

“no, that’s not what i want.” you stood from your chair, looking down at him in a way that he couldn’t describe. he ran another hand through his hair. were you about to break up with him? honestly, he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

“then what do you want? i-“ and then you were on him, like a lion pouncing on its prey, your lips claiming his roughly and passionately. your tongue slipped into his mouth, igniting a fiery dance that had him moaning and gasping for air. he reached up and grabbed onto your waist, pulling you on top of him so that you were straddling his lap. his hips involuntarily bucked up and ground against yours, causing moans to fall from both of your lips at the friction. soon enough you were dry humping each other like horny teenagers who had never been touched; his hands were gripping your hips so tightly that they were sure to leave finger-shaped bruises in their wake. not that you minded. you could feel that familiar coil wound tight in your core, threatening to unravel at any moment when he stopped his ministrations completely, causing a frustrated whine to slip from your mouth. he smirked at this, one of his fingers trailing from your belly button, up through the valley of your breasts and up the side of your neck, finally landing on your lips. you took it into your mouth with hesitation, greedily sucking on his digit and pulling a delicious moan from him.

“fuck, baby…look at you.” he pushed a second finger into your mouth and you were quick to start lapping at that one as well, swirling your tongue around the both of them as if it were his cock that were in your mouth. “you missed me so badly, didn’t you, slut? i can feel your wetness seeping through your shorts and getting onto my pants. so needy…” you started to move away from his hand so you could answer, but he shoved his fingers back into your throat and you almost gagged, but stopped yourself. “ah, ah, ah. talk tomorrow…tonight you are mine.” jean’s pupils were blown wide with lust as he watched a string of saliva drip down your chin and onto your chest, slowly running down the slope of one of your breasts.

jean removed his fingers from your mouth, leaving you to gasp for air, and carried you to your bedroom, tossing you not so gently onto the bed and descending on you almost as quickly as you had gotten settled. his lips hungrily reclaimed yours and his hands were desperately mapping every inch of your body, skimming over the soft curve of your hips and the smooth skin of your waist, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he stopped to appreciate your breasts, grabbing and caressing the supple flesh before tweaking your nipples and causing you to arch into his touch and gasp into his mouth. in response to this, he growled hungrily and grabbed onto your throat and squeezed, progressively tightening his hold on you as time passed. his tongue moved effortlessly against yours, you just fit so perfectly against each other and it felt so agonizingly good. you were beginning to see stars from the pressure on your windpipes, and just as your vision began to get spotty he let go, gently rubbing at your now red skin in a sort of sadistic apology.

“god, you’re such a slut…took it so good. hold up your arms.” he demanded, and you complied, lifting your arms up above your head so he could pull your shirt off and throw it away from you, leaving it forgotten and in a heap on the floor. and then he was kissing you again, but your neck this time. his kisses were so passionate and rough that you were still gasping for breath, moaning every so often when he decided to take your skin in between his teeth and bite down, leaving a deep purple mark behind. his lips found his way down to the waistband of your pants, and he looked up to you to ask for permission. you nodded impatiently and lifted your hips so that he could pull the unwanted fabric away from you, leaving you bare and vulnerable in front of him. you were completely naked before him now, and he hungrily drank in the sight.

“fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous…and all mine. now open your legs for me, baby…let me see how wet you are.” his voice was husky and deep, which shot a pang of warmth straight to your core. you complied to his request and slowly opened your legs. his eyes were hooded as if he were drunk on expensive wine as he took in the sight before him, and he braced his hands on your thighs, caressing the sensitive skin next to your center. it sent a shiver down your spine, and you whimpered at the contact. your eyes locked with his in a silent beg to touch you, to give you the orgasm he had denied you not that much earlier. jean gave you a smug smirk, then dove in between your thighs, his tongue assaulted your clit.

you let out a strangled cry at the sudden sensation of his tongue against the most sensitive parts of your body, and your hips jerked up in retaliation, but he held you down by placing one hand on your lower belly and another anchored your left thigh to the bed, keeping you spread before him as he greedily lapped at your fold. his name was falling off your tongue in pants now, and you felt yourself nearing your release. you thighs trembled as he continued his vicious assault with his tongue. you weren’t going to last much longer, you could feel yourself tipping over the edge, you were starting to see white-

“holy FUCK, jean, oh my fucking god, yes.” he had shoved two fingers into you that were now curling up and hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. a prideful smile was ever so present on jean’s lips.

“yeah? you like that baby? come on, cum for me…yes, that’s it…good girl…” you bucked your hips up to meet every thrust of his fingers as you rode out your orgasm. his tongue was still attached to your clit the entire time, causing you to violently shudder at the overstimulation. jean waited a few moments before removing his fingers from your heat and licking them clean, making eye contact with you all the while.

“so sweet…” he mused, moving to kiss you on the lips. he grabbed your chin and gently prodded your mouth open, then spit into it before forcing your mouth shut again. you swallowed and moaned at the absolute lewdness of the action itself. you could taste yourself on your tongue…it was surprisingly hot. “you like the taste, baby? make sure to swallow every drop…”

“yes…fuck.” your head lolled back as you reached down to palm his erection through his trousers, pulling a delicious groan from his mouth. his head fell back at the sensation of finally being touched, but only allowed you to touch him briefly before backing away and impatiently undoing his belt and pants and undressing himself. soon you found yourselves face to face with each other, his member lined up with your entrance. he leaned down to capture your mouth with his once more before pushing into you. you both moaned at the feeling of him filling you up to the fucking brim, the tip of his cock kissed your cervix barely as he finally bottomed out inside of you. jean loosed a shuddering breath and looked down at you to meet your eyes.

“fuck, i love you.” and you were kissing again, his hips starting to rapidly piston in and out of you, causing the headboard of your bed to slap against the wall violently. you couldn’t find it in you to care. the feeling of him filling you then pulling all the way out just to fill you to the brim over and over again was bringing tears to your eyes, and the added pressure of his hand squeezing at your throat was making you see stars. soon enough you were coming undone once more, moaning loudly and arching your back off of the bed as your walls squeezed around jean’s cock, causing him to hiss out a string of curses. you were gripping at his shoulders to get him to give you a minute to come down from your high, but he just kept fucking you through your orgasm, his eyes trained on the delicious image of him thrusting in and out of you and reveling in the lewd sounds your bodies were making. you whined and scratched at his back to get him to give you a breather, which normally would have spurred him on to go faster, but this time he pulled out of you completely and sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“jean…what’re you doing? you didn’t get to-“

“oh no, baby, we’re not done yet…” jean bucked his hips up a bit and his cock rubbed against your entrance. the friction pulled a moan from both of your lips and your head fell back on his shoulder from the exhaustion that both of your orgasms had brought you. jean reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look ahead into the full-length mirror you had in your room. your face flushed at the image before you and jean laughed seductively, tightening his grip on your jaw and slipping his ring and middle fingers into your mouth.

“look at you…such a slut for me…think you can take my cock one more time?” you nodded aggressively and squirmed a bit in his lap, desperately trying to get him back inside of you. “patience…patience, baby. so greedy…” he chuckled and gently lifted your hips before sinking you down onto him in one fell swoop. he wasted no time in allowing you to adjust and started fucking up into you at a relentless pace, causing you to scream out and dig your nails into his arms.

“look at you taking my cock so well…look how much your body is enjoying being used like a toy…fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous bouncing on my cock like that.” your head threatened to loll back again at the intensity of his thrusts and he forcibly turned your head to face the mirror again, your eyes locking in the reflection. “if you look away, i stop. watch it. watch me fuck your tight little cunt until you can’t take it anymore.” you whined at this and trained your eyes on the mirror, keeping eye contact with him for a lot of it.  but you knew you weren’t going to last, and he knew it too; he could feel your walls constricting around him and his cock twitching in return, threating to spill inside of you at any moment. the sight alone was more erotic than you had ever thought it would be, and it was turning you on more than you thought possible. you let out a particularly loud moan, and jean knew you were tipping over the edge for the third time.

“that’s it, baby, cum for me.” so you did. “good girl…good girl…cum all over my cock. ah, ah, ah…keep your eyes as the mirror. i want you to watch as i fill you to the brim with my cum. i want you to watch it leak out of you as i pull out of you. keep your eyes on me.” you almost came again at his words but he didn’t give you the chance; he came inside of you after one last particularly bruising thrust up into you, his hips stuttering a bit as he came down from his release.

the two of you sat there for a few moments to catch your breath. jean ran his hands up and down your arms to soothe you, then slowly pulled out of you. cum dripped out of you and onto the comforter beneath you. you let out another moan at the sight and jean chuckled, reaching around your bodies to gather the cum that had leaked out of you on one of his fingers, then pushed it back inside of you. you spasmed a bit at this, it was too much.

“jean, i can’t, it’s too much-“ he kissed your temple and pulled his finger back out of you, laughing softly.

“i know, baby…but you don’t want any of it to go to waste, do you?”

yeah…you two regularly incorporated mirrors into your sex life after that…

#aot oneshots #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk

[hitozy]

𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖘𝖔 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊♡︎

pairing! deku x female reader

tw! pseudo incest, semi-public sex. +18 // minors DNI //

it had been a while since he'd last seen you, he's guessing since he entered UA but somehow it seemed much longer than that. your appearance was not the one he remembered from his little sister he grew up with, taking care of her, playing heroes while your parents were away on business trips.

his friends had decided to celebrate the opening of his agency by going out to the club, he had never imagined to see you there. he certainly didn't expect to see how much you had changed and grown during the past four years. his friends also noted the same thing from the way they racked their eyes up and down your body in that beautiful tight dress.

when you walked up to hug him, he could feel the way your tits pressed against his chest, the top of your cleavage visible to him and just him, for some reason he felt his pants just a bit tighter than usual.

you were explaining to him that you came to celebrate a uni friend's birthday but had seen him come in just in time to say hi. when you departed from your friends to join his party, he questioned if you would be missed, to which you answered, "izuku-ni, i've missed you".

as the night progressed it became clearer to him that his little sister was not as little anymore, especially when you pressed your ass against him. it wasn't until the four song that he finally snapped, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. his hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you face back to look up to his eyes. dilated and filled with lust, a soft blush across his cheeks.

"does my little sister want to play?"

your slight nod was all the permission he needed.

-

izuku couldn't understand how something that felt so right, could be seen so wrong?

he had brought you to the public bathroom just for this and he had seen in your eyes his full intention of bending your over the sink and fucking you stupid.

the way you cunt squeezed him in felt heavenly, your beautiful moans and pleas to make him stop were sonnets, the sweat on your skin as sweet as caramel.

"izuku-ni, s-stop, someone will hear us!"

he held onto your waist tighter and drew one of his hands up to your neck, applying enough pressure as a warning.

"that's why I told you to be quiet, but if you can't, then I'll do it for you, sweetheart."

he continued thrusting into your gummy walls, trying to make you come again on his cock. he inserted two of his fingers into your mouth with a simple, "suck". your izuku-ni was only trying to help you stay quiet.

he continued to thrust into your cunt, circling your clit with his free hand, pushing your hips onto the sink further and further. somewhere in your mind, you knew it would leave some bruises later. but you couldn't bring yourself to think more about it, not when his thick cock was hitting all the right places.

you came much to soon for either of your liking, creaming on his cock. he bit your shoulder hard as you came and held onto your waist to keep you upright. even during your orgasm he kept on thrusting, not relenting at all, your oversensitive walls begging for a break but when you caught his gaze on the mirror you just couldn't stop him.

not when he looked so far gone in pleasure, a bright red blush across his cheeks, his lips swollen from kissing and his curls even messier than usual. he looked so pretty. he leaned forward and thrusted right onto your sweet spot, making your eyes glimmer. "gonna fuck you until you can't take it anymore, so you better scream for your ni-chan."

not when he looked so far gone in pleasure, a bright red blush across his cheeks, his lips swollen from kissing and his curls even messier than usual. he looked so pretty. he leaned forward and thrusted right onto your sweet spot, making your eyes glimmer. "gonna fuck you until you can't take it anymore, so you better scream for your ni-chan."

but you weren't aware that his friends are outside of the bathroom, listening to him pound you. the music not loud enough to cancel out your previous noises. he wasn't going to stop though, not until you came all over his cock again, until all you had in your mind was your izuku-ni.

@rat-zuki

#midoriya smut #its pseudo incest because you grew up with him like a lil sis #the deku agenda escapes no one collab #tw: pseudo incest #tw: semi public sex

[enjeolmii]

coffee - s.jy

genre: mostly angst, a little fluff towards the end

word count: 1.7k

warnings: overdose on caffeine, passing out, i think that’s all :))

"Y/n, you should stop drinking coffee. You have to watch out for yourself, too," Jake says slowly, sitting his hand on your shoulder with the other one on the heavy cup you are holding. "Four is enough."

Your eyes shift to his expression, one that conveyed clear emotions of concern. This was supposed to be your fifth cup of the day.

Studying for the exams has never been so stressful. The amount of pressure dangling on your shoulders is much unbearable than how you expected it to be. Having parents who never supported your dream certainly took a toll on you, and living with a flawless sister all your life was never any help for your self-esteem. Being the low-grade sister between you two gave you comparisons aplenty. Everywhere you look, no matter where you go, you always find taunts and mockery preying on you. All your life, you got discredited by most of your relatives in light of your sister.

And you want to prove them wrong.

Getting higher grades is what it is. All she's ever good at is cheating off of her friends' answer sheets. It's a secret she threatened you to keep. Ever since she saw you and Jake hanging out alone in the swimming room, a picture she'd taken is all it would take for your parents to wash their hands of you.

And then, there's also getting the favor of all your family. She's prettier, sweeter, hard-working, and smarter. Everyone is biased on her nonexistent efforts, yet you - who has tried everything she can do to show her utmost best to be acknowledged by the people around her - were forsaken and left overlooked.

But it wasn't until Jake happened.

Only he saw the struggles you faced and outweighed. He conceded how far down the road you'd made it yourself and never forgot to make you feel worthy of his praises. He is the only one who understood the motive behind your desperation, and he is the only one who supported your dream.

So you wanted to make him proud. This exam will serve as the last movement to get into the performing arts school you long sought to join. To lose this opportunity means losing all you endear, and you wouldn't be sure how well you will hold up if you let this chance slip away.

That is all you can say for five cups of coffee.

"As much as I would love to stop, I'm not yet done studying. I need to ace this test." You peel his grip off of your cup, squeezing it as you offer a hesitant smile of reassurance, and he lets out a sigh.

"You aced all your activities and went home bringing the highest grades in your class," His palms find purchase on your shoulders. "You are doing so well now. Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?" A short silence follows your sigh.

"Jake, I have only been compared to my sister all my life. This is the only time I can prove them wrong. I want to feel incomparable, too. I want them to know that I am not a punching bag that they can just play around with," You clarify through clenched teeth, a recollection of all the memories flashing past your eyes. "You know that better than anyone."

Your boyfriend couldn't help but feel bad for you. He understood. All those times you leaned on him when you felt like giving up, every moment you called him and texted him asking for motivation, he knows how much you went through, and it casts him down that you never acknowledged how much progress and improvement you have shown.

You became more assertive and bolder, and he is happy that you are finally standing up for yourself. However, he couldn't learn to accept seeing you lose long hours of sleep over studying. For days, you ran on caffeine to help you stay awake and scan through your textbooks as long as you were satisfied. You pushed yourself to the limits, bypassing the pleasure of taking a rest and instead etching all significant terms on the topic of your exam in your mind. You disregarded the accomplishments you made for yourself and went on thinking that you never achieved enough to get a compliment from your loved ones, which is what Jake could not understand.

"Yes, I know that. But drinking more coffee isn't going to help you, is it?" He signifies, and you let a dry laugh through your nose.

"Give me one reason caffeine doesn't help." You smirk at him. Sure, your method is trash, and everything about it is not entirely definitive. But, can you really do anything about it? No, well, not that you know of. Your sister is studying in the same field, and it is only a matter of skill to win against her. If you gain a point or two higher, it is more than enough to crush her pride and bring yours up. The hidden thirst you have for acceptance is slowly showing, and you all but feel determined to see how far you can take it to get the better of her.

"Too much of it doesn't bring you to the top. It brings you to a hospital bed."

Your smile vanishes at his answer. What he said is true, but to hear an accurate response to your insincere quest only irritates you. You set the mug down on the countertop before crossing your arms, feeling the weight of his hands on your shoulders disappear, and you poke your tongue to the side of your cheek. "So what do you want me to do?" You assert, voice laced with irritation and disinterest.

"Take a break. Continue studying when your mind's not exhausted."

"My mind is not exhausted."

"Babe, you've been in front of your books since early sunrise. It's already two in the morning." He protests, and you look at him with a tinge of bitterness.

He shoots you worried gazes as his hands travel to yours, squeezing and swaying them side to side, and you sigh. "I don't care what time it is. I can take a rest tomorrow after the exam." You retract his grip from yours, taking the coffee cup back in your hands before stepping back into your room. "I need to study."

"Y/n... Please!" Jake follows close behind you, continuously begging. Suddenly, your head becomes heavy. Pain strikes your upper nape every time he calls for your name, ears abruptly ringing at the volume he whines. Black spots appear in your vision, along with the feeling of getting lightheaded. Your eyes shut tight in discomfort. As though your head will fall off the moment you move it around, you lose all senses, the sound of him calling you blurring away.

One moment, you groan with a hand rubbing slow circles at your temple. And another moment, the shattering sound of your mug against the floor reaches your ears, legs giving out as you feel your boyfriend's arms supporting your fall.

Panic replaces the distress in Jake's expression. Frantically, he lightly shakes your body in an attempt to wake you up, and when all taps and raps decline, he locks his arms around your arms and knees, hastily lifting you towards your bedroom.

Through the piles of answer sheets sprawled on the floor, he tiptoes his way to gently lay you on your bed, snatching the pillows under your head to pile them beneath your feet.

A heavier sigh escapes. He moves to sit by your side against the headboard, looking down at your vulnerable form as he sweeps strands of hair away from your face.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He utters through whispers. "You just never learn to give up, even when you know it's going to be hard on you."

Running his fingers gently through your hair, he frowns. He admires it of you - how you always manage to get what you want.

It's how he fell in love with you. It's how you caught his heart. The confidence that inclined his interest when you represented the class's agitated thoughts towards your unqualified professor, not a single fear of the consequences ahead.

Then, having made known that you were never able to use that confidence in front of your family hit a soft spot in his heart. So he wanted to help you get the recognition you desired, stayed with you in your highest and lowest, up until now.

"Why can't you see the significance behind everything you have outdone? You've fulfilled enough to show your family that you are incomparable, yet you're never satisfied with yourself," The air grows silent. "I guess you want to hear it directly from them. Is that how you're going to be? Thinking of yourself the way others think of you... Do you know why I love you? Because you are a kind, persevering, and confident person. I didn't love you because you are smarter than your sister. Hearing confirmation from others isn't everything, love, there are still other people who think you are flawless."

A few more minutes of stroking your head and one good look at your subtle breathing are all it takes for Jake to get up from the bed before bitterly watching the spilled coffee wither onto the corridor floor across the open door. "Now, look at the mess I'll have to clean," He stressfully stretches his neck, eyes closed. Just as he takes a step away to tidy up the mess, a hand reaches to grab his arm.

"I'm sorry," You mumble, eyes still closed. "I was getting too competitive I didn't realize you were here for me. I didn't mean to get mad at you," You tug at him. "Stay here, I'll clean that later when we wake up. For now, let's go to sleep." You make space for him on your bed, a small smile pulling at his lips as he gladly lays down beside you, setting his arm under your head while you wrap an arm around his body. "Thank you, love."

Jake looks at you, smile growing wider before placing a long kiss on your forehead. "I'll always love you no matter what."

You mirror his expression, snuggling closer to him as you say, "I love you, too."

a/n: i saw that there are lots of you who are preparing for exams right now... if you are one of them, then thank you for reading this and procrastinating a lil bit :D i wish you all the best!! drink your water and stay healthy always!!! 💖🥰

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