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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway.

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity.

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him.

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them.

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall.

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure.

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people.

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway.

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him.

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks.

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago.

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling.

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later.

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene.

“I very much am not,” you huff.

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly.

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?”

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling.

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue.

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand.

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.”

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing.

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context.

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime.

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings.

No one’s around, which is good.

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck.

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body.

Nothing’s changed.

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them.

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly.

He can’t stop staring at them.

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.”

Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.”

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention.

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering.

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.”

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you.

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat.

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear.

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip.

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time.

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner.

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused.

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York.

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance.

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.”

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same.

The train’s slowing down.

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer.

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.”

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted.

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open.

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign.

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention.

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home.

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door.

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now. So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together. Is he doing alright? You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people. “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted. “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again. “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger. “I mean, sapphires? Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented.

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked. “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too. She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder. “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it. "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen. But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard. "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really. I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up. "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

#bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes bodyguard au

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buck-nialled · 3 years

Text

3:1 - B. Barnes Imagine

NOTE: this is my first time writing for bucky or sebastian stan in general so feedback is appreciated! please let me know if you like this and if you'd like to see more. THIS DOES CONTAIN SMUTTY UNDERTONES TOWARDS THE END, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: I just added sebastian stan/characters to my taglist form so if you already filled it out before just message me and I'll add you to this one.

three times bucky was clueless with technology and the one time he used it right

Despite spending most of his less-than-average life inside of a giant freezer and aging up to triple digits—if we’re speaking technically, your boyfriend still gained many physical benefits compared to most men his age. For one thing, he is still alive and breathing—a huge accomplishment, if anything, maybe even a record. The physical appearance and athletic ability he still maintained were not a downside either. As far as anybody is concerned, James Buchanan Barnes appears like any other millennial/super-soldier/metal arm-bearing person.

With exception to the fact that the man himself can’t even call you on your phone without needing assistance. That sentence is way less sad when taking into account that he was not alive for the upbringing of touch screens and AI’s, which happened to be waiting everywhere around the complex to aid him and his various, enigmatic asks, such as:

“My phone died. How do I revive it?”

“What did I win a free iPad for?”

“Friday, what does the word ‘bih’ mean?”

Once speaking the last one, he is left unanswered, and Friday is alerting you in the living area moments later.

“Y/N, Mr. Barnes is needing your assistance with a text you sent. He would like a definition of the word ‘bih’ but I cannot find it in my dictionary.” The AI asking for your help in babysitting Bucky on his phone earns a snort from you.

“Thanks, Friday. I’ll go help him.” You heave yourself up from the couch cushion and march towards his bedroom--technically, it is both of yours now. After reaching the entrance, a smile crawls onto your lips at the sight before you. The hefty Miriam-Webster English dictionary splayed open on your lover’s lap as he flips through pages, reciting miscellaneous words his eyes land on in search of the one from your message.

“Big, bin, bio…” Seconds later, he is slamming the book shut and tossing it aside. A loud thud resounds across the room as you watch it land on the hardwood floor. When you glance back up to announce your presence to Bucky, you see his gaze already transfixed on you. A quiet huff comes from him, and his eyes avert from your figure in the doorway, his cheeks becoming tinged with an opaque red. It was no puzzle that the sergeant despised calling for help, even on the minuscule tasks, like how to turn the flash of his camera off or define a slang term unbeknownst to him until your message was delivered to his phone.

“A little birdy told me you needed help.” You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe with a satisfied smirk. You were one of the few and trusted Bucky had learned to open up to in the time that you have come to know him. No matter the issue, or how long it took for you to wear down the stubbornness on his tongue, the plea would sound eventually.

“I just don’t know what this word means.” He grunts. “Is it a typo?”

A line of giggles fall from you at his hopelessly confused expression--eyebrows furrowed, pupils appearing lost in thought at this simple “code word” he couldn’t crack. It made you want to swaddle him in the softest blanket and cuddle him until eternity.

“That’s because it’s not a real word,” you begin through laughs. The scrunch on his face only deepens in its perplexity. “‘Bih’ is short for...it’s short for bitch.” You shrug. His mouth parts in revelation.

“So you...you think I’m a…” he turns his eyes down to the pixelated string of messages…”thick female dog?” You snicker.

“‘Thick bih’ is a compliment, Buck. It just means I like your body a lot.”

“Oh...thank you?” He casts his eyes up at you once more, quirking a brow.

“You’re welcome.”

“Anyways...now that you’re here. I emailed you a photo.” He shoots a wink in your direction. Almost as though you two had traded faces, the confused look transferred over to your wrinkled forehead and tilted head.

“Oh...okay. I’ll check it later.”

You thought nothing of it, and let his statement slip your mind. It was not until later that you decided to scan through your emails with Wanda, who mentioned something mission-related in your inbox that she demanded the two of you look at and study. As you skimmed through to find it, you deleted several junk emails and starred some important ones. When you landed on the electronic mail your boyfriend mentioned earlier and clicked on it, your breath left you at the large photo of his considerably-sized girth.

“Woah! Woah!” Wanda squeals, reaching her hand up to shield her eyes now tainted with the sight of your man’s junk. The early afternoon comes back into your mind, with you against the doorframe, Bucky throwing the dictionary and demanding a translation of your text, and the wink he threw at you.

Of course, the wink. It should have been obvious what the intentions behind his email were at that point, but then again it really shouldn’t have. Because who sends nude photos over email?

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, now wearing red cheeks. You turn to face Wanda who is already out of her seat and facing away from the computer screen, calling back to you in a desperate scurry to her room, “We’ll just talk later!”

“Bucky,” you enter the bedroom with a growl minutes later, a rather great contrast to what you were feeling earlier in the day.

“Hey, doll. Did you ever open my email?” He was seated on the edge of the bed, eyeing something on his phone. He quickly pockets it, allowing you his undivided attention.

“Yeah, and Wanda had something to say about it too.” The comment came out through gritted teeth, but he deciphered every word. His blue eyes enlarged, petrified.

“She was with you? Wh-why’d you let her see it?” He almost squeals in his fit of mortification. Serves him right, you think to yourself. He won’t have to face Wanda and apologize to her later.

“I didn’t know when you said “picture” earlier you meant a nude! Who sends a dick pic over email, Bucky?” Silence follows your outcry until his deep voice pipes up moments later.

“Is that not normal?” He is fiddling with his fingers, clenching his teeth in anticipation of your answer. Which is an expected:

“No.” The man in front of you turns feeble, wearing a humiliated face that turns your insides to mush. The twenty-plus minutes of lashing you were practicing in your head on your walk to the room disappeared as he turns his face down.

“I’m sorry, doll. You know...you know I’m not good with this stuff.” A sigh exits your lips as Bucky is approached by your consoling figure. You take a seat beside him on the bed and a comforting hand takes place on his metal shoulder, with you leaning your head down on the flesh one, closest to you.

“I know, Buck. Just warn a girl next time...with more than a wink.”

“In 1943 that was considered a warning.” The two of you chuckle.

“You know what, better yet...” your hands are flying to his pocket before he can stop them. He barely utters the question before you’re fingertips are tapping across the screen.

“Hey, what’re you--”

“You should really put a lock on this thing.” You chuckle. “A thumbprint, passcode...something.”

“You can do that?” His ludicrous question has you fighting a roll of your eyes. Shaking your head, you wait a few moments for the application to install on the device, and smile triumphantly when the neon yellow square pops up on his home screen. The white ghost in the middle of the icon stares back at him when you place the phone back in his hands.

“There you go.”

“What is this?” He clicks the app to find out for himself, only to be met with the options of logging in or creating an account.

“An app that’s appropriate for sending nudes.” Shivers trail down his spine from your whisper against the shell of his ear. He hums, admiring the screen for a few seconds and taking no further action to make an account.

“You need help, don’t you?”

“It’d be appreciated.”

Since that encounter, your significant other has learned the basics of social platforms and how to properly exploit each one for his needs. Ignoring the one week where he discovered Snapchat filters and send photos of himself in every single one nonstop, the most common one you two have grown to use is the messaging application. It was efficient and easy for him to understand.

Until he, much like when he used Snapchat, discovered something new. And that something new was emojis. After receiving a Snapchat notification from him, which could no doubt be holding either a photo of him with the dancing weiner or his actual one, he shot you a text message from across the compound.

did you see my chatsnap? 🌚

You chose to disregard the blatant, incorrect name and reply:

yes, buck. I get notifications

and WHY THE HELL DID YOU SEND THAT EMOJI??? 😫

what? it’s just a moon 🌚🌚🌚 see?

I can see it’s a moon Bucky. Why did you choose that one?

It’s nighttime. and I’m smiling. It fits.

It’s creepy is what it is

It’s just a moon! 🌚

STOP SENDING IT! 😖😖

fine.

🌝

🤦‍♀️ that’s not what I meant

it’s not my fault you’re scared of the moon, y/n 💅

You chose to change the subject then, no longer holding the desire to stare at the infamous “molester moon” or bucky’s new use of emojis in a sassy manner

please tell me the snap you sent isn’t of the dancing hot dog again

I could tell you that

but I’d be lying if I did.

🙄

🌝 I think this one's my favorite

The third time Bucky struggled with the new-age doodads surrounding him, his rage was at an all-time high. But his reaction is justifiable after discovering it was purely out of fear.

“Do you know what the weather’s gonna be like tomorrow?” He mumbles as the two of you were longing on the bed, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

“Not sure, why?”

“Was thinkin’ we could go to that café. The one with the jukebox.” His head bounces with your body as you let out a few light laughs.

“Because it’s the one piece of technology you can actually use?” He pulls away from you defensively, a frown smeared on his face.

He whines out. “I am not that bad with technology?” You roll your eyes and reach for your phone on the bedside table, clicking the button on the side.

“Hey Siri, what’s the weather look like tomorrow?” You ask aloud, cueing Bucky to furrow his eyebrows.

“Let’s see...the weather tomorrow—“ you were unable to hear the rest of the AI’s sentence due to the sight of Bucky springing out of bed and tugging the set of sharpened knives from his pants.

“Whose there? Who the hell said that?”

“Bucky—“

“I think the complex may have been hacked. Come on, let’s go get Bruce o-or somebody.” He stutters out in a panic, tugging your body behind him in a protective manner. Siri was still activated on your phone, which was now lying on the bed.

“I’m not quite sure I understand—“

“Who the hell are you?!” He demands in a loud voice.

“Bucky, Bucky…” you rest your hands on both his shoulders, urging him to calm down. “It’s just my phone.” After the quick reassurance, he feels his shoulders slump.

“Oh...oh…I knew that.” He puts his knives away, following you as you crawled back into bed. Before fully getting beneath the covers, he sheathes himself of his trousers and top, leaving him only in a pair of boxers.

“Sure you did.” You reply.

“I did.” He insists, before covering both of you with your comforter. Before succumbing to a much-needed rest though, he reaches over and grabs a knife left on the floor, tucking it beneath his pillow.

Just in case.

The following morning, Bucky is no longer paranoid that the complex was hijacked and broken into. Rather, his mind was on a package he ordered online (AND ALL BY HIMSELF, a large victory if you ask him) that, according to the tracker, is one stop away. When you peeked your eyes open to admire him beneath the covers basking in the morning glow, his mischievous smile lit something warm inside you.

“What’s got you so smiley?” You yawn through languid blinks. He only responds with a shrug, aiming to keep the box a secret.

“Big day ahead, why don’t you go start us a shower. I’ll meet you there.” He smirks, blue eyes flashing with something cunning. At this point, you were even more curious.

“Big day? I thought we were just going for coffee?”

“When I’m with you, it’s always a big day.” His raspy voice is sly, metal hand even slyer as it glides up and down your hip.

“Alright Barnes, you win. See you in a minute.” You press your lips to his for a short few seconds and heave your body up from the bed to venture to the connected bathroom. As soon as you crack the door behind you, Bucky leaps from his spot in the sheets and nearly stumbles to the ground, his foot getting tangled in part of the bedding. He wastes no time scurrying to the front door, nearly nude and praying to God nobody would cross paths with him. Seeing the package laying on the doormat in all its glory--Bucky swore he heard angels singing hymns from above. Taking it into his grip and hustling back to his room took little-to-no time. When he slipped inside of the bathroom, he found you removing your hair from the messy knot you threw it up in the night prior, the rest of you bare.

He dropped his boxers and followed you inside the transparent cube, soon to become fogged with the warm steam and your panting breaths if he is lucky enough to pull another round from you.

Spoiler alert, he got lucky. Twice.

Whilst getting dressed, he halts your attempt at wiggling on a pair of leggings.

"I have a surprise for you." He says, waltzing over to the package he haphazardly threw on the bed in his eagerness to join you in the shower. The package lies in your hands seconds later, Bucky delivering you a nod as permission to tear it open. Once you do, your jaw unhinges at the packaging.

The small, pink sex toy stared back at you in all its glory. You could only muster a few blinks at it, wondering how your boyfriend managed to deliver this to himself all on his own yet still strains himself in trying to change his profile picture.

"Wha--how..." you are at a loss of words, to say the least. His piercing blue eyes grow dark at the sight of you holding his surprise.

"It's a big day today, because..." he snatches the packaged toy from you, beginning to open it, "you're gonna wear this out for me today. And I'm gonna control it." Your eyes grow big at his explanation before they dart to the now unpackaged vibrator.

"There's no remote." You point out, and gasp as Bucky holds up his phone for your eyes to see. The application which connects the controls of the vibrator to his phone stares back at you dauntingly.

"Figured I'd give this wifi-powered one a try. But, you know how I am with technology so...it may take awhile for me to get the hang of it," his tone is sultry as he mumbles, and it sends chills through you that directly target your privates. His eyes bore into yours, still holding that look of playfulness from earlier.

"Finish getting ready, doll. I'm ready to take this thing for a test drive."

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #Sebastian stan imagines #Sebastian stan imagine #Sebastian stan fluff #Sebastian stan smut #Sebastian stan angst #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader

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princess-of-disappointment · 3 years

Text

Intruder Alert

Request from @perksofbeingatrex: Hey I wasn’t sure if this was the right place to request? And if it is maybe y/n is a streamer and has an intruder or something idk I like reading angsty/fluffy stuff

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Hi Hi!

Thank you so much for sending in your request! I’ll work on figuring out a system for requests, but in the meantime if you’d like to send anything in via dm like she had, I have no issues with it! I’ll respond as soon as I see it just for some clarification and to let you know that I have indeed seen your request with no problems. :)

Anyways, @perksofbeingatrex I hope you enjoy this! I really enjoyed writing it and funnily enough almost started it in a completely different way (saved that beginning for a future writing).

I will admit my usage of the word “you” feels very repetitive so if anyone out there has any suggestions about helping that for future writings that would be greatly appreciated!

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Intruder Alert

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader (y/n)

Warning: Angst / Fluff

Specific Warning: CREEPY AF, intrusion, stalking?

Summary: During a stream of Among Us, y/n receives some creepy messages in chat which quickly escalate.

Word Count: 1,438

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After being a streamer for a few years, you had become used to some of the peculiar and out there things that people have said in your chat. However, today, a day no where near Halloween or any other related event, you were most definitely not expecting to be receiving some of the absurd and rather creepy messages that you were receiving.

“You still live in (town name), right?”

“Is that a lawnmower I hear? I must be getting closer.”

“I can’t wait to see you in person…”

There were more of these messages and every time a user sending these would get banned, it almost seemed like double that amount would pop up. For awhile you were truly creeped out and then you went through the moments where you thought chat was just trolling you, however one message in particular really got you on edge:

“Blue house, number 332, right? Looks like no one else is home.”

That comment alone made a shiver run down your spine. You weren’t certain if they got the town correct or even the state you were living in, but this was too much of a coincidence to ignore as those specific details matched your home exactly.

Your roommates were out of town visiting family and friends and you had opted to stay at the house to hold down the fort and you had thought that it would be a pleasant experience to have the place to yourself for once.

Not knowing how to respond to that message you completely halt what you were doing both in real life and the game that you were currently playing which happened to be Proximity Among Us with Corpse, Rae, Sykkuno, Toast, Poki, Ludwig, Leslie, Peter, and Karl.

You were imposter that round meaning you were allowed to look at your chat and you had simply been keeping an eye on it due to the strangeness of today’s chat. You didn’t comment on anything that had been said and were actively engaging in a conversation with Corpse as you were following him around the map when that particular message rolled in.

“You could totally kill me right here, y/n, and no one would know. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Laughing, you had responded with, “Corpse, I am not imposter and I certainly don’t-” your words slowly begin to fall flat when you read that message and you stop moving your character as you turn away from your screen to peer at the other monitor to ensure you read that right.

Corpse noticed the change in behavior quite quickly. How could he not when you had been happily laughing beside him and then you suddenly weren’t, “y/n? Is everything alright?”

You had no idea how to respond as you quickly got up to lock the door of the room that you are in, bumping into a light stand while in a hurry, knocking it over. Your mic being unmuted caught this sound and alerted Corpse that something definitely wasn’t right. With your lack of response to his previous questions to you, he decided to attempt to call your cell phone which happened to be sitting on your desk.

As you finished up repositioning the light stand that you had knocked over, your phone began to ring. You answer immediately and mute your mic both in game and for the stream before going over to the only window in the room and closing the curtains quickly, “Corpse? Wh-what’s up?”

“Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I should still be streaming or calling the police… Oh my… I should be calling the police,” you trail off as you mentally make note of anything and everything you have ever heard about being in a situation where there may be an intruder, you just never thought that it could ever happen to you, much less on stream where your thousands upon thousands of viewers could see.

“What’s going on right now?” You were freaking Corpse out, you could hear it in his tone as he asked the question in which you weren’t quite sure of the answer, and with how heightened your senses seemed to be out of the mixture of pure adrenaline and fear, you knew you couldn’t have both of your anxieties going rampant at the moment.

“I-I… I’m not quite sure… I think someone may be outside of my house. The roomies are out of town and I’ve been getting these messages in chat and I thought that maybe they were just trolling but this one… This one…”

You’re cut off by a loud noise sounding from somewhere within the house and you quickly cover your mouth in hopes to make yourself quieter. You move to the far corner of your office with your phone in one hand and grabbing the light stand as you pass it. It wasn’t the best option for defense if necessary, but it was light enough for you to carry and could put some distance between yourself and whoever was to enter the room.

On the other side of the phone line, Corpse had quickly ended his stream and used his home phone to call the police, giving them your address before grabbing his mask and car keys. “y/n, stay on the call with me. I’m on my way over. I’ll be there soon, okay honey?”

“O-okay…” you speak as quietly as you could and thankfully Corpse had been able to hear the short response as he starts his car and turns his phone on speaker phone before setting it in one of the vehicle’s cup holders.

Thankfully you lived in a small town about a half hour away from San Diego and traffic wasn’t as bad as it could be as he was able to arrive at your house just within that 30 minute time range. When he arrived the police had already arrived and you were standing outside with them discussing what had happened.

Those 30 minutes waiting for Corpse’s arrival had been terrifying. You refused to turn off your stream in case it were to capture something, but you worried about ruining the game experience for your friends. These conflicting thoughts ran around your mind, yet you were frozen in the corner of your room as you heard more noises throughout your home and over time they slowly got closer and closer to your locked door. They were right outside of your door when the police arrived and entered the building. Thankfully, the person outside your door hadn’t planned on this and was handcuffed to be taken in for questioning. Even so, you were still shaky and anxious about the whole experience. On your way out of your house to chat with the police, you gave your camera a brief wave before leaving the game and the stream - you would have to apologize to your friends later for leaving without an explanation but for now, it was too fresh to discuss online.

You answered all the questions brought your way to the best of your ability and although you knew you were safe now, you were still uneasy and knew that only one person could make it all better… And then he arrived. Once you had caught his eye, tears began to fill your eyes. Throughout this whole experience, you had managed to keep the tears at bay, but once you saw him, your rock, your person, arrive they just seemed to want to be let free. You quickly excuse yourself from the questioning and rush over to Corpse.

As though he could read your mind, he opens up his arms to embrace you once you were within his reach. Your hands lace under his arms as you gently clutch at the back of his hoodie while holding him while his arms wrap around your figure and his head leans to rest against yours.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” He mutters softly before pecking the side of your head.

“No no no… You got here at the perfect time… The police got him and they were finishing up some questions and now they’re leaving and…” You pull away slightly to look at him mid-rant, “Can you just… Can you stay here with me? Like just for the night or whenever…”

He smiles softly before leaving a kiss on your forehead and gently nuzzling the side of your head, “I don’t plan on going anywhere right now princess.”

A small smile appears on your face at his words, “Really? Can you stay until my roomies get back home?”

“Of course I will.”

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x reader #corpse x you #corpse husband fanfic #request #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #fluff

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Danger First

Chapter 2

Heya @pocketramblr. I have no self-control.

Izuku expected his anxiety to subside, one way or another, once the exam was over.

As always, the universe set out to prove him wrong.

Home was more or less okay. But, for some reason, minor household repair issues started to bother him so much he spent the rest of weekend working on them

Then there was school, which was even more hellish than usual, despite being exactly the same as it had been since the sludge incident. Izuku was way too aware of how much of a threat everyone there was to him, specifically. Especially the teachers.

His hypervigilante state did keep him from getting poked (smacked) quite so much by the teachers, or cornered by 'fellow' students quite as much as usual, but it also led him to hide in the library storage room. He'd never be able to look at the librarian the same way again. Not knowing she kept multiple copies of books by anti-quirkless hate groups on hand.

And all through the week, he got nothing but silence from All Might.

But the end of the week came, and with it a letter from UA, which told him-

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, FIRST PLACE?"

"I don't know, Nana, Banjo makes a good point."

"Don't take his side just because he was your predecessor. You all know a One for All holder would never resort to such devious- Yoichi, why are you making that face?"

"In an unjust world, bribery can be a tool for justice. I'm sure Eighth didn't have to, though."

"That's it, I'm not talking to any of you anymore."

"Anyway," said All Might, wiping blood from his mouth and glancing nervously at the other beachgoers. "Congratulations, young Midoriya."

Izuku felt his lip wobble. "You're not mad that I couldn't use One for All?"

"Not at all! Actually, in some ways this might be better. We'll have some time to experiment privately. And if you're in school when it finally turns on... well, we'll just say you're a late bloomer, alright?"

"Okay," sniffed Izuku, rubbing his eyes. "I just... I couldn't use it. What if-"

"Hey, hey, it's alright, my boy. No need to cry. You passed the entrance exam without using a quirk at all! You should be proud. Even with a quirk, it's an incredible accomplishment. Also, just so you know, I had nothing to do with the selection process. Just in case you were worried about favoritism."

Izuku sniffed and nodded.

"What a strangely specific denial."

"Uh, Banjo, usually I'd be reveling in the chaos, but I think Nana is seriously considering ghost murder right now. Maybe you shouldn't insult her kid anymore?"

"You and Hikage would protect me, right?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd sell you to Satan for one corn chip."

"So would I; it's been way too long since I've eaten. As long as it is Satan and not All for One, you've got my blessing."

"You certainly proved this old man wrong."

"You aren't old," protested Izuku.

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that," said All Might. "Here, sit down with me," he said, settling on the sand.

Izuku hurried to follow suit, and for a while, they both just watched the ocean. It was nice, today.

"I owe you an apology, young Midoriya."

"H-huh?"

"For what I said on that roof," said All Might, "and for what I... implied later."

"You already apologized for the roof, though?" said Izuku, confused. "I mean, that day..."

"That's what I'm talking about," said All Might. "I shouldn't have- The way I apologized, when I offered you One for All... It was like saying that you couldn't do it without a quirk, that you needed a quirk to 'fix' yourself and... well, obviously I was wrong. Quirk or not, you're going to be an amazing hero."

"Oh," said Banjo, "I can already tell this is going to be a problem once he finds out about Danger Sense. Gonna blow a hole right through his confidence."

"Maybe he won't find out?" suggested Nana, who'd wrestled her murderous impulses into submission. Temporarily. "Danger Sense is pretty low key."

"I feel like I should be offended..." said Hikage. "But if I got offended, that would be offensive to people who don't have quirks..."

"I don't know," said En. "If someone insulted your legs by saying they were so skinny it was like they weren't even there, would you being offended be offensive to people who don't have legs? Or would the original statement be the offensive one?"

"Somehow, I feel more offended after that."

"Oh," said Izuku. He felt himself crying again. "Are you, um. You're not going to- Are you- Do you want it back?" he whispered. "One for All?"

"No, no, of course not. You... There's no one I'd rather have it. I'm just... even if you didn't, you could be a hero. But I'm hoping... I'm hoping you'll keep it."

Izuku swallowed and nodded. All Might awkwardly raised his arm.

"Do you mind if I...?"

"Sure?" said Izuku, not entirely sure what he was asking.

All Might put his arm around Izuku and gave him a sort of sideways hug. Izuku leaned into it. It was the safest he'd felt since the entrance exam.

Because, surprise, surprise, that anxiety hadn't gone away.

"What did you say?"

"Oh! Uh... it isn't important, it's nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing," said All Might, concerned.

"I, well, I, ever since the entrance exam... maybe even a little bit before? I've been really... jumpy? About everything. I think it's just because I'm a wreck, but..."

"Huh. Well, you know, that could be a facet of One for All."

"R-really?"

"After I got One for All, it seemed like it was easier for me to tell when people were in danger and needed help," said All Might. "S- A friend who knew about One for All used to joke it was my original quirk. But it was subtle and intermittent, not constant."

"Huh," said Izuku. "So... it might have been One for All all along? Trying to get me to help people?" He picked at his lower lip. "Maybe... I noticed a bunch of stuff I usually don't... I'm not sure I would have seen all the people in trouble during the exam."

"So much for not noticing-"

"His confidence... let him have it for at least a little while..."

"He seems to be taking it alright," said Yoichi, hopefully.

"I'm sure you would have helped them if you did notice, regardless," said All Might, "and that's what was really being measured, so my earlier point still stands."

Izuku nodded. "It would be really strange for a quirk to have two completely different applications like that."

"Yes, but One for All is a rather strange quirk, and I've seen odder split quirks." He fell silent for a moment. "I can't think of a way to test for it, though. Speaking of which, we should find some time to try and work on One for All before the school year starts. How do you feel about coming to UA after school?"

"Th-thank you for helping us with this, Recovery Girl!"

"It's no trouble, dear," said Recovery Girl. "I'd be here at this time, anyway. You wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork I have to go through. Just try not to break too many bones."

Izuku nodded vigorously, still somewhat in awe of being in the presence of not one but two incredible pro heroes. And at UA.

It was like living in a dream.

Except for the highly suspicious mostly-hidden wall panels and the very intense feeling of being watched through camera by an incredibly threatening being. It was fine.

"Alright, young Midoriya! Are you ready?"

"Y-yeah!"

"Then come at me, you zygote!"

Nana stared at her (former) student in despair. "Toshi... why... out of all the people..."

"So, you admit he can make bad decisions-"

"Bad and immoral are two different things."

"I think calling people zygotes is pretty immoral, actually..."

Silently, Nana agreed.

Izuku blinked at All Might- not because of the zygote thing!

... Okay, partially because of the zygote thing.

But mostly because he was still in his skinny, prone-to-coughing-up-blood form.

"Are you sure?" Izuku asked. "What if I..." he trailed off, blushing. What he was about to say sounded so stupid, and more than a little conceited, but...

"Hey, even like this, I'm much tougher than I look, young Midori- Ahem, I mean, zygote!"

"Toshinori, don't you think role-playing as Gran Torino is a little much?" asked Recovery Girl.

"Ah, do you think so?"

Recovery Girl shot All Might a truly terrifying look, but Izuku's mind was on something completely different.

"Is- is Toshinori your name?" he asked, awed.

Blood drained out of All Might's face, making him look more skeletal than usual. Should Izuku not have asked? Was it supposed to be secret? Oh no...

"Please tell me you haven't been training this boy for most of a year without him even knowing your name."

"Oops?" said All Might, faintly.

"He did do that, didn't he?" asked Yoichi, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline. "Nana, your boy is a disaster."

"All of us were disasters. We're still disasters."

"I'm not."

"Hikage, you spent most of your adult life living in the woods, completely isolated from humanity."

"I know, it was great."

"Unbelievable."

"Back to what we were talking about before," said Mr. Yagi (Mr. Yagi! Izuku knew All Might's name! And had permission to use it!) after Recovery Girl was done scolding him. "Focus on actually hitting me before worrying about accidentally hurting me. Today, I just want to get a baseline. Next time, we can work on basic punches and throws."

"So, do I just-?"

"Yep, just come right at me!"

The next hour consisted mainly of Izuku being thrown bodily into various padded surfaces. Despits this, according to Mr. Yagi, he was much better at dodging than expected. As a bonus, although he certainly felt sore and bruised, he didn't break any bones.

He also didn't manage to activate One for All. Not even a little bit.

Nor did he on any of the other days leading up to his first day as a student at UA.

Aizawa Shouta, down two nights of sleep and dreading the new batch of bright eyed hero hopefuls he'd be teaching- and crushing the dreams of- next week, glared blearily at a computer screen. Currently, it displayed a student's name, a quirk name, and the single least helpful quirk description he'd ever seen. Which was saying something, because he'd seen Hizashi's original quirk description.

Midoriya Izuku

Quirk: undetermined

Description: None.

I am either too tired or too sober to deal with this, decided Shouta. However, sleep simply wasn't on the table, and getting drunk was illogical. In that case, simply not dealing with it was the only option.

Nevertheless, he picked up his phone and called Nezu.

"Good evening, Aizawa!" said the internally chipper maybe-rodent. "Or should I say good morning?"

"Midoriya Izuku."

"Ah, you're browsing your class list, I see. Any thoughts about their potential?"

"Illogical." It would be, to make a call about a student's potential without meeting them first.

"Quite so!"

"Midoriya. Quirk," grunted Shouta, reminding him why he was calling.

"Ah, yes, he is a strange case. He's listed as quirkless in the registry."

That woke Shouta up, just a little. He'd seen a handful of documents for the quirkless over the years. If Midoriya was quirkless, his file should read N/A, not undetermined.

"What?"

"I have reason to believe that he might have been diagnosed in error," said Nezu. "I am still investigating. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on him. Assuming, of course, that he isn't expelled!"

Shouta grunted and hung up. He minimized the window on his computer and pawed through his files until he found the entrance exam video for Midoriya.

A kid who passed the UA hero course practical entrance exam either entirely quirkless or with a subtle, stubborn, or invisible quirk on rescue points alone. A kid who seemed to run straight for danger on purpose (mostly on purpose, Shouta amended after seeing him collide with the invisible girl, coincidentally pushing her out of the way of some sort of water pressure quirk. There was just no way he could have known she was there). A kid who had almost certainly faced brutal quirk harassment since the time he was four and most likely possessed the self-confidence and trauma to match.

"Least he's good at dodging..." muttered Shouta. He rubbed at one grainy-feeling eye and pulled his sleeping bag closer around his shoulders. Kid wasn't all that bad at falling, either. Some light martial arts instruction, maybe?

He paused the video and reopened Midoriya's file, flipping to school and admission records and exam results. He usually didn't look closely at this part of the file, it was enough for him that the students passed, but, exceptions...

Speaking of exceptions, Midoriya's file was a mass of contradictions. Unusually high written test score that didn't correspond with middle school grades. Dozens of citations and black marks on his disciplinary record that should have kept him from even being invited to take the exam, but a letter of recommendation from All Might.

He frowned at the last one. There was no way...

He shook his head, and clicked on the link at the bottom of the file. It brought him to a herotube video about a year old. A hostage situation with a vaguely familiar middle schooler and slime-like villain. Also, a bunch of heroes, but none of them seemed to be addressing the suffocating child. Shouta felt his lips curl. Even if this was in the past...

Then Midoriya Izuku ran into the frame and tried to pull the other boy free, just seconds before All Might arrived and punched the villain so hard it started to rain. Then the video ended.

Alright, then.

Shouta's admittedly currently-less-than-razor-sharp mind presented him with two possibilities. One, Midoriya was All Might's secret child and All Might had bribed Nezu into letting him take the exams despite his less-than-stellar records. Two, this child had, with bloody fingernails, managed to claw a single spark of luck out of an otherwise bleak existence by impressing All Might enough that he got Nezu to ignore the otherwise damning records.

If the first, well, he had still passed the practical without use of any obvious quirk. He probably had some potential.

If the second... Shouta had been a hero long enough to recognize the circumstances that drove people to desperate, and sometimes unforgivable, acts. Dangling a single hope in front of someone only to snatch it away at the last minute...

Forget the maybe-quirk. This was the real conundrum of Midoriya Izuku.

The rat knew he wouldn't expel Midoriya with these stakes. It would be the height of irrationality.

(Even if he did turn out to be All Might's kid.)

What a pain.

He flipped through a few more profiles, quickly reviewing 1-B as well, before hitting redial on his phone.

"Calling again so soon?" asked Nezu with a squeaky chuckle.

"I want Monoma." He paused. "In my class," he elaborated.

"Oh? Whatever for?"

"If I'm going to have to figure out Midoriya's mystery quirk, I want to make it as easy for myself as possible."

There was silence on the other end of the like, and Shouta checked to see whether or not he'd hung up accidentally. He hadn't.

"I must say," said Nezu, finally, "I had not considered that solution. Depending on the mechanics of Monoma's quirk... I cannot think of any reason to deny your request."

That was a strange way of phrasing it.

"We'll exchange him with Bakugo, in that case."

"Not that I'm complaining," said Shouta, "but why him? Why not..." He racked his memory. "Mineta. He's got one of those body part quirks Kan likes."

Nezu chuckled again. "Normally, I would pick Mineta, but, by my calculations, a classroom that contained both Monoma and Bakugo would be demolished within thirty minutes of their arrival."

Shouta groaned. Why did they even let people like that in?

No, wait, he had an answer to that, actually.

"Forget a mouse, a dog, or a bear," said Shouta. "You're a sadist."

"Some certainly think so! But one thing's for sure! I'm the principal!"

The door to class 1-A sure was big... and intimidating... and radiating a faint sense of malaise. But, then, Izuku's middle school classroom had done far worse, so...

He opened the door. No Kacchan. Thank goodness. He must be in the class B, then, because there was no way he'd let Izuku beat him to school.

The strict boy from the entrance exam was there, though, and, oh, dear, he'd noticed Izuku and was coming right for him.

(Oh, gosh, and the invisible girl was here, too. He felt himself blushing furiously.)

Still better than Kacchan.

"Hello!" he said, rather loudly. "I'm from Somei Private Academy! My name is Iida Tenya!"

"Oh, uh, I- I'm from Aldera Middle School..." said Izuku. Was stating the name of your middle school a normal thing? He hadn't read about this in any manga... "I'm Midoriya Izuku."

"Pleased to meet you!" He moved his arm in a rather robotic fashion, taking a deep breath.

Oh, no, was he about to yell at Izuku again?

"Danger Sense isn't even going off right now, Izuku," said Yoichi, despairingly. "Why are you still so nervous?"

"Maybe we never really gave him Danger Sense after all, and it was his natural anxiety the whole time."

"Please stop denigrating my quirk."

"Midoriya... you... you perceived the true nature of the practical exam. Meanwhile, I was blind! I misjudged you! I hate to admit it, but you were the superior candidate."

Oh, that was nice, but... "I didn't perceive anything, though. I had no idea rescue points were a thing. I was mostly just trying not to die."

"Ah! That curly hair! It's Midoriya!"

"Oh! Um, Uraraka?" Please, please, let him have remembered her name right.

"Yeah!" said Uraraka, smiling brightly.

Augh! Too cute!

"I'm so glad you're in my class! I was so worried I wouldn't know anyone here."

"Y-yeah. T-this is Iida, by the way," said Izuku, trying to get attention off of himself.

"Nice to meet you, Iida."

"It's nice to meet you as well, Uraraka!"

"Yeah! So, we've got the entrance ceremony and guidance sessions today, right? I wonder who our teacher will be- They're all supposed to be pro heroes, right?"

"Um," started Izuku, "that-"

"If you're here to socialize, then get out."

"That's a teacher, huh," said Yoichi.

"Why are you saying that like you've never seen one before?" asked Banjo.

"I've seen teachers before," said Yoichi. "I've seen all of your teachers. The ones you've had while you had One for All."

"Okay, now you're saying that like you've never had teachers."

"Yeah, that is kind of strange, Yoichi," said Nana.

"I had professors," said Yoichi.

"Still weird."

"I went to college. And med school."

"Did you graduate?" asked En, interested.

"No."

"Why not?"

"My brother kidnapped me, kept me in a vault for a while, and then I died."

"I didn't know what I expected," said En, shaking his head.

"Wait, weren't there several years between the vault and the whole dying thing."

"Yeah, but I'm ignoring them."

"Because?" Banjo hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Second and Third.

"Yep," said Yoichi.

"Todoroki. You were the highest scorer on the Recommendation Exam. See how far you can throw this ball with your quirk. Stay in the circle. Anything else goes."

A boy with white and red hair stepped forward, scowling faintly. He took the ball and stared at it.

"Time is valuable, Todoroki."

And then there was a glacier.

Izuku felt his jaw drop. How was he supposed to compete with that?

"My name is Monoma," said a blonde boy, offering his hand.

Izuku stared at it a moment before remembering handshakes were a thing.

"Midoriya," he said.

Monoma then offered his hand to Uraraka and Iida as well. "I look forward to experiencing UA's superior brand of education with you," he said.

Izuku laughed nervously. "You're confident," he said, glancing at the track where two others students were doing sprints. It would be their turn soon.

"But of course!" Monoma struck a sort of pose, fingers splayed out on his chest. "I welcome this sort of challenge, this opportunity to prove myself! It just goes to show, UA only accepts the best of the best!"

Monoma was called away to the starting line a moment later. "Two good, one dud," he mumbled under his breath.

What did that mean?

Then Monoma was at the starting line, and he was using Iida's quirk. Did he have a copy quirk? That was so cool!

... Is that what he meant by good and dud? Did he... did he see that Izuku didn't have a quirk? Oh, no... What if he told everyone? Even if people were being nice to him now...

"What's wrong?" asked Uraraka.

"U-um," said Izuku. "Nothing?"

"Oh, gosh," said Yoichi, crying. "I just want to wrap him up in a warm blanket. You deserve friends."

"Yeah, kid, it'll be okay," said Banjo. "Bakugo's just a freak. And so was your whole school. Place gave me MLA flashbacks."

"Sure glad they aren't around anymore," agreed En.

All in all... Izuku didn't do terribly. Especially given that he didn't actually have a quirk, and this was a quirk assessment. At least, he didn't think he did. At least, he hadn't tripped or hurt himself.

It had, in fact, been a rather good day. No Kacchan. No bullies. The teacher had clear standards and requirements, and he stated them up front.

He had been getting... bad vibes... from the short, purple-haired kid, and he'd noticed other people frowning at him, especially the girls. But he hadn't been able to put his finger on why, even though he had been watching him carefully during his turns.

Other than that...

UA really was the best.

"By the way, no one's getting expelled. It was a logical ruse."

Monoma raised his hand.

"What is it?"

"I must object!" said Monoma.

"You... want someone to be expelled?"

"In fact, I insist! To allow this to continue would blemish the reputation of the school."

"Well said, Monoma!" exclaimed Iida. "Living up to the reputation of UA and all the alumni who have come before us is a duty of us students! But what blemish are you talking about? Surely, as Mr. Aizawa said, we all went plus ultra!"

"Maybe so, but my concern has more to do with moral standards!"

"If you kids keep going like this, I'm just going to go to sleep. You're giving me a headache."

Izuku caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and a wave of unease went through him. He turned to see-

"Hey! What are you doing?" he demanded, shocked and more than a little horrified.

Once again, he was mortally embarrassed on behalf of the invisible girl.

"I wasn't doing anything!" said the small purple boy.

"You were looking up her skirt!"

"It isn't like there's anything to see!"

The invisible girl gasped and quickly moved away. "Gross!" she said. "That's terrible!"

"See? See?" said Monoma, wildly. "This is what I'm talking about!"

"Next time," said Aizawa, "get to the point faster. Time is valuable. Mineta."

"What?"

"You're expelled."

"What? You can't do that!"

"Go complain to Nezu."

UA really was the best.

"Midoriya."

Okay, never mind. He was doomed. Completely doomed.

"Monoma. I want to talk to you after class. The rest of you are dismissed."

Midoriya stood nervously as Uraraka and Iida bid him goodbye. Was this it? Was Aizawa going to expel him after all? At least it wasn't in front of absolutely everyone... But what was Monoma doing here?

Speaking of which, Monoma looked nervous, too... Was he okay? Surely, Aizawa wasn't going to expel him, too.

"Is this about me using other people's quirks?" demanded Monoma. "Because you said anything goes! I wasn't cheating. You can't expel me!"

Oh. There was some trauma there. Izuku could tell. Did people make fun of him for his quirk?

"I'm not going to expel you," said Aizawa, looking up at them from where he laid in his sleeping bag in the grass. He almost looked like he was praying for patience. "I need to ask you some questions about your quirk. For future reference and to better serve your needs as a student. I know how tricky meta quirks can be."

"Oh," said Monoma, slightly deflating. Then he sent a curious glance at Midoriya. "Is he-?"

"His matter is slightly more sensitive. If you would like me to send him away while we talk, I can do that."

"No, no, it's fine." Monoma sniffed, his eyes suspiciously wet. "What's the question?"

"You copy quirks through DNA contact. Do you decide when to activate passive quirks you copy, or can you choose?"

"I can choose, as long as it's within my time limit."

"When you first make contact, can you tell what quirk a person has?"

Monoma shook his head. "No, sir, I have to activate it to do that, so I can get duds- oh, that is to say, quirks I can't use because I don't have the proper activation conditions, like Midoriya's. He's got some kind of stockpile. I can get duds without realizing it. But I can tell whether or not someone has a quirk."

"Were you able to test all your classmates' quirks today?"

"Not everyone, yet," said Monoma. "I usually try to avoid more extreme mutation quirks outside of controlled conditions."

Aizawa's head bobbed up and down minutely. "Great. That should be enough for now. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir! I look forward to seeing your superior lesson plans tomorrow!" He paused. "Midoriya."

"H-have a good day, Monoma."

Monoma had felt One for All! What a relief. Izuku had been half worried he'd lost it somehow.

But why did Aizawa want him?

"Um, sir?" he asked. Sort of asked. 'Sir' alone wasn't a question, even if it was said in an inquisitive tone.

Aizawa's eyes turned red, and his hair started floating. Izuku felt... Huh. Calmer, somehow? He was no longer vaguely aware of how the light post over there could fall on him, or any of the other many minor dangers surround him and oh, gosh, he was no longer aware of the dangers! How was he supposed to stay safe like this, when he felt like he'd been blindfolded?

Aizawa blinked. Everything came back.

"Wow," said Izuku. "That was so cool! Was that your quirk? Is it an emotional quirk? It made me feel calmer at first, but then I was, I don't know, too calm, and it made me anxious, but then-"

"Problem child," said Aizawa, and Izuku froze at the reprimand. "What I just did was erase your quirk."

Erase?

His quirk?

"Oh my gosh! You're Eraserhead! I'm a huge fan!"

Aizawa closed his eyes. Was he counting? No? Did he fall asleep?

"You do know you're listed as quirkless, right?"

"Yes?"

"But you just had a reaction to my quirk that a quirkless person definitely should not have."

"O-oh?"

"Combined with Monoma's ability to sense your quirk, I'd say you are not, in fact, quirkless."

"But I have the toe joint?" Izuku wasn't sure why he'd said that. He shouldn't be arguing against this, because, as Aizawa had said, he did have a quirk. It just wasn't exactly his.

"Yeah, that's an old wives' tale."

"Really?"

"As real as my quirk counselor license. Whoever diagnosed you was a quack."

"O-oh."

"My initial impression from your entrance exam video is that you might have a sensory quirk of some kind. On the other hand, we should take Monoma's assessment into account, and consider stockpiles. Either way, I would like to schedule some time to test things out with you."

"You- You'd do that? For me? I mean, I don't want to be a bother-"

"This is literally my job."

"It... yeah, I guess so." His previous teachers would have considered it a bother. Except Mr. Yagi, but Mr. Yagi wasn't really a teacher. He was more of a... a mentor.

(Or a dad.)

(Oh, no, he did not just think that. Bad. Bad brain. Bad brain that read too much All Might RPF as a pre-teen.)

"Besides, even if your quirk doesn't have many applications in hero work, it will be useful for you to know what it is and how it affects you." Aizawa yawned. "Also, don't tell your class that I'm Eraserhead."

"O-okay," said Izuku. "Of course, sir, but... why?"

"I have two full time jobs. I get my entertainment where I can. You can go now. We'll schedule tomorrow."

Izuku nodded, and Aizawa just... zipped his sleeping bag the rest of the way closed and rolled over.

Was... was he just going to go to sleep here? In the middle of the field.

"Um? Mr. Aizawa?"

A grunt came from the sleeping bag.

"This is... isn't this kind of a dangerous place to sleep?"

"Go home, problem child."

"... okay."

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #fanfic #danger first au #danger first

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theolsentimes · 3 years

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Mary-Kate Olsen's Singular Style

She came to fame as a twin, but the actress's cultish look is entirely her own. Here, with Lauren Hutton, she pays homage to another fashion inspiration, Grey Gardens. Written by Laura Brown, with photography by Peter Lindbergh (Harper's Bazaar, 2007)

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Mary-Kate Olsen may be the only young actress who breezes into her local Starbucks wearing towering, fashion-fierce Balenciaga boots, who arrives at her latest premiere (in Mary-Kate's case, for the new season of Showtime's Weeds, in which she plays a devout Christian with a pot fetish) sporting an oversize cross, and whose favorite band is Led Zeppelin. She may, in fact, be the only young actress who knows who Led Zeppelin is. MK, as she is known to her friends and family, is also a punctual and professional sort. She arrives for a poolside tea in Los Angeles 10 minutes early, ordering a hot chocolate while explaining her fetish for all things sweet — "I'm a candy girl, like Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish" — and objecting when the waiter tries to take the sugar bowl away. She is wearing a nautical striped T-shirt (her mom's, from the '70s), tucked into two black Wolford slips rolled down and turned into a tight, Robert-Palmer-video-style mini, and multicolored sparkly Christian Louboutin stilettos. She's just had her hair colored, returning to a sunnier shade after some experiments with both peroxide ("I woke up one morning and was like, I want white-trash hair today") and the dark side (an auburn-haired near-Goth moment last year). She's carrying a large black fringed leather Prada tote — she doesn't do small bags — and her fingers are covered with rings, most notably two vintage coiled gold snakes stacked on top of each other. ("They remind me of twins, sort of double headed.") Altogether, the effect is less her famed "bag-lady chic" than an edgy, body-conscious, and, yes, sexy silhouette. If she weren't 21, she could be 40. And French.

Few people need reminding that Mary-Kate — with her twin sister, Ashley — literally crawled into celebrity aged nine months (courtesy of Full House) and has not been out of the spotlight ever since. She has been a celebrity for more than two decades. Perhaps that's one reason she seems as if she came out of the womb worldly, the textbook old soul. "Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I get that a lot." With all of that attention and all of the money (her and Ashley's company, Dualstar, has famously become a "billion-dollar business"), Mary-Kate could easily have ended up the type who wears pink terry cloth and carries a variety of small dogs. "Could you imagine?" she says with the politest version of a snort. "No way." She credits her exceptionally close-knit family (she has five siblings) and, interestingly, early stardom with helping her keep her perspective. "I think it helped that I started in front of the camera, so it didn't come as a shock. If I was a teenager and was thrown into the spotlight, I don't know how I would react, to be honest." Though the tabloids are all too keen to brand her a skinny, nervous deer in the headlights, in person Mary-Kate is easy in her skin, confident and surprisingly tactile, curling up in her seat and touching you on the arm to make a point. She laments the generic style of most actresses and cites only men as style inspirations: "Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp. Men, they just dress the way they want, and they don't think about Who Wore It Best." She doesn't much care for Who Wore It Best, noting she avoids those pages by "wearing vintage so often. I just dress the way I feel instead of looking for what's the new handbag." If Mary-Kate and Ashley have their way, more people will be wearing clothes and carrying bags the way they do. They have just shown the fifth collection of their ready-to-wear line, the Row, and recently launched a contemporary label, Elizabeth and James, named after a sister and a brother. The Row's holiday collection (in stores next month) is a slick mix of skinny leather pants, razor-cut blazers, butter-soft, slouchy tees, and a destined-to-be-cultish pullover fur. Lauren Hutton, who stars in the Row's Spring '08 look book, says, "The clothes are extraordinary. A man I was with just loved them. The pieces are just so genius, soft like a baby's skin. Simple minimalist stuff, but really spectacular." Mary-Kate, designer, faces an interesting challenge. She has to marry Dualstar — which has made its fortune selling tween-tastic DVDs and pastel Mary-Kate and Ashley T-shirts at Wal-Mart — with her increasingly edgy and subversive taste. Dualstar executives, some of whom have worked with her since she was a child, often nag her, mom-style, about pulling her hair back "or wearing a color," she says with a laugh. "I had this event recently, and I was like, They're going to be so happy that I'm wearing ... purple. I actually have to think about those things, though, you know, so I don't get trashed." Get trashed sometimes she does. Hutton says, "Once in a while, she'll wear something and I'll think, Oh, baby doll, take another look. But to have the bravery, to take the chance to do that, is pretty wonderful. She is making her own way, which is hardly ever done in Hollywood." Of Mary-Kate's penchant for gigantic Balenciaga heels, Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, says, laughing, "I'd be like, 'It's Tuesday. Do you really want to be wearing those shoes?' But she pulls it off." Designer Giambattista Valli, a friend, says, "She likes to take risks, but because she has such strong personal style, she always manages to make it work. Even if she had nothing on, she'd have style." And MK chic is spreading. "Sometimes I'll look at people or at a magazine and I'll do a double take because I'm like, Oh, my God, that's my outfit, but that's not me," Mary-Kate says. Playing with her wire-rimmed aviators, she jokes wryly that she should have bought shares in Ray-Ban. (She and Chloë Sevigny pretty much brought back white '80s Wayfarers.) She tends to fall in love with a look, then wear it until she's done. "If I put together a good outfit, I'll wear it for three days and then switch it up with a blazer," she says. "I still love my vintage jeans, my tights, and my pants, though." She didn't start wearing heels, in fact, until a couple of years ago: "I kept watching Ashley walk around in them so gracefully, and I'm such a klutz. But I ended up loving heels, and I don't usually take them off." She wears precisely one pair of flat shoes: Chanel's knee-high patent-leather gladiator sandals. This season, it's Balenciaga's fall collection — all of it — that has Mary-Kate obsessed. She is close to designer Nicolas Ghesquière and says, "He is so talented, but he's the nicest, most down-to-earth guy, and that makes everything he does more brilliant. I bought everything, but I haven't got anything yet," she says like a girl impatiently waiting for Christmas. Will she wear the new pieces with her infamous clodhopper boots? "Uh-huh. Wore them the other day, actually." Mary-Kate always goes with her gut, even if some people (back to those tabloids) don't quite get it. "The tabloids say things about me? What do they say?" she asks archly. "People are going to write what they want, and everyone's going to have their own idea of who I am. But I'm not trying to be friends with the people who are reading them, really." After a rough couple of years filled with near-forensic scrutiny of her weight, she'll have you know that she does eat. "This is not going to sound good," she laughs, "but I like making crispy tofu sticks with peanut sauce. I love my sashimi and my salmon and my vegetables." She observes, "Stress plays a big role in how I look day-to-day. I've always been very active — Pilates, yoga. I grew up horseback riding every day for hours. I love dancing. I usually last longer than anyone on the dance floor." A common image of Mary-Kate has her emerging from a coffee joint with an oversize cup. "I always get creamed for having my Starbucks cup," she says, sighing. "But the only time people get photos of me is when I'm getting coffee, when I can't sneak away from the camera." She also resents the pictorial implication that she and Ashley are dilettantes. "They take photos of us going into our offices, and it's 'Mary-Kate and Ashley shopping again.' But I'm going to work for eight hours, and we're working so hard. ..." She trails off. "It just shows how people want to think of you." Mary-Kate is not above celeb watching herself, however. Newly obsessed with Victoria Beckham, she notes she avidly watched Beckham's Coming to America documentary: "She's running around in a bikini and heels, and I'm like, Oh, my God! I do that, too!" How positively Grey Gardens. "I run around my house naked with heels all the time. It's so funny. All my friends will tell you I love running around in kimonos and jewelry or naked with jewelry." More people will be watching Mary-Kate soon, thanks to her role in the Emmy-nominated Weeds. "I am a very good Christian girl," she says with a wink. "She has her moral beliefs — and she happens to smoke pot." Of her newest cast member, Kohan adds, "Mary-Kate is complicated. She's a big celebrity, a huge media icon, but you have to separate the media images from someone who has the same issues, the same desires, as anyone else." Of course, Mary-Kate's image, in all its incarnations — from high fashion to small screen — is her strongest asset. And she has yet to settle on one. "I feel like I've lived 10 different lives already and I'm only 21," she says, almost as a reminder to herself. "But I also feel like I'm entering a new chapter." One thing on which she is clear, though: She doesn't need to be looked at all the time. What would she do for a day if she were invisible? "I would probably go to a restaurant with my friends, who would be able to see me, of course," she adds pragmatically, "and I would sit outside and enjoy a nice lunch with them. Then I would walk down the street." The old soul takes a sip of her little-girl-sweet hot chocolate. "That's what I would do."

#Mary Kate Olsen #mary kate and ashley #Ashley Olsen #harper's bazaar #magazines #articles #photoshoot

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heliads · 3 years

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Goodbye in C Minor

Luke Patterson was dating this incredible girl, Y/N, until he died along with Alex and Reggie. Now that he’s been stuck in the present day, he doesn’t know how to move on from the girl he left behind in the 90s.

masterlist

A girl leans against an open doorway. She takes in the band playing around her, the black and white Sunset Curve banners streaked with color. Her eyes flash over all members of the band in turn, but they tend to linger on the lead singer, a boy with a shock of brown hair and enough passion for an entire band of his own.

In fact, he doesn’t even notice that the girl has arrived until the song ends and he looks up, finally snapped out of his reverie. Instantly, a smile shoots across his face and he jogs over to her, unslinging his guitar strap from around his shoulders and setting the instrument down on a nearby stand. He picks her up and twirls her around in the air. The girl laughs, and her eyes meet his again once her feet touch back down on the ground.

One of the boys from the band shouts something to her from across the studio, his voice hopeful. “Did you bring us lunch?” The girl turns to face them, attention finally diverted from her boyfriend. She holds up a plastic bag full of boxed containers. “I did! Takeout, hope you don’t mind. And yes, Bobby, some are vegetarian.” A light-haired boy, Alex, does a silent fist pump. “You’re the best, Y/N. Honestly.”

Y/N hands the bag of food over to the hungry bandmates, and all except one hurriedly dig in. Luke stays, interlacing his fingers with Y/N’s. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Y/N waves his concern away. “I absolutely did. You’ve gotten me into the Orpheum for your upcoming show, the least I can do is make sure you’re all properly fed. If I can’t help with music, I can at least help with this.”

Luke grins. “Trust me, I think the food is the best thing ever. By the way, Reggie wants me to tell you that we’ll invite you to every show on the planet if it means he keeps getting free lunch. Although technically you don’t have to worry about that- I want you by my side every step of the way, lunch or no lunch.” Y/N laughs. “That’s one of the most romantic things I’ve heard all week. Maybe you should put that into a new song. ‘I’ll love you even if you don’t bring me takeout.’”

Luke pouts, and Y/N giggles at his mock sadness. “I’m kidding. Mostly.” Luke leans forward to kiss Y/N. “You had better be.” From across the room, Alex yells something at them. “If you guys keep making out in the middle of practice we’re going to ban you from the studio.” Y/N waves her hand at him. “I brought you food, you can’t ban me! I’m too important to the future of the band.” Reggie shrugs. “She’s right, you know. We might starve.” Alex swats him on the shoulder, and Y/N turns back to Luke with a slight smile.

“I can’t believe you’re playing at the Orpheum in a week. That’s so exciting!” Luke nods fervently. “Sometimes it doesn’t even feel real. Like I’ll wake up and find out we were actually booked to some other place, not the actual Orpheum.” Y/N smiles at him. “You’re going to do great, and that’s final. I can’t wait to see you guys perform.” Luke absentmindedly runs his fingers over Y/N’s knuckles, tapping out the beats of half-written songs. “I know we’ll do great. I’ve got my muse. All of my songs are about you, you know that.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Even ‘My Name is Luke?’” Luke groans. “Okay, maybe not that one. Almost all of my songs are about you. How about that?” Y/N beams at her boyfriend. “That sounds perfect.”

Luke jolts back to reality. He’s still standing in that same studio, but he’s back to the present day. He’s not in the 90s anymore, and it’s been decades since he was writing songs with Sunset Curve, preparing to take on the Orpheum for the first time. He’s standing in the exact same place as that one memory, when he’d been talking to her. They’d both been so happy, so exhilarated at the prospect of Sunset Curve’s Orpheum performance. Neither of them had known that Luke, Alex, and Reggie would die that night, permanently taking Luke away from everything he knew best. Away from her.

There’s a slight motion next to him, and Luke freezes before remembering that he’s not alone in the studio. Alex has just walked up beside him, although his friend’s gaze softens when he sees the troubled look on Luke’s face. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? You’re thinking about Y/N.” Luke sighs. “Yeah. I just- I can’t believe that all this time had passed. She isn’t here with us, and she didn’t eat those street dogs, so she must not have died. That means she grew up and she’s probably older now. I don’t know what to think about that.”

Alex nods slowly, placing his hand on Luke’s shoulder in a show of comfort. “We left so much behind that it’s hard to think about. If you ever want anyone to talk to, you know we’re all here. Julie too, although that might be more of a difficult conversation.” Luke blows out a slow breath. “That’s the problem. Things are going so well with Julie and the new band and everything that I feel like I should be happier, and I am, and then-” His voice trails off. Alex finishes the sentence for him. “And then you remember what life used to be like.”

Luke walks over to a photo tacked onto the wall. Julie had found some old snapshots of Sunset Curve and set them out in the studio. They were nice to see, but sometimes they tended to hurt instead of inspiring fond memories. One in particular catches his eye- the band and a couple of friends, mere hours before the Sunset Curve show at the Orpheum. It’s a faded Polaroid, showing a group of beaming teenagers pointing up at the Orpheum’s sign glowing in neon lights above them. Look what we’re about to do, they seem to say, look what we never got to finish.

Luke’s eye strays on the far right corner. He’s standing there, arm wrapped around a girl. Y/N. They’re both smiling, although in this shot neither of them are looking at the camera. Instead, they’re both turned towards each other, as if delighted by the simple fact that both of them are together. Luke remembers the details of that night in perfect clarity. They’d all arrived at the Orpheum and taken the photo, and then the boys had headed back to begin their sound checks. Y/N had watched them perform, making friends with a girl who worked at the venue. Rose, who Luke now knows is Julie’s mother.

Y/N always had this easy way of making friends. One smile, a few words, and it was like she’d known a stranger all their life. She and Rose had both cheered when Sunset Curve had finished their warmups, and then looked down at her watch in surprise. She’d said something about how she had to run and do some final checks with the venue staff, and she’d be right back. Y/N had kissed Luke quickly before dashing out the door with a promise that she’d be back in a second. Luke, Alex, and Reggie had disappeared down the block to get some street dogs. By the time Y/N had gotten back, papers and signatures held triumphantly in her hand, it was too late.

Luke doesn’t know what happened after that. He’s not positive that Y/N was there when he died, maybe arriving a few minutes after the fact. He’s not sure if that makes it better or not- although she’d be furious with herself for not being there to save him, Luke knows there was nothing she could have done. Would it have hurt more to be next to him, unable to do anything but watch as he breathed his last, or to have missed the entire thing? He supposes Y/N has had years to think the issue over.

Luke turns away from the photograph. His legs are itching to take him away, his heart racing to find something to do. The band doesn’t have practice today, so there’s nothing to distract him from the awful loneliness beating against his chest. He has to do something to get away from all of this, from the memories and the photographs and the knowledge that he had left the girl he loved behind and there was nothing to do to get her back. Luke mumbles something to Alex about how he’s going to take a walk, then poofs out of the studio, no clear destination in mind.

Luke reappears in the middle of a path. At first, he’s not quite sure where he is. There’s a line of pavement under his feet, leading away in front of him. Spring green boughs wave overhead, framing the way before him. The trees eventually clear out to form a clearing, and only then does Luke realize where he is. It’s the local cemetery, the place where all of Luke’s family have been buried. The place where surely he, too, lies at rest. His head must have some twisted sense of humor to bring him here.

Luke wavers one last moment, then decides to take off down the path. He’s never actually visited his own grave, as it seemed too morbid an activity to actually set out and do, but if he’s already here he might as well see it. There’s some sort of curiosity affixed to seeing your own headstone, weird as that may be, and at least now he can glance at it once and forget about it.

Luke passes between the long lines of gravestones, reading through the names. It’s late afternoon, and there’s almost nobody here at all. At least, there isn’t anybody here except one woman, who’s crouching before a headstone in the middle of the cemetery. On second thought, she appears to be around the place where Luke’s family is buried. As he walks over, he realizes that this woman is actually next to his grave.

She’s speaking quietly. “Nothing much happened today, but it’s a Saturday, so I had to drop by anyway.” Her head drops. “You’ve been gone for 25 years. Can you believe that? 25. I miss you still.” A bittersweet smile cracks her lips, and Luke’s heart twists at the pain in her voice. “I have children now. They’re just beginning to enter double digits. At some point, they’ll be older than you. I wish you could have met them, Luke. I think you’d like them a lot.”

Luke’s head flies up when she says his name. The way she said it sounded so familiar, like he’s heard this woman before. Like he knows her, and knows her very well. The woman freezes slightly- she must have seen his small motion out of the corner of her eye. But that doesn’t make sense, because lifers aren’t supposed to see ghosts like Luke. Yet the woman still stands, lightly brushing dirt off of her legs. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way. Didn’t see you there.”

The woman turns to face Luke, and her eyes widen. She stands for a moment, staring, and then her voice comes again, faltering and weak. “Luke?” She looks away from him, studying her own hands as if expecting them to be ghostly and translucent. “But you’re dead. How can you be here- Am I dead?” Luke shakes his head. “No, you’re not dead. I mean, I am, but I’m a, uh, ghost. You’re not a ghost. At least I don’t think so.” Luke’s voice trails off when the woman looks at him again. When she’s finally turned towards him, her face seems so familiar. It takes him a moment, and then he realizes who she is. “Y/N.”

It has to be her. There’s no way around it. Indeed, the second her name passes through his lips he knows it’s true. The Y/N standing before him is far older now, maybe in her late thirties or early forties. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? They were teenagers when he died, and if it’s been 25 years since then, she would have to be older. A slight lump forms in Luke’s throat. What would it have been like if he hadn’t died? Would he have been like this too? Would they have grown old together?

Y/N rubs a hand over her face as if in shock. “This makes no sense. I mean, you sound just like yourself and everything but-” Luke laughs quietly. “But ghosts aren’t real.” Y/N gestures loosely with her hand. “Exactly.” Her eyes flicker over him again, taking in every detail of his face as if committing it to memory. This small action itself is so strange to see- Luke remembers Y/N doing this at shows and practices, and it doesn’t feel right to see this similarity in a version of Y/N that is so much older, especially when Luke himself is still a teenager.

Luke’s voice is quiet. “Do you always visit my grave?” Y/N nods. “Every other Saturday. I think your mom and dad come all the time too. I try to give them some space.” She looks back at him, as if she can understand what he’s thinking. “We haven’t moved on so easily. There was a time right after you died when I thought we never would. I didn’t see how the earth could keep turning without my boys. And then the years kept passing by, and although the pain never got any easier we learned how to be happy too, how to keep the grief but remember you with brighter memories instead.”

She smiles, although her eyes are tinged with pain. “I’m married now.” She holds up her hand, and Luke’s gaze is drawn to the ring on her finger. “I think you’d like him a lot. We have two children, a boy and a girl. They know your parents well, we get together all the time. They supported me when I was in over my head, they pulled me out of a well when I was drowning in grief. I check in on them, and they check in on me. We were trying to do right by you.”

Luke feels like his legs are about to collapse underneath him. To see Y/N like this, so much older and calmer, feels like an earthquake tearing him apart. He doesn’t know why, but some part of him had almost assumed that she wouldn’t grow old either, that if he looked hard enough he could find her and they could be the same again. He knows now that he was wrong, although the sight of Y/N is still so reflexively exhilarating that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Luke forces himself to speak. “Are you- are you happy? Now, with your family?” Y/N nods, a radiant smile breaking out across her face. “I’m incredibly happy. Things are good now, and they’re going to keep being good for a very long time.” She looks at him, seeing the questions he’s too afraid to ask. “I’m sorry that things happened the way they did. I would have liked nothing more than to see you shine on that stage and have your star career the way that we always planned. I have a feeling that you’ve got a new chance now, a way to move on. I’d take it. You’ve always been able to stay on your feet and keep running forward. Don’t let that go.”

Luke nods. “Thank you, Y/N.” They exchange their goodbyes and then Luke disappears back into the trees. After a moment or two of walking, he poofs back into the studio. Luke walks on leaden limbs towards his songwriting notebook, flinging it open and reaching for a pencil. He turns to one page in particular, a song he’d begun writing for Y/N a few days before their performance at the Orpheum. He changes some lines, adds new chords, transposes the song from a major to a minor key. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but when he looks up at last, the song is finished.

The title sits at the top, a blurry gray after recent erasings. ‘Goodbye in C Minor.’ The beautiful start to a love he never got to see through.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagines #jatp #jatp imagine #jatp x reader #jatp imagines #jatp oneshot #luke patterson oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagine #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke oneshot

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theficplug · 3 years

Text

ll 𝒾 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 ll

Yahya x Black Reader

{a little malcolm & marie loosely, not so loosely inspired fic and after seeing a few things from Yahya. I’ve decided to write this.}

Warnings: none, i think ? possible tw: the brief mention of abandonment issues

Yahya was already padding through your shared cozy modern loft.

His “good shoes'' as he calls them, long forgotten by the welcome mat.

He headed straight to the kitchen to reheat leftovers from the Valentine's Day dinner you prepared for him last night.

“Hors d'oeuvres weren't cutting it baby. And it was dry as hell.” he says jokingly as he turns on the Alexa.

All Night by Beyonce plays softly in the background.

“What’s with you? You’ve barely said two words since we’ve gotten back from the event. You mad?” he asks slinging the blazer over the counter and kicking back against it.

"I'm not angry Yahya. I want to take this tight ass dress off, have a warm shower , and go to bed. Can I do that in peace? " You say to him as you kick off the heels and make your way to the bedroom.

He was right on your trails as he followed you in and crossed his arms.

“You looked beautiful tonight. Look at you.” he compliments

The day of love was supposed to be just that but it felt like it was veering towards the opposite end of the spectrum. You take off your ears placing them in the jewelry holder carefully before sighing and kicking off your heels next.

Yahya reassured you that he’d be home for Valentines Day but instead chose to take the last minute wrap dinner with his castmates and talk with the producers of his current project to secure the role on the next.

You were more than happy for your man after busting his ass and finally securing a major role in the reboot of Candy Man and the newest male lead in his upcoming show. You truly were but it seemed as though for a while now he held no space for you in his chaotic world.

You could feel Yahya eyeing you down as you silently, apart from the occasional huffing and puffy or mumbling little words to yourself.

Yahya stands in the doorway of your bedroom watching you angrily snatch the clothes from the floor and set them aside before unzipping your dress.

He frowns for a second before loosening his tie and contemplating walking over to you and helping you. After unzipping your cherry coloured silk gown the rest of the way his hands caresses slowly from your hips to your back, up your arms and finally settle on your shoulders. Yahya moves your hair curls to the side for a second placing soft kisses on to your neck.

His hands already pulling at the end of your dress to your waist letting his hands wander

He gazes at you for a moment noticing that the stoic expression is still etched across your face.

"So you just gon’ be silent with me the whole night? No congratulatory kisses for your man."

“For.” kiss. “Your.” kiss. “Man.” kiss.

He whispers again against your neck and you move his hands off of you gently.

"What’s up with you?" He asks again this time his voice laced with confusion as he tries to figure out why you've been acting this way since you left the event and the restaurant.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm just tired. I ended up working all day yesterday since you didn’t come home and now I just want to relax and sleep." You reply before stripping down to just your stockings and grabbing your shower gels and caddy.

"How am I supposed to fix whatever is going on here if you're going to act like this? What's wrong with you?" He asks again this time a little more concerned with the way you brushed him off.

"What's wrong with me? Hmmm, Let's see, I've had to take care of our home and its repairs by myself for the past 8 months. I feel like I’m in a relationship by myself most days. And my fiance drives me to yet another fucking cast dinner . Where he fails to put his castmate in her place when she was clearly flirting with him right in front of his fiancee." You unload and Yahya whips his head around at you to process all of your words.

He cocks his head to the side before scoffing at your accusations.

"So, instead of telling me how you felt you’d rather fucking explode on me on tonight of all nights. When I’ve just landed a record breaking 6 season extension and approval from Netflix. Who basically has the film industry by it’s balls right now. I’m not a mind reader. Baby, I didn’t know that she was going to say all of that. I was trying to be professional and let her make a fool of herself all on her own." He replies and you walk in the bathroom to put all of your things on the counter.

“Oh, I picked you because I knew we would drive the fans absolutely freaking wild. You know we’re just hot and have that chemistry on and off camera to make it you know like, work. Love scenes are easy to portray when you’ve got a man like Yah as your scene partner.” you mock her nasally and obnoxious tone as you pucker your lips mimicking her stiff lip fillers.

"You never do Yahya. Nothing’s ever your fault! The waitress that asked if you could bench press her. The random woman holding onto your arm at the “celebratory dinner” in Denmark. I saw the pictures. You can have your head tossed back laughing hysterically with her but you can't even pick up the phone and see how your fiancee is holding up in the first winter without you here.``

"That’s not fair. It was dinner. The director’s daughter. A dinner that he attended too. What do you want me to say? "No I'll sit this one out because my girl doesn't want me to talk to other people because she still hasn't learned to deal with her insecurities and projects them onto everything I do"." he retorts and you stare him in the eye before tears well in yours.

The silence falls over both of you as you stare him down. He was really standing here bringing out things you've told him during past pillow talks.

You stare at each other in the mirror and he immediately wraps his arms around you to apologize and kiss all over your shoulder and face.

"No, You tell them that I can count on one hand how many months out of the year we spent together last year. You tell them that my girl had to spend Christmas watching everyone else get loved on and share the holiday cheer while I got to watch you skii over facetime. You tell them my girl made a beautiful steak dinner last night and got me tickets to watch my favourite fucking team for VaIentine’s Day, but I’d rather spend it talk about an old white guy’s scripts. I thought about breaking up with you around Thanksgiving before you came home. I blamed it on the distance, you know. I just felt that way because I only ever got to see you over facetime for what seemed like an hour or 2 a day. I said that when you came home everything would be okay again. I think that I may have been wrong. There’s two people in this relationship. But I also feel as though I may be holding onto something that's just not there." you tell him before grabbing your things out of his hands and stepping into the shower.

Yahya swallowed hard and looked down at you for a moment, his jaw going slack for a second but his pride not letting him admit that he may have been in the wrong.

"You didn’t tell me none of this. When I call you and I ask you how are you feeling? You always say it’s fine , it’s fine, everything’s fine. I mean we knew the kind of lives we lived when we got on this ride together. You traveled. I traveled. We traveled together. That’s how it was until you decided that acting wasn’t for you. I’m not abandoning you bae. That’s not what’s happening here." Yahya explains as he starts his skincare routine.

You let the warm water wash over you and the coils of your hair as you peel off the lashes and let out a long sigh.

Yahyah knew that one of your things was that you didn’t want to feel like a burden or to feel like you’ve been forgotten but this rough spat felt different.

"I wanted you. I wanted you to hold me and tell me you loved me and that I looked pretty for once."

"You always look pretty though. You know that."

“Happy Anniversary, Yahya.” you say quietly and you can hear him let out a drawn out “damn it” as he washes the cleanser off his face and looks up at you through the fogged glass.

He drops his head slighly as he stands at the door before openingn it. .

“I’m going to fix all of this. I love you and I want you to know that I’m sorry. You are the last person in my life that I wanna lose or hurt. I need you to know that I’m still the one you can turn to. You’re still the one I wanna experience this life with. Your greatest joys and highs. Your sad days when you just need to be held. The days where we lay together in bed and I can hear your heartbeat. Probably the cheesiest shit you've ever heard but it's my favourite sound I mean you calling out my name is a close second but that one is my favourite.” he reassures. He relaxes against your touch when you turn to face him and wrap your arms around him.

Yahya embraces you, unphased by the fact that his shirt and pants are getting soaked.

“Now that I’m thinking about it. I’ve fallen in love with you over and over again. There’s so many layers to you. It’s everyday I’m falling in love with something new about you. Even on days like this. First time I fell in love with you. We were sitting at this coffee shop tapping your pencil against a notepad. You had Diary by Alicia Keys stuck in your head and you kept singing parts of the song to me throughout the day. You had this pretty floral pattern type of baby blue dress that fell off your shoulders. You wore your grandmother’s ring cause you said it always calms your nerves to have her there with you when you auditioned. Nobody had even heard of me before. I was going for some feature film role. At the time you were going for a recurring role on the Young & The Restless or some show like that. I remember you were reading the script and you let out a laugh. It was your laugh. The loud remedy of it curing the butterflies in my stomach. The little patch of the 4c bangs in the front, the rest of your hair slicked back into a puff. I loved the way that it framed your lil round face. The gold hoops against your deep beautiful brown skin. I liked the way you did your makeup. With the lil highlight at the tip of your nose. It made you look like a lil fairy...I proposed to you that day. After 6 months of knowing you. Baby it was you, everything about you. You were laughing at having dump iced coffee all over your scene partner’s head but I was smiling because I knew. I was like so this is what made all them oldheads sing like that in the blues songs my daddy used to play. I wanted to be in it for the long haul. And I still do. I know I got a lot of making up to do. But I want you to know that I see you. I see you and I’m going to do what I need to do to make everything more than just alright. I love you.”

You let his words soak in as he cupped your face and you nodded along to his words. After helping him strip off his drenched clothes he steps into the shower with you where you embraced him in your arms gain.

“You’ve always told me that you knew early on but you never told me. I love you too, you know. It’s just you know how I am more than anybody. I know that your dreams are finally coming true and you deserve that. I don’t want to stand in the way of that. But I still find a way to balance my work and our relationship. I just want you to meet me in the middle.” you say against his lips before capturing his plump lips in a kiss.

“I’m gonna fix it..” He reassures you in between kisses

“We’ve still got 3 hours left of our anniversary. Our record is 5. We can still try to break that” you whisper in his ear-

( i don’t know what this is lol. sorry I didn’t get any valentines posts up. i had a whole migraine and have had more low days than up in the past weeks but we keep going. i hoped you like this little, i dont know what to call it. i dont really know how to write fluff lol so here’s the angst.)

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya x black reader #fanfic for black girls

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Surprise Hit

On a con Eliot is recognized by someone who has a hit on him and has to run.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of some mafia dealings

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con went to shit.

This happened often enough with a mark not making the expected choice, a firewall taking longer to crack than anticipated or someone showing up that was not supposed to. It was normal, however the way it went to shit this time was unique. “Nate, I got a problem,” Eliot announced.

“What is it?” Nate asked over the coms. It was an integral part of the plan that Eliot talked to their mark, John Fernsby, and convinced him to meet with Sophie. Nate would have done it, but he had already been the one to go in and convince the billionaire that thebusiness was worth investing in and Hardison was needed to help Parker into the safe. It had to be Eliot.

But Eliot said there was a problem, which was bad. However, it was about to get worse when Eliot answered: “He’s talking with a foreign dignitary, but I know he isn’t. That’s Mikhail Volkov, Russian mob. He has a hit out on me.”

“The fuck, man,” Hardison replied.

“I didn’t pick it either, okay,” Eliot hissed back. “But if he sees me, we’re fucked. Well, I’m fucked and someone has to take my part in the con.”

Hardison had pulled up the camera feed of the gala and watched how Eliot turned away from the mark and tried to leave them room without pulling any attention to himself. He almost managed too, were it not for a serenade band coming in right as he was near the exit.

It was such a stupid little thing that they couldn't have predicted and it was so incredibly ill-timed that Eliot had no room to come up with something. Mikhail turned to the band and saw Eliot, his brow furrowed and he yelled: “Stop that man!” as Eliot started to sprint, multiple people now on his trail.

He pushed over furniture behind him and swerved while a few bullets started to fly around his head, dangerously close. In his ear Hardison was giving him directions to Lucille, but he knew he could not return to the team. Not right now.

The Russian mob was not known for their leniency and if they thought he had people he worked with, then they would only target them as well. No, he had to go into hiding on his own and return to them later, when he could shake off his pursuers. In his ear he heard Hardison rant at him as he took the wrong turn, but Eliot didn’t care. He had a plan.

On the street it was easier to disappear, though he got many looks from people as they cleared the way for him while he ran like a madman. There were a few screams when the Russians appeared behind him with guns.

If it were a normal day and he was on his own, he would have stayed to fight them, but he was wearing a suit he couldn't easily fight in and Sophie and Parker had still been in the building, he couldn't risk them for something stupid he’d done in the past. And when he was outside, he didn’t have the surprise advantage or the closeness to take on that many guys with guns.

So, he ran.

His lungs were burning in his chest and his legs would be jelly were it not for the fact that he regularly ran long tracks in case he got in this exact situation.

It took a while, but the bullets stopped flying around his head and he couldn't hear any footsteps behind him anymore. He took a moment to focus on the chatter over the coms. His brain hadn’t heardany of the key words to get his attention in the background, so he assumed it was all fine.

“Eliot, Eliot, are you listening to me?” That was Nate.

“I’m here,” he grunted, checking in the alley if there was anyone still following, before starting to climb the fire escape.

“What are you doing? Hardison’s GPS says you’re nowhere near the hotel. We need to regroup and figure out our next move,” Nate said as Sophie asked: “Are you okay, Eliot?”

He replied: “I’m fine, Sophie. Just didn’t want to lead a group of armed mobster to our hotel room when their goal is to kill me and all my associates.”

“They’re coming to kill us?” Hardison’s squeaky voice came through the speaker.

“Not if they don’t know I’m with you,” Eliot assured him, “which is why I’m not at the hotel right now. I think I’ve shaken them off, but just in case I’m taking a long way round. Probably won’t come through the doors.”

Thenhe tuned them out again. It might be rude and he heard they were still asking him all sorts of questions, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. He had other things to focus on and the last thing he wanted was to tell them why there was a hit on his head from this particular mobster.

Going through the city over the roof, he saw a few familiar stances and haircuts stationed at public places where he would hide, as well as at the hotels and he knew he had made the right decision to take this route.

Mentally he was trying to figure out why Mikhail was here of all places talking with their mark. It could be that he was laundering money and their mark having a connection with the mob could both help and be an issue. He could get into witness protection in turn for information, but it was also proof that his business wasn’t clean, even if they had wanted to get him for the stealing of company funds that screwed over his employees’ safety.

But that was not his business to think about, but Nate’s. He would wait for what the man had to say about this development, but in order to do that, he needed to get back to the hotel.

There were also “guards” at the entrance of their hotel, but the team was only on the fourth floor and while they weren’t close to the fire escape, Eliot could get up high and then go side wards over the ridge to their window.

He gave Hardison a heart attack when he got at the window. They hadn’t left it open, much to his chagrin, but were luckily there to open it for him and it was better not to have a weakness in the defense, so he couldn't blame them.

“What the hell, man,” Hardison said. “Give someone a warning before you go around showing up in front of the window. Did you even have safety or something? We’re up high. You could have fallen to your death, Eliot.”

“Yeah and if I had gone through the front door, I would have been shot,” he pointed out tiredly from where he was lying on the floor.

Parker was looking out the window and smiled: “Oeh, that’s a good climbing ridge indeed.”

“Woman!” Hardison exclaimed, while Eliot said: “We could do without the attention to our room, Parker, maybe next time.” She looked sad and glanced over one more time, before closing the window with a pout.

“Care to explain what happened?” Nate asked as he leaned over him. He did that face where he attempted innocence, but failed.

“Got recognized by someone who’s sort of actively trying to kill me,” Eliot replied with what they already knew.

“Sort of actively?” Sophie asked and Eliot was glad he could explain something not that bad to them instead of the other stuff. “Yeah, there’s a difference between saying, ‘hey if you manage to kill this person and prove it you get money,’ and ‘I am hiring you to kill this person within a time frame.’ Mikhail is the former. If I die, he would be happy, but he’s not putting extra resources in finding me and eliminating me.”

“And why would be be happy if you’re dead?” Fucking Nate always sticking his nose everywhere.

“I met him once,” Eliot wasn’t giving him shit.

“Would I be correct in assuming that the meeting ended in a loss on his end?” Nate replied.

“Maybe.” He was neither confirming or denying, not if there was no explicit reason. He hadn’t felt bad about the blow to Mikhail’s organization. It hadn’t been the worst he’d done and Mikhail had a smuggling ring of sex workers and that had been awful to find.

“Okay, so we know Fernsby has connections to the Russian mob,” Nate thought out loud. “So, he’s not only stealing money from his employees, but laundering dirty money as well. If we can tie those together then we’re set.”

“Mikhail has a weakness for brunettes,” Eliot informed him, not telling him how he got that tidbit of knowledge. “He also likes gambling.”

Nate got a glint in his eye as he looked to Sophie, who smiled back. Of course those two would have a plan without needing to communicate.

“You’re out for the rest of the con,” Nate told him. “Can’t have you risk the entire thing if you’re recognized.”

“What? No!” Eliot sat up. “I need to be there to have your back. With the Russians it’s only going to get more dangerous. I’m not leaving you to your fate with those people, they’re dangerous, Nate. This isn’t just some cushy billionaire anymore.”

“And what if he gets suspicious of Sophie because of you, what will you do then, Eliot?” Nate shot back. “I’m not saying you need to stay here, but I am saying you need to keep out of sight. You’re with Hardison in Lucille.”

Eliot wanted to protest, wanted to be closer to the danger in case it went to shit, he wanted to be there when a mistake from his past came back, but he couldn't argue with Nate’s logic and sometimes he hated that about the man.

So, he found himself watching the screens in Lucille as Sophie tried to get Mikhail to make a gamble on her company, to ditch Fernsby, because he was doing it without him and leaving him out of the profits.

He was filled with jittery energy, but so far so good.

“Hey, Eliot,” Hardison opened. “What’s it like, you know, to have a hit on your head? I mean, I’m wanted in some countries, but that’s just boring government stuff, not actual people, like persons, wanting me dead personally, you know.”

“Are you really asking me what it’s like when someone wants you killed?” Eliot asked him.

“I guess,” Hardison shrugged, trying not to look like he wanted to know the answer and failing miserably.

“It’s not that different from being wanted by the government, I suppose,” Eliot finally answered, surprising Hardison. “You just gotta watch out for different things and hope no one is desperate enough for cash to go after you. I have a good enough reputation that hardly anyone tries, but I’ve had periods where I had multiple people on my trail across a dozen countries. It was exhausting, but I get it. Kill me and you can make a lot of people with a lot of money happy.”

“Wait, hold on, reverse and repeat,” Hardison said. “A lot of people?”

“Yeah,” Eliot replied, didn’t Hardison know this? “I got more than one hit on my head. I think it’s five. Used to be six, but one of them died and the bounty fell through. Though I never knew if that one English guy put one on my head as well. And of course, the countries, but those are always lazy about it, so I don’t worrry too much about those.”

“What the fuck, man.”

Eliot didn’t see the big deal. He had done a lot to deserve it and he had learned to live with it. He hadalways kept one eye open anyway.

He focused back on the screen, despite the hiccup earlier with him, the con ran smoothly on its new course and Sophie was phenomenal as he pitted the two guys against one another, making them sell each other out in the end.

Nate was there with the police and both were arrested with illegal cash on their hands and a lot of bank records detailing their dirty schemes as well as showing the abysmal circumstances of the workers that had gone unaddressed in favor of laundering money.

Later when they were sitting in the bar, Nate turned to him and asked: “Any more of that we should be worried about?”

Before Eliot could answer, Hardison had jumped in: “Apparently between five and six more times.”

“No, between four and five,” Eliot corrected. “Mikhail is no longer on the list, but honestly we couldn't have predicted this and there are too many bad guys I’ve known, double crossed, worked for or left that are still out there. We can’t account for all of them. I’ll try to be aware of which marks could have ties to other’s I’ve known, but you don’t get to be good in my line of work without enemies.”

Nate wanted to say something else, but Sophie was quicker. “I’m not keeping track of all the people I have grifted either, Nate,” she said. “We all have a past and you’re not harping me about that or Parker on all she’s stolen. Just because Eliot’s past is a bit different, doesn’t mean we can treat it differently in our team.”

Eliot didn’t fully agree with the comparison. His enemies we’re not the same and one of them coming back would be worse than it was for others.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. Not right now.

He thought of all the people he killed, all the families he’d left behind with one member less. He thought of Moreau and the horrible things he’d done for that man. He thought of the US Army that had turned him into a killer and set him loose on foreign soil for the first time.

And he thought of his team. Of how glad he was he knew them and how they made him better and didn’t force him to be a person he hated. How much they meant to him and how badly he didn’t want to loose that.

So he stayed quiet and let Sophie defend him, hoping his past would not come back like that again.

A/N:

Sorry that the con is kinda vague, I only had the ‘the mark/someone there has a hit on Eliot and he needs to run’ and no clear plan on running the con in the background. Hope it was still enjoyable :D

#RR writing #leverage #leverage tv #eliot spencer #nate ford #sophie devereaux #parker #leverage parker #alec hardison

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rayveewrites · 3 years

Note

What did Alex the scientist do when they got to Stress's place? Did they take her back to the research outpost or just left her to do her thing?

Stress hummed as she checked the furnaces, aware of Alex's eyes burning into the back of her head. They weren’t a very talkative individual, or maybe they were still recovering from the cold. Poor thing- a blizzard was not something a Human should ever seek to get caught in. They were lucky Stress had found them. She hadn’t even realized there was anyone else out here.

“Are you alone?” she asked, curious. “Or are your servermates nearby?”

“⟇⊓⟃ ⅃⟔□ ⋖⟃<? ⟇⊓⅃> ⅃⟔□ ⋖⟃< v⅃⋖｢⊡ꓶ?”

Stress paused. Blinked for a second.

“Sorry luv, I’m not quite sure what you’re saying. Do you speak Galactic?”

“⊓⟃⟇'⊐ ⋖⟃< ⊐⟃ >⊓⅃> >⊓｢⊡ꓶ ⟇｢>⊓ >⊓□ v⊡⟃⟇?”

Okay. This was an issue. How was Stress supposed to make sure Alex was okay when she couldn’t even understand them?

“Right,” she muttered. “I don’t have any pen and paper… Oh! I know!” Stress covered one of the blocks on the ground in a very thin layer of snow.

Alex jumped back, their face a mask of shock.

“⟇⊓⅃>- ⊓⟃⟇- ⊓⟃⟇?!”

“Oh, have you not seen environmental magic before? It’s pretty rare.” Stress held out her hand and summoned a few snowflakes to float above it.

Alex stared, and Stress floated them over toward them. They held out their hand and stress landed the flakes in it, where they quickly melted thanks to the Human’s body heat.

“Right,” Stress said, “Where’s your base?” She drew a crude house in the snow, hoping they’d understand what she was trying to say.

“⋖⟃<... ⟇⅃⊡> >⟃ ⊍⊡⟃⟇ ⟇⊓□⟔□ >⊓□ ⊔⅃v□ ｢v?”

“Where’s your base?” Stress asked slowly, pointing to the drawing. The blizzard was dying down, but it would still be a while before it ended.

"｢ v>｢⦝⦝ ⌞⅃⊡'> <⊡⊐□⟔v>⅃⊡⊐ ⋖⟃<."

Right, they probably didn’t know where Stress’ hut was in regards to anything else.

“Once the storm’s over, I’ll take you back to the place I found you. Is that okay?”

"⟇⊓⋖ ⅃⟔□ ⋖⟃< ⟇⅃⊡⊐□⟔｢⊡ꓶ ⅃⟔⟃<⊡⊐ ｢⊡ v⊓⟃⟔>v?"

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

***

“Alex,” the alien lady said a while later. Alex looked up in shock.

“How do you know my name?!”

“𝙹⍑, ∷╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ , リ𝙹リ!¡ꖎᔑ||ᒷ∷ᓭ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ꖌリ𝙹∴ 𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷'ᓭ リᔑᒲᒷᓭ, ↸𝙹 ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ||? ╎'ᒲ ᓭℸ ̣ ∷ᒷᓭᓭ.”

“What-”

Alien lady pointed at her chest.

“ᓭℸ ̣ ∷ᒷᓭᓭ.”

“Uh… your name is Stress?”

“||ᒷᔑ⍑!” Stress cheered.

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain how you know my name.”

“ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ʖꖎ╎⨅⨅ᔑ∷↸ ᓭ⍑𝙹⚍ꖎ↸ ʖᒷ 𝙹⍊ᒷ∷ ᓭ𝙹𝙹リ. ||𝙹⚍ 𝙹ꖌᔑ|| ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ∴ᔑ╎ℸ?”

“What?”

"∴⍑ᔑℸ?"

***

Stress stood up and stretched. The blizzard was finally over, and as lovely Alex’s company was, it wouldn’t be right to keep them there. Besides, what if they had servermates?

Maybe she’d be allowed to visit.

“Alex, I’ll be taking you back to where I found you. Will you be able to find your way back to your base from there?”

"｢ v⊓⟃<⦝⊐ ⸅⟔⟃⊔⅃⊔⦝⋖ ꓶ□> ⊔⅃⌞⊍ >⟃ >⊓□ ⊔⅃v□. >⊓□⋖ ⟄｢ꓶ⊓> >⊓｢⊡⊍ ｢ ⊏⟔⟃⟑□ ⟃<> >⊓□⟔□."

“Okay. Come on,” she opened the door, already searching for the trail of magic she’d left keeping the Human safe. It hadn’t been a particularly difficult or energy-intensive spell, but it had left a slight trace in the air and on the ground.

“C’mon!” Alex padded out behind her, gaze drifting to where Stress stood on the snow.

"⟃⊍⅃⋖, v□⟔｢⟃<v⦝⋖, ⊓⟃⟇ ⅃⟔□ ⋖⟃< ⊐⟃｢⊡ꓶ >⊓⅃>."

“Sorry luv, but I won’t be able to both trace the magic and keep you on the snow’s surface. Is that okay?”

Alex just stared at her blankly.

***

Stress led them over the landscape, moving with surprising confidence. Alex had no idea how she knew where she was going, but they didn’t have any better ideas. She kept up a string of chatter in her strange language, her tone light and cheerful. Alex still had no idea what she was saying, but that didn’t seem to put her off.

Alex was getting the idea that Stress was just Like That.

Eventually the woman stopped, looking down at the snow-covered ground. It was hard to make out, but Alex could see the hollow where they’d sheltered.

“ᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍ 𝙹ꖌᔑ|| ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᒲᔑꖌᒷ ||𝙹⚍∷ ∴ᔑ|| ⍑𝙹ᒲᒷ ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ?” Stress said, her tone gentle. Alex gave her a blank look, and Stress drew another house in the snow.

“Are you asking if I can find my way back?” They looked around. They could just see the outline of one of the buildings in the distance.

“Oh, there it is.” They pointed, knowing Stress couldn’t understand them.

Stress made a noise, and then Alex felt the snow supporting their weight.

They trailed after the strange woman.

***

“Alex!” Jared hurried out of the station, relieved to see the ornithologist safe and sound. “Uh… who’s this?”

“This is Stress,” Alex told him. “She’s the woman we saw on the cameras. She uh, found me in the middle of the blizzard.”

“In the middle of-”

“I don’t think the snow bothers her,” Alex hesitated. “Or the wind, for that matter.”

“⍑╎! リ╎ᓵᒷ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᒲᒷᒷℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍, Jared.” The man in question started.

“What on Earth?”

“Yeah, I don’t understand what’s going on either.”

“Are you sure she’s human?”

“I have my doubts.”

“Right,” Jared said. “Well, Stress, we’re a bit short on staff for the moment, so I don’t see why you can’t stay...”

“ᓭ𝙹∷∷||, ʖ⚍ℸ ̣ ╎ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ᓭ!¡ᒷᔑꖌ ||𝙹⚍∷ ꖎᔑリ⊣⚍ᔑ⊣ᒷ.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t speak English,” Alex supplied.

Jared just stared at them with an are-you-serious look on his face.

#Jared is wondering what he's gotten into #he has Many Questions #he signed up to manage a research station not deal with magic ladies from 2000 years ago #at least Stress is one of the easier hermits to deal with #imagine if he got Etho or Bdubs #then *he'd* be the stressed one #rayvee actually writes #moonlight22oa #ask #last player au #hermitcraft au #stressmonster101

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 3]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, anal play, panty stuffing, toys that have fake cum, a bit of drunk ‘n dom!seungcheol, masturbation, daddy!kink 😳😏 yall! and we are back! I’m sorry we had to take a pause from last week but hopefully we won’t have anymore issues! 😭😭 this chapter is about 6.5k so strap in for the ride yall! and as always, thank you all soooo much for the support and love on my fics T_T it means so much to me! 💕 I hope yall have a good weekend bbys!! 🍒

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - ?

dom.cheol has donated $250

angelhan: :( i still cant believe i missed ur morning show…

chwenon: me too, i wouldn’t have stayed up til 6am had i known lol

sleepy_wonu: tbf, i couldve gotten kicked out of lab if i got caught watching… worth it tho

dom.cheol: i was at work but anything for u, baby.

You can’t help but pout at the camera reading the comments; knowing that some of your viewers were working or in class when you had done your surprise show. “Aww, m’sorry… I know it was so out of place for me but… You guys probably get it too, right?” You pause, sliding off of the pillow you were sitting on top of. You’d done a short show tonight; doing a strip tease for the camera before mounting a pillow and grinding against it until you came; fingertips gripping onto the silk as breathy moans spilled from your lips.

“Y’know? When you wake up and you’re just so needy.”

hoshi_tiger_xx: all the time, baby!

gentleman_josh95: literally me this morning ;(

“Right? See you guys get me!” You giggle. The sound of donations and comments sound off in the background as you zone out for a second.

It had already been a couple days since then and this was your first show back. You and Seungcheol had texted sporadically; a little bit of awkwardness on both ends if you were completely honest. He seemed genuinely shy which was not what you expected at first but you also knew it must’ve been weird for him to suddenly have unrestricted access to you. Seungcheol seemed to be unsure of what he was able to ask you or talk to you about, even though you had assured him that you wanted to get to know him just like regular friends.

In your case, Seungcheol was undeniably hot and seemed to really like you which sent the butterflies in your stomach soaring each and every time your phone pinged.

kitty_junjun: hey can i ask a weird question

You tilt your head, eyes blinking cutely at the camera. “Of course!”

kitty_junjun: do u think you’ll ever have a show with someone else? Like a guest or sth? I know we’ve asked before but i’m just curious since your anniversary is comin up again...

Biting your lip, you watch as the others chime in, asking the same question. In truth, you had considered it maybe once or twice. But that came with risks. Not only would you have to find someone who was okay with being on camera with you, but you also ran the risk of losing viewers if they weren’t happy with who it was or how it turned out.

Seungcheol bites his lip reading the comments; he’d thought about it too.

He thought about if he’d be jealous, which he convinced himself he wouldn’t be. He would.

And whether or not he would pay to be the person to join you on cam and fuck you in front of all your viewers.

He definitely would.

“Mmm… I mean, I definitely thought about it before? But wouldn’t it be weird to see someone else on my shows? And, like, an actual… guy?” You watch the comments fly past, donations getting lost in the flurry of comments saying that you should do it.

universe_WZ: and miss the chance of seeing u getting fucked and put in ur place like a good girl?

universe_WZ: i will pay top dollar

alphagyu97: same

artist8hao: also same

dom.cheol: you already know how much we’d all love to see your cute lil cunt getting filled up with a real cock, sweetheart.

You bite your lip in thought, glancing at the camera with a coy expression. “Hmm, okay! I’ll keep thinking about it… I really want to but it’s gonna take some time to find the right person and make sure they’re okay with being on cam with me too~”

j__min: u should ask me, i cam sometimes too… we should collab ;)

Trying to hide the awkwardness, you laugh it off, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Oh? A camboy that watches me? That’s interesting~”

There were usually only 13 of your viewers who you considered to be your ‘regulars’ and you knew them all by their usernames. Of course, there were others who seemed to comment here and there and lots of anonymous donations and comments as well. But the newcomer seemed to be very interested in you and you weren’t sure how to take it just yet.

“Hmm~ Okay! I think I’m gonna end the show here! It’s getting kinda late now, huh? I ended up staying and chatting too long again~”

dom.cheol has donated $300

universe_WZ has donated $100

dom.cheol: it’s okay baby we like talking to u :)

sleepy_wonu: agreed

You stick your tongue out, winking at the camera before you say your goodbyes and last few thank you’s.

“I’ll see you guys next time~ Sleep well and dream of me!”

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, rolling his computer chair away from his desk as soon as you go offline. You’d been as cute as you normally were, but this time he felt like your lust filled eyes pierced the screen a little harder than usual.

He reaches for his phone, opening your text window before typing a quick response. ‘Great show tonight, baby. ;)’ Pausing, he wonders if it’s a little too weird to text right after you’d finished a show; but instead hits send. The read receipt shows up immediately after which alerts Seungcheol you already had your text window up when he messaged you.

babygirl 🍒 : i was just about to message u!! hehe, how are u?

Seungcheol bites his lip. Would it be too much to call? He ponders.

‘Hey, is it okay to call? If ur busy, it’s okay. Just figured it’d be quicker than typing.’ He hits send before he can regret it, watching as the read receipt shows up under his message again.

In a few seconds, it’s his phone that rings, your display name at the top as he accepts your call.

“Cheollie!” Seungcheol’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest at your nickname for him, hand clutching the phone tightly as he tries to calm himself down. “Hey, sweetheart. Sorry, you must be tired? I just thought this would’ve been quicker.” He chuckles, standing from his computer chair as he makes his way towards his bed.

“Oh, not at all! I’m just tidying up so I have you on speaker right now~ If that’s okay?”

“Mm, of course, baby.”

Seungcheol takes the time to lay in his bed, a deep sigh escaping him as he relaxes into the sheets. “Everything okay, ‘Cheol?” Your voice is soft and gentle; music to his ears as he stares at the ceiling.

“Yeah! Just… the comments have been weird, huh?” He ends it with an awkward laugh, hoping you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Oh, are you talking about people asking me to invite someone or the new guy in the comments?” Seungcheol doesn’t know which he wants to talk about first. “I guess both?” He inquires, hoping that it’s not too prying.

You make a humming noise on the other end, deciding which one to address first. “Mm, I mean… I would love to have someone else on the show with me but I don’t know… Don’t you think it’d be weird? I feel like I’ve been doing my show for so long by myself but maybe I should start trying other stuff…” You trail off, leaving it open-ended for Seungcheol’s opinion.

“It’s ultimately up to you, sweetheart. But---But if you do, just promise me you’ll make sure everything with this person checks out, okay? I mean--I just want you to be safe, don’t let it just be some weirdo off the internet.” Seungcheol blushes, words leaving his lips in a hurried mess. Sometimes he hated how overprotective he was of you. “And--and make sure they take a STD test and stuff, y’know?” Your giggles pour out of the phone receiver as Seungcheol hides his face in one of his pillows.

“Is this in reference to the ‘j__min’ person offering their services?” Yes.

“No…” Seungcheol mutters, somehow already knowing that you didn’t believe it.

“‘Cheol~ don’t worry. I’m not gonna get into cahoots with someone I don’t know. And honestly, it kinda weirds me out how he came out of nowhere… Makes me wonder if he was some anonymous viewer or donator this entire time and then decided to have a name.” There’s a pause on your end; Seungcheol hearing the washing machine going off.

“And anyway, if I were to do a cam show with someone else, I think I’d want to know them really well, don’cha think? Like a friend, maybe?”

Seungcheol lets you go to sleep after 15 more minutes of chatting; making sure you down a glass of water and get some food delivered before he lets you go for the night.

He places his phone down onto the nightstand, tugging his shirt off as he stands. But his phone pings not a second later, confusion crossing his features as he picks it up.

‘Hey hyung, don’t forget we’re going to that new diner across town tomorrow after work!!! I’m gettin me some disco fries baby!!!! - ggukie’

Seungcheol ends work 30 minutes later than he should the next day and Jeongguk watches from the concession stand as Seungcheol trudges over, fingertips running through his silvery-blue hair as he sighs.

“Some kid fuckin’ puked in the restroom and nobody wanted to clean it up so guess who did.” He complains, leaning his head onto the cool countertop as Jeongguk pats his head comfortingly. “Not my job but you should’ve called someone else. Where was Yoongi-hyung?”

“Gone, as per usual. We both know he clocks out 30 minutes early.”

The two laugh half-heartedly, making sure they have their things before they leave for the night. The night shift crew had already checked in just a few minutes prior; Taehyung and Hoseok waving them off as they leave.

They hop into Seungcheol’s car; Jeongguk already fiddling with the radio controls as Seungcheol puts in the address for the new diner that had opened up. “I hope this place is good. It seems to get a lot of good reviews for a place that just opened up, like, two weeks ago.” Jeongguk nods, settling into his seat as Seungcheol pulls out of the parking lot.

“We live in a city that’s straight out of an episode of Riverdale. I mean, we work at a roller rink? And there’s diners all over? But we’re in the present day with present day technology? Soon we’ll be Archie and Jughead. Except I want to be Jughead since I have the tattoos so you can be Archie. Or we can both be, like, from the Serpents but I still want to be Jughead.”

Seungcheol raises a brow at Jeongguk’s references.

“I don’t know that show so all of that just went over my head.”

It takes approximately 30 minutes to get across town; the huge neon lights from the diner welcoming them into the parking lot as Seungcheol parks the car somewhere near the entrance.

“God, was it just me or did that take a long time? I’m fuckin’ starving.” Seungcheol mutters; hopping out of the driver’s seat. “I think you’re just hungry, hyung.” Jeongguk offers, jogging up to the other male as they make their way to the doors.

Thankfully, the place seemed relatively empty for a Thursday night, a lone male standing at the front of the diner in a pastel coloured uniform.

“Hey! Welcome to Dynamite, my name’s Jun! Table for two?” Seungcheol nods slowly, eyes narrowing at the male who, for whatever reason, seemed familiar.

Jun picks up two menus, guiding them to a booth in the far corner of the diner. “We’re just a little understaffed tonight so I’ll also be your server tonight! Can I get you guys some water to start?” The two nod as they sit in the multi-coloured booth. “Hey, can I ask you something?” Jun blinks, nodding slowly as Seungcheol peers up at him from where he’s seated.

“I feel like I’ve met you? It’s weird. I’m pretty sure we’ve never met though…?” Seungcheol trails off, confused eyes meeting Jun’s. Jun wracks his brain, unsure, but feeling the same way. “I dunno, I feel the same but I’m pretty sure we never met. Maybe a past life thing?”

Jeongguk laughs, eyes too focused on the menu in front of him. “Oh, that’d be weird as fuck.”

“Anyway, I’ll come back with your water!” Jun walks away, leaving Seungcheol and Jeongguk to go through the menu.

“Hey, Seungcheol-hyung?”

“Mm?��

“I know you said you’re usually busy on the weekends but I’m doing a PUBG stream on Saturday and was wondering if you wanted to hang? I asked Yoongi-hyung too and he’s coming over to drink and hang out.” Seungcheol’s lips press into a firm line, eyes burning holes into the menu in front of him.

Jeongguk was a video game streamer sometimes and his streaming schedule lined up with yours which is why Seungcheol almost never had a chance to watch or be a part of Jeongguk’s. “Um, what time is it at?”

“I’m thinking of streaming from like 6PM to midnight or somethin’. But you don’t have to be there the entire time! Just thought it’d be cool to hang out on the weekends for once.”

Seungcheol nods slowly, glancing up at Jeongguk who’s already staring back at him. “I can probably show up for a bit? I need to leave by 10 though, I, uh, sleep early sometimes.” He knows Jeongguk doesn’t buy it, but a smile paints itself onto the younger male’s face in an instant.

“Cool! Wow, didn’t think you’d say yes actually.”

The older male nods, a tight smile on his lips. Your cam schedule was almost always on time; Fridays, Saturdays, every other Monday, and every other Wednesday at 11PM. Sometimes you’d have surprise shows, like before, but you often kept to your schedule unless something important came up. “I know, I get so busy on the weekends, y’know?”

Jun comes back with their waters, setting them down on the table before fishing out a pad and paper to take their orders. “What are you doing on the weekends anyway? I feel like I’ve never asked directly but you never return my calls on Fridays and Saturdays.” Seungcheol freezes mid-order, hands gripping the laminated menu. “Um, and a cherry coke, please, thank you. And I told you ‘Guk, I… I just like to unwind on the weekends, I like to enjoy my quiet time so--so sometimes I just turn my phone off, y’know?.”

Jeongguk puts his order in with Jun who runs their order back before he walks off again. “Is working at the roller rink that bad? I know it can get wild sometimes but… are you thinking about quitting?”

In truth, Seungcheol had thought about it before when he was first starting out at the roller rink. But he also knew it paid too well for him to leave just yet. “Nah, just… it gets loud, y’know? I end up doing jobs around the place that I’m not qualified to do. And with Namjoon-hyung gone still, we’re shorthanded. I thought about picking up another job for some extra cash, but with what time?” Seungcheol grabs his glass of water, lips puckered around the plastic straw as he takes a sip.

“You should cam!”

Water sprays all over the table as Seungcheol sputters, choking on the liquid. “The---what!?” Jun runs over with a stack of pink tissues, helping to wipe up the water as Jeongguk stares from across the table with a wide grin. He waits until Jun leaves again; eyes fixated on Seungcheol and the crimson blush that coats his cheeks and ears. “It’d be easy money for you. You’re not exactly ugly, and you can cover your face!”

“Why exactly are you suggesting that!? Why’d you go straight for that!?” Seungcheol screams under his breath.

“Let’s be real, it’s crossed my mind so it’s probably crossed yours too. You can always just game too, but if you need cash quick y’know… And hey, I have some extra equipment so…” Jeongguk trails off, wiggling his eyebrows at Seungcheol suggestively.

Seungcheol had actually thought about that too. Maybe once or twice.

But after he’d spoken to you and found out just how difficult it really was to keep your viewers engaged and how difficult it was trying to find new ideas to bring to your cam show, he knew it wasn’t as easy as most people thought it’d be. You always put in extra effort in your cam shows and it was a whole production with effort and ideas. Sometimes it took you days to even come up with a theme for a show and sometimes it didn’t do as well as you’d hoped.

“Um, if I ever do, I’ll let you know ‘Guk.”

Saturday comes sooner than Seungcheol knows and he’s antsy. He could barely even enjoy your cam show from the night prior knowing that he had to haul ass back home after Jeongguk’s stream. He plots out the drive home; times it just perfectly so he still has some spare time to relax before your show starts.

For a second, he wonders if it was the right decision or if he should’ve just stayed home like he normally did. But he quickly shakes the thoughts out of his head; glad to get out of his apartment and spend time with his friends on the weekends for once.

He makes it to Jeongguk’s place on time, a box of beer tucked under his arm when he knocks on the door. Shockingly, it’s Yoongi on the other end who greets him; a lopsided smile on his face as he ushers Seungcheol inside. “‘Guk was setting up so…”

“I brought more beer! He said you were spending the night on his sofa so drink all you want, hyung.” Yoongi nods, plopping back down onto the sofa as Seungcheol makes his way towards Jeongguk’s PC room.

The entire room is lined with LEDs, posters of anime and various video games lining all the spaces between the soundproofing pads that Jeongguk haphazardly attached to the wall.

“Yooo, how’s the setup coming?”

“I’m almost ready!”

It takes 20 more minutes of Jeongguk fiddling before he sits in his expensive gaming chair; Seungcheol close behind as he watches the younger male pull up the loading screen. “You’re not drinking, hyung?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, legs crossed as he leans back in the spare desk chair. “Nah, I drove here. Gotta be responsible, kid.” Jeongguk shakes his head, placing his headset and mic on before starting his stream.

“Hey guys! Welcome back to Golden Closet Gaming! I’m doing a PUBG stream tonight and one of my closest friends is here so if you hear him on the mic, that’s definitely not a ghost this time!” A concerned look crosses Seungcheol’s features but he laughs lightly. “Hey guys, I’m Seung---I’m, uh… I’m---SCOUPS!” He blurts out in a hurry; using his gaming username instead.

“And I’m your main player, JK!”

Watching Jeongguk game so seriously is interesting for Seungcheol. They take a break an hour and a half into Jeongguk’s streaming session to get food and drinks; immediately going back to the PC room right after.

But it makes Seungcheol wonder what it was like on your end to always be alone filming in your bedroom to thousands of people in such an intimate setting. For a second, it makes him sad, wondering if you ever felt lonely after your shows were over. Or if you were so tired and could barely take care of yourself.

I would’ve gladly been the one to take care of you after your shows, he thinks.

“Fuck you too, asshole! Get the fuck out!”

Jeongguk’s screaming brings him out of his sad thoughts; a brow raised as he peers at the screen. How the younger male had the energy to game for so long was beyond him sometimes.

“Uhhh anyway comments are asking what I should stream next week? I dunno, give me some ideas? Not the SIMS again though...” Jeongguk mutters. “Oh, j__min said I should play The Last of Us?”

The name has Seungcheol perking up in an instant, leaning over Jeongguk’s shoulder as his eyes dance over the comments.

j__min: bro u were supposed to stream that like 4 streams ago, wtf

seokGENIE: its a good game tho, id be interested in seeing how badly u do

j__min: actually yea me too lmao

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow slightly. Surely it couldn’t be? He thinks. The typing style wasn’t the same at all but the username was, which sent Seungcheol’s mind into a frenzy at the possibility.

But unfortunately for Seungcheol, Jeongguk launches into another match which means he had to wait another time to ask about it. He notes it mentally, making sure to get answers as soon as he can.

10PM comes sooner than Seungcheol expects and he lets Jeongguk know when it’s 9:50PM and while they’re in the middle of a break that he needs to go.

“Damn, where did time go? But okay, hyung! Sorry we didn’t really talk and I just gamed the entire time but maybe next time we can actually do something else? Go out for drinks maybe?” He shoots the older male his best puppy eyes until Seungcheol sighs and gives in, nodding as he fishes for his car keys.

“I’ll see you at work, okay?”

Seungcheol waves at Yoongi still glued to the sofa; a tiny wave of his own as he wishes Seungcheol a safe drive home.

He makes it home at exactly 10:32PM, toeing his shoes off before shucking off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of the sofa. He shuffles to the kitchen and grabs a few beers out of the fridge; already downing two entire bottles before he even makes it to his PC.

The buzz feels good when he sits down, taking a swig of his third bottle as he boots up his computer. In the meantime, he checks his phone, scrolling through apps and deleting notifications.

A text pops up at the top of his phone’s screen.

babygirl 🍒 : see u soon :)

Seungcheol smirks; ego inflated knowing that he was the only one getting that text message.

He checks the clock, 10:56PM, and loads up your profile, simultaneously finishing off his third can of beer since he’d gotten home.

For whatever reason, you’re nervous when you finally sit down in front of your camera setup tonight. You adjust your baby pink lace bra that Seungcheol had gotten you; a cherry blush on your cheeks as the giddiness pours over you.

Checking the clock, you notice it’s already 10:59PM, finger hovering over the ‘rec’ button before pressing it.

It takes a second before the comments already start flooding in; the sound of donations and comments flying across the screen in an instant.

“Whoa~ You guys are so eager tonight, huh? Already so many donations! Thank you!” You shift slightly onto your side, biting your lip. “We’re already so close to the minimum donations for me to start… what’s up with you guys?”

tangerine_kwan: I’m so glad to see u, yesterday was not enough

therealchan99: fuckin talk abt it dude, i almost quit my job im stressed i need to see u princess

dom.cheol has donated $500

dom.cheol: fuck, baby i need to see your pretty lil pussy already i’m so fuckin hard

Your eyes go wide with Seungcheol’s massive donation. He usually waited until you were mid-show or towards the end to donate such huge amounts of money and yesterday he seemed relatively quiet during your show. It threw you off slightly, but you just assumed he might’ve just been going through some things at the time. “Seems like you guys had a rough week, huh?”

xcaliburDK: gOD u dont even know, ur literally my stress relief, beautiful

kitty_junjun: yea i just started working at a new place and its… weird, just glad to be off today

Pouting at the camera, you lean in a little closer. “Hmm, guess I should start then, shouldn’t I~? Since you all seem like you need a ‘lil escape~”

gentleman_josh95 has donated $45

sleepy_wonu has donated $70

sleepy_wonu: please put us out of our misery, baby

You can’t help but giggle, sliding the bra straps down your shoulders before you unhook the material and toss it to the other side of the bed. “This cute setup didn’t last very long this time! Should I upload some pics later to my private room?”

alphagyu97: plz

chwenon: yes yes yes lewds plz

“Okay~” You pause, fingertips hooked onto the sides of your panties. “I actually… wanted to try a new toy…” You murmur, shyness taking over as you slowly slide your already wet panties down your thighs. Sitting back down, you slide them off completely before you place them next to you, glancing at the comments as you cross your ankles.

artist8hao: wait was that…

universe_WZ: i think so

hoshi_tiger_xx: plz plz plz let us seeeeee

dom.cheol has donated $200

dom.cheol: spread your legs, sweetheart. Let daddy see.

You clench your teeth at the arousal that pools in your lower abdomen; shaky legs parting towards the camera. Squirming slightly, the plug that you had eased into your ass shifts, making you mewl at the feeling. You’d tried using your fingers in the past, but by far, the toy was the biggest you’d used yet.

“I--I… I bought this toy m-myself ‘cause I wanted to… wa--wanted to… start learning how to t-take cock in my ass too…”

The way you sit on the bed has the toy fully seated inside of you, toes curling against the bed sheets as your hazy eyes flit to the camera. “I dunno how long I’m gonna last, it feels so good~” You moan, grinding against the sheets underneath you.

angelhan has donated $150

angelhan: i’m begging please, panty stuffing

You bite your lip, eyes dancing over to the lace material sitting next to you. “Hmm~ I don’t think I’ve ever done that on my show before… Should I try it?” You ask cutely, flashing the camera a cheeky smile. The donations pour in like rain; the pinging making your stream lag for a second as it tries to keep up.

dom.cheol has donated $400

tangerine_kwan has donated $100

dom.cheol: fuck, sweetheart lets see you get those panties fucking soaked

universe_WZ has donated $200

“Guess we have our answer?” You laugh airily, reading a few of the comments that were basically begging you to.

Spreading your legs as wide as you can, you maneuver yourself against your pillows; grabbing the lacy material. You quickly adjust the camera with a remote, zooming in until it’s focused on your soaking folds. “Ngh, I’m already so fuckin’ wet… this plug is really making me feel so full~”

dom.cheol: i bet your cute lil ass could barely take my fuckin cock huh

“Mmh, is daddy gonna fuck my ass and make me cum nice and hard?”

yes, yes yes, god yes!

Seungcheol could die right now and be happy.

He wraps a hand around his cock, hips shallowly thrusting up into his closed fist as he watches you run your own fingertips through your wet folds before you sink two of them into your tight pussy. His eyes flutter shut, the image of himself fucking your tight ass as you whine and beg for his cum dancing behind his eyelids.

The alcohol in his body has him on edge even quicker; the grip he has on his cock loosening so he doesn’t cum as quickly.

“A-ah… g--guess it’s time to try this…” You whisper, reaching for the lacy panties. You drag the material up your thigh teasingly, swinging it around your wet fingertips before you place it against your entrance.

You take a deep breath, slowly pushing the panties into your pussy.

tangerine_kwan: oh my god oh my god

alphagyu97: fuck thsts so hot fuck

angelhan: spread your legs more, please god

Your lust filled eyes glance towards the comments, shakily spreading your legs as far as they can go. “O-oh god it--it feels suh--so good…” You mewl, pressing the material further and further into your pussy.

“It’s d-different but… but it’s--it’s--mmh!”

You’re cumming before you know it, toes curling against the sheets as you cum around the toy in your ass and your fingers and panties deep inside your pussy.

Your legs threaten to clamp shut in an instant, which you fight off; the sound of donations and coins clinking flooding your eardrums. “I--fuh--fuck, I--I didn’t know I was gonna c-cum from that!” You let out a breathy laugh, moaning as you continue to push the panties inside of you until the fabric is completely gone from the camera’s view.

chwenon: now will u sell those

hoshi_tiger_xx: please once again i am begging I AM BEGGING

“Aww~ I wish I could… but you guys know my rules~” You pout; body warm and fuzzy after your first, unexpected orgasm. “God, I didn’t… I really didn’t know that’d make me cum so easily~”

dom.cheol: fuck sweetheart, your cute lil cunt cums so fuckin easily

“I know~ I have such a greedy pussy… Always want something filling me up…” You wink at the camera, reaching for a toy that was out of view. “I have another toy~ hehe, tonight is just full of new things, huh?”

You show the toy off to the camera, shifting so that you're on your knees instead. “It looks like a regular dildo right? But it’s full of cum! Not real cum anyway, but cum lube… It’s not the same but it’ll have to do for now~”

therealchan99: oh fuck oh god

sleepy_wonu: aww is the princess gonna let it cum in her cute ass?

artist8hao has donated $75

kitty_junjun has donated $50

dom.cheol: lets see that ass fuckin take all that cock baby

dom.cheol: let it cum in ur pretty lil hole

dom.cheol: fuck

You zoom your camera back out, turning to your side enough so that you could still see your monitor but also still be in frame. “Yeah? Does daddy wanna see how a good girl takes cock in her ass?” Moaning, you reach behind you, fingers on the end of the plug as you slowly pull it out. The stretch makes your back arch slightly; legs trembling when the larger part of the toy finally breaches past the puckered muscle.

The sudden emptiness only makes you reach for the dildo faster, covering it with lube before you place it against your ass. “D’you think I can take it?”

tangerine_kwan: i kno u can baby

sleepy_wonu: yes eys yes

dom.cheol: daddy knows u can, sweetheart

You place the toy at your puckered hole, biting your lip and telling yourself to relax before you slowly start easing it into your ass. “O-oh fuck…” You had made sure the toy was on the smaller size since it was your first time but the stretch of it still had your body tensing up almost immediately.

It takes a long and torturous minute until the toy is fully seated in your ass; body buzzing at the sensation. “G-god it--fuck, it feels even better than the plug~” You whine, maneuvering until you were sitting down on the toy completely.

You let your body adjust to the new feeling for a moment before you’re bouncing on the dildo, loud cries and garbled moans spilling from your lips. The new feeling has you chasing your high insanely fast; tuning out the comments and noises as you focus on your own pleasure.

Your mind can’t help but imagine Seungcheol again; his hands roaming your skin and his deep voice growling filthy praises into your ear as he fucks you from behind. You clench around the toy and the panties still in your pussy, wrecked sobs on your lips at the thought.

Before Seungcheol, you always imagined nameless hands on your body or even resorted to thinking about other videos you’d seen to help get you off. Some days it was harder and some days you were cumming in under five minutes. But now that Seungcheol had a name and face to you, it was impossible for you to imagine anyone else fucking you.

“Shi---it, I--I wanna cum!”

dom.cheol: already? Fuckin greedy lil ass

dom.cheol: cum, sweetheart. Let daddy cum in ur tight ass too

universe_WZ has donated $100

alphagyu97 has donated $75

You alternate from bouncing on the dildo to swiveling your hips; reaching a free hand down to rub circles around your swollen clit. “Already? Can I cum?” You whisper, mind already a puddle of goo now that you were so close.

kitty_junjun: cum

xcaliburDK: cum

chwenon: cum

dom.cheol: you heard them, sweetheart. Cum. Now.

Seungcheol’s grip on his cock tightens after he sends the comment; growls spilling from his lips as he watches you bounce on the toy. His cock throbs in his hold, already feeling himself just as close to his orgasm as you were to yours.

“Fu--fuck I’m cumming! D---daddy!” You cry, slamming yourself down onto the toy as you cum hard. Seungcheol bites his lip to keep in his own screams; streaks of cum landing on his shirt and jeans as he works himself through his own orgasm.

He tries to keep his eyes focused on you in the midst of his orgasm, watching as you squeeze the base of the dildo until the cum inside starts to pour into your ass. “O--oh god!” You mewl, still thrusting the toy into your ass.

Seungcheol’s mouth goes dry when you reach a shaky hand between your legs, fingertips dipping into your pussy and pulling the soaked lace until half of it is in view of the camera. His grip on his cock tightens, moans on his lips when you then slowly start pulling the dildo out of your ass; the fake lube immediately spilling out of your ass and onto the bed sheets and sliding down onto the panties.

universe_WZ: oh my god oh ymg f

xcaliburDK: eyeeeeeee

kitty_junjun: i

You push the fake cum out, soft cries on your lips as the last bits of your orgasm roll through your body. The fake cum feels slightly cold which sends a shiver up your spine as it drips down your legs.

“Mmh… god that---that was intense…” You mumble, upper body slumping against the sheets.

You reach a hand between your legs again, making sure you’re in the camera’s view when you tug on the panties again; this time pulling them all the way out as you groan.

alphagyu97: if ur not selling those can it be a giveaway

alphagyu97: make it a raffle

You toss the soiled fabric to the side, mindful of the puddle of fake cum soaking into the sheets as you readjust your tired self in front of the camera. “You guys really want these, huh?” You laugh, responding to a few other stray comments asking for the soaked material. Your entire body is tingling from all the new sensations, mind going a mile a minute with the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Slumping forward, you thank your viewers again, yawning as you stretch out. “I think I need a bubble bath now~ ‘m so messy!”

hoshi_tiger_xx: we love a messy girl ;)

therealchan99: fuck yea we do

Letting a few more viewers leave donations, you start saying your goodbyes; wishing everyone a good weekend before you blow a kiss to the camera and sign off.

Seungcheol sends one last donation of $550, jaw clenched and cock still throbbing.

He reaches for his phone on instinct, opening your text window. Pausing, he grins. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system but he opens his camera app, flipping it so that it’s on him as he snaps picture after picture of his cum covered torso and his free hand still wrapped around his hard cock.

Smirking, he opens your text window again, thumb dancing across the keyboard with renewed energy.

‘fuck, princess. your fuckin show got me so hard. those panties were fuckin soaking from how much u liked getting ur ass fucked huh? I bet i could get u to cum just from me fuckin your cute lil ass... probably wouldnt even need to touch ur clit or fuck your cunt to get your tight walls cummin for me. but ur a greedy lil thing arent u? probably would still want a toy to keep that pussy nice n sated. fuck, im still hard even tho i already came once.’

He hits send before he thinks twice, quickly attaching a few of his own pictures before he locks his phone and tosses it onto his desk.

Seungcheol’s body is sensitive from his first orgasm still, but his hips thrust up into his closed palm again; head leaning up against the headrest as he lets out harsh breaths. His eyes flutter shut, eyelashes tickling his skin.

This time his imagination runs wild; hands tangled in your hair while he tugs on it, forcing your back straight against his chest as he fucks into you hard and fast. He imagines your sweet voice begging him to let you cum, walls tight around his cock when you fall apart on it.

“Fuck!” He cums hard, body rigid as his free hand digs into the armrest and the air is knocked out of his lungs.

Seungcheol vaguely hears his phone pinging in the background; mind hazy as the waves of his orgasm wash over his body.

When he starts to come down, he slumps against the chair, sleepiness already taking over with his two orgasms and the alcohol still in his system. He mentally makes a note to get rid of his soiled clothes another time, tiredly reaching for his phone.

He stares at it through his blurry vision, barely making out your name before he blinks the tiredness away enough to read your message.

babygirl 🍒: hehe~ does daddy want my panties then? i’ll gladly give them to u if u want them~ 😚

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

542 notes · View notes

fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Note

Pining/romanced companions react to a sole who got stuck in the oddest place in the most awkward position + helping them out but it involves some awkward touching and positioning! (Ps i love reading your blog, always makes my day 😁❤)

(Thank you so much for your patience, lovely!)

Cait:

"Ha! Oh wait, I'm sorry- I shouldn't laugh atcha. Don't give me that look, I'll get you out- just...wish I had me one of those working cameras."

Her automatic way of deflecting her awkward feelings was by trying to use humor.

Despite that, she is honestly pretty chill with the situation. Cait herself has very little shame, so the very most she would feel is discomfort in fear of overstepping some of your bounds with the way she has to touch you.

Curie:

"Sacrebleu! Are you alright? Can you still move all of your limbs..? Just, remain calm madam/monsieur, I'll go get help!"

Her first priority is to make sure that you can safely be released- not even once thinking of the inevitable.

She of course is aware of her feelings towards you, being practically slammed with them each and every time you smile at her. However that feeling of pining doesn't interfere with her ability to ensure your well being. All feelings put aside, she will not rest until she has you out.

Danse:

"....*curses under his breath*...Don't worry soldier, I'll have you out in no time."

Wouldn't it have been nicer just to have shot him in the foot? Danse surely thought so. Once he assessed you and found that you were physically okay, his gut would clench up with nerves- having realized what his next step would be.

It was so silly, he was a grown man- a Paladin for Pete's sake, and he was reluctant to grasp you in such a way just because of his feelings for you. For this, he would later ridicule himself.

He's absolutely dead whenever he realizes that at one point he has to stand directly in front of you to free you, inadvertently putting your face close to his crotch. Yes, his souls just completely leaves his body after that.

Deacon:

"Shit, well- let me go get the oil and we'll see what we can do."

No. Just no.

Deacon doesn't like being touched himself, so holding you in such a light as well combined with his general discomfort for human contact leaves him in a very tough predicament.

He isn't kidding. He will go get the oil goddamnit.

Gage:

"Woah, must be my lucky day! That's quite the nice view you're providin' boss. Hey, I'm just joking.."

He's not.

Gage knows better than to overstep his bounds..but he also knows when a glorious opportunity presents itself.

If only for a moment, he will unashamedly take in the view before -quite terribly- attempting to force you out of whatever you are stuck on.

Hancock:

"Well well, this sure is one heck of a pickle you've gotten yourself stuck in...heh, not funny? Too soon? Well never mind that then, sit tight."

Hancock? Uncomfortable with touching someone? Please.. Okay, maybe he is a little nervous about doing it to you, but that doesn't mean he is going to show it one little bit.

He'll play it cool, get you free in no time.

Macready:

"Hey boss...you do know that this wasn't a part of the route, right? I'm just joking, sheesh. Relax, I'll um, well, I'll try.."

Does he seem like he's doing good? Because internally? He's a hot mess.

Macready is pretty immature, so the mere thought of having to touch you mad position you in suggestive ways makes him both chuckle and blush like an idiot. Had you been anyone else, he probably just would've said "tough luck."

Maxson:

"Fuck.."

He didn't even mean to say something so brash, it being "unbecoming" of someone in his position to do so. In his defense, he couldn't think straight after seeing you in such a compromising position- his mind torn between thinking of how screwed you both were if you were ambushed..and how he'd have to pull you out of your position by some rather unfavorable means. Well...he wouldn't mind them too much.

Nonetheless, Arthur ends up fumbling terribly and making a fool out of himself more than he already had.

Nick:

"Dear heavens, okay kiddo, I need you to stay calm and still.."

Those feelings he harbors for you play no device in this. All he knows is that he needs to get you free.

Old Longfellow:

"Now how in the blazes did you wind up like that? No wonder you were taking so long cap'n, heh, I'm just pulling your leg.....literally."

Gets a kick out of it, not even thinking about the fact that he was actually going to have to maneuver you around-

However he is no child, he's touched plenty of ladies/men in his lifetime. But..feelings do complicate things, don't they?

Piper:

"For the love of everything good.."

She's totally cursing herself at this point, only to look down and blush when she realizes you thought she was making a remark towards your current predicament. Afterwards she'd make a huge deal about telling you that isn't at all what she meant and how sorry she was...rambling so much that you current position is lost on her until you give an irate "ahem".

Preston:

"Oh damn, um, just let me know...*starts trailing off* if I need to stop..."

Oh god, oh fuck..why did he just say that?!?!

He instantly is reduced to a bumbling mess. His usual smooth charisma being reduced down to the equivalent of a super mutant's.

Please have mercy on him. He might even make himself get stuck too..

Sturges:

"Shucks, uhhh- dontcha worry one bit, I'll get ya out of there."

He doesn't know whether to think himself lucky or cursed.

He's had his fair share of being stuck himself, so he at least knows how to move you around just in case that was an issue. That being said, he can't get the vision of your forced position out of his head no matter how hard he might try.

X6-88:

"How do you even manage to do these kinds of things? Never mind that ma'am/sir, remain as still as possible."

By nature, X6 is unreadable. His emotions hardly ever seem to surface, this predicament brings forth no exceptions.

Even if on the inside he is doing a little victory dance.

117 notes · View notes

i-am-totally-a-human-being · 3 years

Text

Danganronpa V4: A New Ending

Chapter 1: Part 2

<—previous part_____next part—>

Your story continues under the cut

There he was. Once again.

Following me.

He never stopped following me, he was like a lost puppy who dubbed me as his owner. It was annoying, and frankly, creepy.

I knew the rumors, I knew who he was. And, although I hated to admit it, I was both frightened and intrigued.

The Ultimate 尺̵̡̰̠̳͚̤̪̯̘̖͇͍̭̩͊̿͒͌̑͐乇̴̢̗̭̺̯͇̗̍̏́̋́͗͆̅̀̀̎͂̇̿̈́̉̔͋̇̈́̌̔̓͐̂͋̑̉̈̑͗̀̌̕͝͝͝ᗪ̷͍̺͓̤̤͆̂̀̎̓͒̑͊̈́̎̒̊̒̊͂̾̓̓̔̚͜卂̸̨̛̲̦̙̣̹̰̗̣͔͙͆̽̃̑̀͋̉̃̒́̃̒̿̉̿͛̕͜͜͠ͅͅ匚̴̢̡͈̟̗̞̮̖̬̃̑̋́̍́̿͑̅̅̓͗̊̔̀͘͘͝ㄒ̴̡̢̢̢̢̙̠͓̥̻̘̪͎̺͉̙̯̼̲̻̘̩̲̀͗͌͑̿̃̋͆̎̓̊̅̾̌͊̊͗̈̈́̆̈̇̽̒̒̆͊̋͛̚̕̕̚͠͠͠͠乇̶̛̛̹̿͋̏̔̇͊͛͗̈́̀̅̂̊̕ᗪ̷̢̬͈̮̲̭͚̦͎̜͇͓̣͍̞̮̎̌͌̂̓̌̀́̑͗̐͑͛́͛͋̃̑̈́̽͆̾̚̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͝ ̸̨̢̧̥̯͗̌̂̔̃̋̊̕?

A terrifying yet interesting Ultimate, to say the least. Still, no matter how interesting he was to me, it scared me that I seemed to be his newest target.

But… he wouldn’t do anything with the school cameras… right?

Taking a deep breath to gather what little confidence I actually had in myself, I spun around to face him. He looked back at me with a blank stare, just like he always did.

“If you’re the Ultimate 尺̵̡̰̠̳͚̤̪̯̘̖͇͍̭̩͊̿͒͌̑͐乇̴̢̗̭̺̯͇̗̍̏́̋́͗͆̅̀̀̎͂̇̿̈́̉̔͋̇̈́̌̔̓͐̂͋̑̉̈̑͗̀̌̕͝͝͝ᗪ̷͍̺͓̤̤͆̂̀̎̓͒̑͊̈́̎̒̊̒̊͂̾̓̓̔̚͜卂̸̨̛̲̦̙̣̹̰̗̣͔͙͆̽̃̑̀͋̉̃̒́̃̒̿̉̿͛̕͜͜͠ͅͅ匚̴̢̡͈̟̗̞̮̖̬̃̑̋́̍́̿͑̅̅̓͗̊̔̀͘͘͝ㄒ̴̡̢̢̢̢̙̠͓̥̻̘̪͎̺͉̙̯̼̲̻̘̩̲̀͗͌͑̿̃̋͆̎̓̊̅̾̌͊̊͗̈̈́̆̈̇̽̒̒̆͊̋͛̚̕̕̚͠͠͠͠乇̶̛̛̹̿͋̏̔̇͊͛͗̈́̀̅̂̊̕ᗪ̷̢̬͈̮̲̭͚̦͎̜͇͓̣͍̞̮̎̌͌̂̓̌̀́̑͗̐͑͛́͛͋̃̑̈́̽͆̾̚̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͝ ̸̨̢̧̥̯͗̌̂̔̃̋̊̕, then you can tell I’m pissed, yeah?!”

“…yes.”

“Then you know why I’m pissed! So,” I swallowed, hoping my nerves wouldn’t get the better of me as I stomped over to him, “take the hint and quit being so weird!!”

“…..” he made no facial expression, no movement, nothing, to indicate how he felt for my remarks. I grunted in frustration, turning around and walking to the library. I went there every day after class, and he always came with and sat across from me. I could only hope that he’d catch the hint after I told him off.

He didn’t.

I heard the footsteps start following again almost immediately, him keeping a bit of distance as always. I was hoping he’d take the hint, but clearly that didn’t happen. I huffed, spinning around again and clenching my fists.

“And stop following me!!!”

~~~~~

“Hey there, you ok?” I opened my eyes to see a boy standing over me, bright green hair shaping his face.

“....Where’s… Hajime? Is he ok?”

“Hajime? You mean this guy?” He helped me sit up, pointing to Hajime unconscious beside me.

“H-Hajime! Is he alright?!”

“He’s ok, I was gonna wake him up after I brought you to your senses,” he helped me stand, “my name is Rantaro Amami. You?”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N. Are you a freshman too?”

“You know it. Come on, help me pick him up.” I nodded and helped Rantaro position Hajime over his shoulder, following him down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“To the home room class. It’s where everyone else is.”

“Everyone else? So there’s others!”

“Yeah. Not counting us three here, there’s 13.”

“So enough for one class. Interesting.”

“So what’s your ultimate?”

“Ultimate Forensic Scientist. You?”

“Ultimate Adventurer. So you process crime scenes, yeah?”

“That is my strong suit, yes. Until we figure out where we are and why, I’m going to treat this whole island like one.”

“Smart. Well, in case you were wondering, none of us know why we're here either.”

“I assume you and the others have already gotten acquainted?”

“Yep. We heard the front door opening open since a little alarm plays when it does, so they sent me to investigate. Then I found you two. Why were you passed out, by the way?”

“Not sure. We walked through the door, and I woke up to you.” It wasn’t… the worst face to wake up to, if I was being honest with myself. He was rather attractive, giving off a bit of a… playboy vibe in a way.

“That’s odd. None of us had that kind of experience,” we stopped outside a door, him turning to look at me, “We’ve got an Ultimate Nurse here, so she’ll be able to check up on our friend here, and you as well. That way we can make sure you two are alright.”

“I’m perfectly healthy, thank you.”

“You were unconscious.”

“So was Hajime.”

“Exactly,” he smiled, “so you both are gonna get checked out.” It was no use arguing with him. I sighed in defeat, nodding and looking forward.

“So everyone is in there?”

“Yep.”

“Ok… let’s go.”

“Hey, two more- uh… is he ok?” A short boy with light brown hair paused after seeing Hajime on Rantaro’s shoulders.

“O-Oh dear!! I-Is he alright?!” A girl with unevenly cut dark purple hair ran over, tripping in the process and ending up in a…. Revealing position to say the least.

I quickly averted my eyes as a few others went to help her up. Rantaro looked at me, smiling.

“That’s our Ultimate Nurse, Mikan Tsumiki.”

“Her,” I whispered, questioning him, “she just-“

“Yeah. She’s… clumsy, to say the least.”

“I-I-I’m so sorry!! Please f-forgive me!!” She cried out as she was helped to her feet, carefully walking over and grabbing Hajime’s limp wrist, “h-he’s alive! How d-did he…?”

“We woke up together on the beach,” I turned to her, relieved to hear that an Ultimate Nurse said he was ok, “we made our way to the building, and both went unconscious the second we walked through the door.”

“Interesting,” a girl with short black hair nodded, “so I assume you have no idea what is happening, like the rest of us?”

“Right,” I nodded, “I’m Y/N L/N, by the way. The Ultimate Forensic Scientist. This is Hajime Hinata, he has amnesia and can’t remember his ultimate.”

“Interesting,” a tall boy with blonde hair looked at him, “Or perhaps, he has a dangerous ultimate and does not want us to know.” I immediately shook my head, shutting down his accusations.

“Hajime is no killer or anything dangerous.”

“And you know this… how? Is he your boooooyfrieeeend??” A short boy with messy purple hair laughed, but I was very much not amused.

“Are you a child?”

“Wha- What is that suppose to mean?!”

“It means I asked if you’re a child. Because you look and act like one.”

“….You really dare say that to Kokichi Ouma, The Ultimate Supreme Leader?!”

“Your Ultimate and name does not answer my question.”

“….YOU’RE SO MEAN!!” He burst into tears, making me jump and step back. What on earth…

“Don’t cry, Kokichi,” a tall boy looked at him, “Gonta know! Gonta find you bug to cheer you up!!”

“I don’t want I stupid bug, Gonta!! I want Y/N to apologize!!” He kept crying, everyone in the room looking miserable.

I made brief eye contact with a boy who’s hat covered one eye, who gave me a look of “it’ll be better for all of us if you just say sorry.”

“Ok,” I sighed, “I’m sorry, Kokichi.”

“Alright,” the tears immediately stopped, “I feel a lot better now.”

“What…” I sighed, looking around the room once more. There were still so many people I hadn’t formally met yet… I wasn’t a fan of meeting new people….

Introductions could wait. I wanted to avoid them as long as I could, so I followed Mikan and Rantaro to the infirmary to check on Hajime.

“H-He has no u-underlying me-medical issues,” she looked at us as she took his blood pressure, “w-we should be able to wake him u-up with no issue.”

“Thank you, Mikan,” I smiled at her, “I’m glad you’re here to help out.”

“O-Of course, hehe!!” She giggled to herself as she stepped back for me to see Hajime better.

“You said I can wake him up?”

“Yes, h-he should wake up if you try to.”

“Right. Thanks,” I grabbed his shoulder and shook him lightly, “Hajime? You there?”

“Hnng,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering open, “Y/N? Where… Where are we?!” He sat up the second he saw Rantaro and Mikan, looking at me in confusion.

“Rantaro Amami,” Rantaro extended his hand, “I found you two after you passed out. She made sure you were ok.” He nodded to Mikan.

“M-My name is… M-Mikan Tsumiki. I-It’s nice to meet you!” She smiled, waving.

“…..we passed out?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “There’s other students, waiting for us to come back. Can you walk?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I think so,” he stood, rubbing his head, “gosh… everything hurts.”

“I-I can get you some pain killers!” Mikan offered, but Hajime shook his head.

“Not sure I want to take anything from this place until I learn what it actually is and why we’re here. Thank you, though.”

“I-I understand!!”

We made our way back to the classroom, Rantaro and Mikan walking ahead with me and Hajime trailing behind.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you’re good at reading into crime scenes, yeah?”

“I… guess so, yes.”

“Think you can read them,” he nodded to the pair walking in front of us, “Do you think they’re safe?”

“Well Rantaro found us unconscious and didn’t do anything but help wake us up, and Mikan seemed really worried about you before even knowing who you were. So yes, I think they’re safe.”

“Sorry… that was a stupid question.”

“No, it wasn’t. We don’t know these people, it’s smart to be cautious.”

We got to the classroom again, Hajime pausing before going in. Rantaro turned to him.

“You alright?”

“Y-Yeah… I just,” he sighed, “I’m not sure why I just… I’m really nervous about meeting ultimates.”

“Why? You are one, aren’t you?”

“I mean… I’ve got to be, right? So why am I so… nervous?”

“It’ll be ok,” I smiled, putting my hand on his shoulder, “I’ll be here.”

“Right… thank you.”

Sixteen students remain

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #x reader #goodbye despair #hajime hinata #hajime hinata x reader #hajime x reader #hinata x reader #hajime x y/n #Danganronpa v4

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cellard0ors · 3 years

Text

Fic: Movement (5/5)

YAS.

I got it done.

My pornstar!Rhett and College!Student!Link fic is DONE.

...it was supposed to be a short ficlet thing (hahahahahaha - cries) Still, it's done - so I hope you enjoy it @peachworthy! It was all for you!

If you want to read the previous part on tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You can read it ALL here on AO3 Link!

Dating a porn star is not what Link expected.

Not that Link ever expected to be dating a porn star, but the point remains – dating one is not like he thinks one would envision it. To be fair, this is probably because he’s not just dating any porn star, he’s dating Rhett and Rhett is far more to him than just a porn star. In fact, he was his roommate and secret crush long before Link even recognized him by his profession.

But now, having watched one of Rhett’s films, seeing him in action (full porno sex action), Link can confirm that that is indeed what he is. But that doesn’t really matter to Link. Nothing does, but how sweet Rhett is. How doting and romantic and kind of the best boyfriend anyone could ever have and it sort of boggles the mind that he is Link’s boyfriend.

But he is and their relationship is moving along quite amicably. Nights spent watching movies together, going grocery shopping, sharing chaste kisses and the occasionally more heated ones and it’s not all that different from how it was when they were just friends minus the addition of said kissing.

However, it’s more than a few weeks in, and it’s clear to Link that sex is an issue. Or not so much an issue as a nonentity. Neither of them have pushed farther than the classic over-the-clothes action and Link isn’t sure if it’s him or Rhett or both and it finally reaches a point where one of them has to speak up, so he decides to brave the field, “So, um, Rhett?”

“Yeah?” Rhett asks and he’s a little distracted, making dinner for them as he is. Still, Link sees no reason why this discussion can’t be casual, so he shoots for that as he asks, “You…? Ah, you think we’re ever gonna-? Gonna, um, have sex?”

The last comes out so horribly awkward and Link is rubbing at the back of his neck and somehow feeling like a heel in all of this. But communication is important in a relationship and he figures it’s better to speak now then forever hold his peace or whatever. Rhett looks up from the skillet he’s working over, eyebrows raised high, “Why? You don’t want to?”

“No!” Link rejoints quickly, “No, I definitely want to! I just…? I noticed we, uh…haven’t? Yet? So, I-I wasn’t sure-?”

So, you want to talk about it, but you can’t string anything coherent together? His thoughts hiss, but Rhett seems understanding as he removes the skillet from the heat and clicks off the stove. While their food cools, he carefully removes his oven mitts and shrugs, “Well, I mean…I’ll confess, I’m a little…apprehensive to kick things off.”

Link perks up at this and Rhett shoots him a lopsided grin, “Mean, you’ve seen one of my films now. Before you, when I’d get in a relationship, when people found out about what I did – I guess you could say they broke down into two types. First type expected me to be some god of carnality, y’know? Like, the best bang they’d ever have in their lives.”

He runs a hand through his thick hair, tossing it, which Link now recognizes as a nervous tic on his part, “And it’s not really like that. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m a good lover. I don’t see myself as horrible in bed or anything, but what I’ve found is that a lot of those types of partners had these overblown expectations of me. Like I’d get them off in a second or that I’d ruin them for others or, I dunno, give ‘em orgasms every five seconds and I-?”

Rhett trails off, looking at a loss for words, but Link gets it, “They couldn’t sperate the fantasy from the reality.”

He gets a snap of fingers at that, Rhett looking pleased, “Exactly! Even though people say they understand that porn is fake and that a lot of it is exaggerated, for some reason, if they’re with a person who does it for a living, they expect something…I don’t know, revolutionary.”

Link nods and Rhett starts plating up their food, avoiding Link’s eyes as he speaks, “And I guess I just-? I don’t want you to be one of those types of people.”

Link’s heart stings a little at the thought – or more, at the idea that Rhett had had that thought. Rhett takes the plates towards their kitchen table, eyes still downcast and cheeks clearly red as he murmurs, “I don’t think you are. Truth be told, I know you’re better than that. But…I really like you, Link. And I don’t want to lose you because-!”

Link takes the plates from Rhett and sets them down, he then tips Rhett’s face up by his chin and kisses him tenderly, looking into his eyes as he speaks, “You won’t.”

Rhett doesn’t look convinced, so Link kisses him again, then wraps his arms around his neck, tugging him close, “You said there were two types?”

“Ahhhh, yeeaaah,” Rhett draws out, looking at little sheepish even as his arms settle around Link’s waist, “The other type is the one I’ll admit I’m a bit more worried you might fall into.”

Link’s eyebrows rise, asking for him to continue more than words can. Rhett does; but resumes not looking at him while he does so, “The other type are…intimidated.”

Link lets out a snort that speaks volumes, clearly saying there’s no way Rhett ‘intimidates’ him but that doesn’t stop him, “No, seriously – they think because of what I do, how many films I’ve made and how many partners I’ve worked with, that I’ll be hard to please or that they’ve got to do something extraordinary to stand out.”

“Well, I mean…I’m already extraordinary, so-?” Link teases and Rhett rolls his eyes, starting to edge away, but Link lets out a little abortive ‘Hey!’ before dragging him back over and kissing him. This time they kiss for a while, Rhett’s fingers hooking into the beltloops of Link’s jeans and dragging him closer. It’s right on that edge of sweet and sexy and, after a while, Link manages to draw in a rather audible breath, enough to murmur, “No, I get what you’re sayin’…”

Link puts space between them, knowing that now’s not the time to just jump into bed considering Rhett’s concerns. Especially in light of their legitimacy, which he confirms as he takes his seat at the table, “Look, I’ve thought about all of that. Everything you’ve worried about or your old flames thought, I’ve run ‘em through my noggin and I gotta say, all of it did trip me up. At first. But then, I had an epiphany!”

“Really?” Rhett asks with a very incredulous tone as he takes his own seat. Link’s already started digging into his meal, looking smug even as he answers with an agreeable, muffled hum – mouth full of food. Once swallowed, he grins and gestures at Rhett with his fork, “And my thought was, we just gotta get on an even playing field.”

Rhett looks a little stumped by that, blinking rapidly, “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Link says cheekily, “We’re making a movie.”

“You…sure about this?” Rhett looks at the Go-Pro set up in front of his bed with a mixture of uncertainty and dread. Link doesn’t mind the first, but is bothered by the second, even as he adjusts the camera, “Absolutely.”

“I don’t know, man…”

Link looks through the view finder. The lightning is just right, but he adjusts the angle some. He wants to make sure he gets a good, wide shot of the bedroom – especially the bed. That’s where the magic is going to happen. Just thinking of it, a whole maelstrom of butterflies churn through his central nervous system. Still, he’s nothing if not determined.

Some would call it stubborn. He prefers determined.

Regardless, Link looks to Rhett, “Look, this is just for us. Alright? Nobody gets to see this lil’ gem but you and me. It’s,” he looks into the distance, thoughtful, “It’s a Link and Rhett production!”

This gets a laugh, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Considering my extensive filmography, shouldn’t I be the headliner? Shouldn’t it be a Rhett and Link production?”

The name flip causes Link to make a face and drags another chuckle out of Rhett, “Take it you can’t handle that?”

“Well…I am the one in school studying film…”

“Okay, but I’m the star attraction here.”

“Are you?” Link asks with a devilish grin, even as he goes about adjusting various throw pillows and things, as if to perfectly set the scene for what is about to take place, “How do you know I won’t upstage you?”

The sound of disbelief that emerges from Rhett causes Link to make another face, “Seriously. You haven’t had all of this yet,” he gestures to his whole body, “Might just be I’m the one that ruins you for anyone else. That I just-! Just blow your mind so much sexually that you can’t get enough of me!”

Rhett is all smiles, enjoying Link’s boastful side more than he probably should. But it’s hard not to. It’s so endearing and, oddly, attractive and Link knows it as he claps his hands together and a couple ‘alright’s’ leave him in rapid, nervous succession because, well, it’s showtime.

And showtime means sex time.

Sex time…with Rhett.

Link is going to have sex with him and okay, okay, okay…

“You alright, buddy?” Rhett asks seriously and Link realizes his ‘alright’s’ have switched over to nervous ‘okay’s’ and he’s sort of a rambling, shaky mess. He looks at Rhett and oh gosh, the man is too attractive by half. Link needs to get back in charge of this situation. As such, he draws in a deep breath through his nose and nods to himself, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?’ Rhett returns softly, looking worried as he speculatively eyes the camera and then the bed again, ‘Cause I remember my first time filming and I was a mess.”

This draws Link’s attention, “Yeah?”

Rhett nods, “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, yeah, sex is pretty matter of fact, but knowing how to go about it and with a bunch of people watching…”

“Okay, but,” Link walks over to Rhett and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, before taking one of his hands and giving it a squeeze, “No one’s watching but you and me.”

“True,” Rhett confirms softly, “But that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous.”

“Are you?” Link asks and Rhett grins, “What? Nervous?”

At Link’s nod Rhett laughs, squeezing Link’s hand back, “You bet your sweet bippy I am!”

“Great! Then we’re on the same page!” Link beams and then draws back his hand and goes over towards the dresser, grabbing a folder he brought with him when he brought in his filming set up, “Speaking of pages…”

He draws out one and Rhett looks over it before letting out a loud boom of laughter, “You wrote a script?!”

Link shrugs, “Just a couple of words…”

“I see,” Rhett giggles and flips through it, reading quick snippets of the ridiculous prose, “And you said ‘Movement’ had bad dialogue.”

“What’s wrong with the dialogue?” Link asks with distinct affront and Rhett waves the pages at him, as he coos dramatically, “‘Ohhh Daddy Link, you’re so big’?”

Link snatches back the pages and tosses them to the side, “You just wait!”

“Uh huh,” Rhett is still giggling but Link looks serious, “You’ll be saying that and more!”

“Oh, I will?” Rhett wheezes and he wasn’t aware this was going to be so much fun. To be honest, neither was Link, who looks a little sheepish even as he reaches for Rhett, “C’mere…”

Rhett does and they kiss for a while. Nice, warm, comfortable kisses until Link sneaks in just the slightest nip of teeth along Rhett’s bottom lip. The tiny sting draws Rhett up short, makes his breath catch and Link draws back to look at him, blue eyes heavy lidded as he hums, “I’m gonna push record now.”

Rhett can only manage a nod and Link pushes a button on the Go Pro. They resume kissing and Rhett can’t help but let out a whimper as Link…pushes him backwards. The push isn’t terribly forceful, but it’s enough that Rhett finds himself backing up towards the bed. He feels the tap of the mattress against the back of his knees and at Link’s next nudge, he falls back against it.

Link clambers over top of him and their lips have hardly broken contact the entire time. Link’s frame is slighter than Rhett’s, but not any less substantial, and Rhett groans, finding he rather likes it beneath the other man. More so when Link leverages himself up a little…higher. Somehow Rhett finds he feels…small. Something he’s never really ever felt before and the sensation shoots straight to his dick, more so when Link husks, “You ready to learn a new form?”

That was actually something Rhett remembers seeing in the script Link wrote. It was a haphazard line tossed in amongst the sillier remarks he’d picked out, but hearing it now, he shudders, “I…?”

“C’mon,” Link whispers against his neck, which he peppers with little sucking kisses, “Gotta master some other…movements…”

The last is said with a level of severity that Link’s surprised he manages, but also – hearing it – he can’t help but laugh at himself. Okay, so, his dialogue isn’t all that great. To be fair, he wrote it more for fun than anything.

And as kind of a segue into how Rhett should be prepared for him, not the other way around. Link supposes it was his approach to avoiding nerves – an air of bravado that would sustain him through any potential worries.

After all, Rhett’s not wrong. Rhett is experienced, he’s done a lot – in comparison, Link’s sexual history is dismal. Still, Link’s sure he can provide something the previous lovers didn’t and he, heart in his throat, asks, “Tell me, baby…you ever bottom?”

It was, in fact, a question he asked in his script but, also, one Link wanted to ask for real. Considering his stature, Link’s pretty sure Rhett hasn’t. And with Rhett’s answering groan of desire, the question is confirmed, albeit the core of it still unanswered. Link whispers, “…you want to?”

“Fuck,” Rhett manages in such a breathy way that Link feels his balls tighten, more so when he can feel Rhett’s whole body nod beneath him, “Yeah…”

“You want to?” Link asks again, wanting Rhett to be absolutely clear about what he’s agreeing to, even as Rhett’s head starts rapidly bobbing more and more, “Yes, yes…yes, I want to, Link.”

“Link?” he asks and it’s a clear tease, one met with Rhett groaning again, this time not from pleasure, so much as amused aggravation, “I’m not calling you Daddy, Link.”

“Mmm, not yet,” Link purrs into his chest even as he eases up enough to draw Rhett’s shirt up and over his head. Rhett, not to be outdone, grabs the bottom hem of Link’s shirt and, working together, the two ease it up and over Link’s head. Now shirtless, the two resume kissing and moving against one another, hips lewdly grinding even with their jeans on and Link absent mindedly wishes they’d worn something simpler to remove.

But the feeling of his denim clad erection rubbing roughly against Rhett’s does create a magnificent friction that draws a curse from him, his skin breaking out in a light sheen of sweat as they continue undulating. Rhett’s fingers, which had once more gripped to Link’s belt loops, now dive beneath the back of his waistband, dipping beneath his underwear and gripping his ass firmly and Link grunts his name approvingly.

If Link learned one thing from watching Rhett in that film, it’s that the man has amazing hands. Big palms, long fingers, and Jesus – his grip. He’s latched on and breathing heavily and the sounds of those pants in Link’s ear is better than any music he’s ever heard.

Another thing he learned from the film – cheesy music is not needed. Just the sounds of two people together, seeking pleasure, is more than enough to get the fires going. Although frankly, Link was on fire the moment his lips met Rhett’s. And it’s a fire that only stokes higher as he eases up, pulls back and Rhett goes with him.

Link’s legs are on either side of Rhett’s, practically putting him in Rhett’s lap and Rhett curls up, his mouth aimed at Link’s dusky nipples. He claims first the left, then the right, licking and nibbling at the sensitive tips and Link’s head falls back, Adam’s apple bobbing on a low groan because, yes.

He’s always had such a sensitive chest. It was a source of embarrassment for him once. That his nipples were such an erogenous zone. But now, with Rhett feasting there, he’s more than okay with it. Okay with Rhett’s hands having left his ass to grip at his bare back, to hold him still while he feasts on his chest.

Rhett’s teeth scratching through swaths of chest hair with abandon as they trail down as far as they can go before arching back up, searching out Link’s mouth and Link kisses him again, his hands tangling in the back of Rhett’s long hair, fingers ensnaring themselves deep within the mass of curls and tugging just so. Rhett whimpers at it, hips jutting upwards and Link feels himself bounce some, smirks into their kiss as he murmurs, “Tryin’ ta take me for a ride?”

His accent comes out thick, a sweet southern drawl and Rhett’s eyes are glossy green as he puts up again and Link’s own hips answer – a dirty dance beginning as they rock against one another. And while the simulation of the actual sex act is pleasing enough it’s just – not the real thing and that’s what Link wants.

He wants it, but not like this – not this time and he lets out a whine even as he forces himself up and off, forces himself to pull away and stand – his hands shaking as they remove his jeans. And while Rhett is still lying there on the bed – looking like some kind of sexual Adonis – Link can just make out the slightest sliver of insecurity in his eyes.

It hides well beneath the open lust, but it’s there. And even though he’s clad only in his underwear – a rather funny sight no doubt, given the way his stiff cock is making the material curve outwards – he asks gently, “You okay?”

Rhett nods and starts working off his own jeans and underwear, even as he breathes, “Just…look at you.”

“Me?” Link laughs lightly and Rhett nods, sitting up enough to pulls everything off. Once his cumbersome clothing is removed, he looks to Link again, his gaze full of wonder, “Yeah. I mean…you’re just-?”

Rhett licks his lips and swallows, his eyes darting away for a moment as he whispers, “You’re so…pretty.”

“Aw, shucks,” Link waves a hand before going to take his underwear off, “Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“I don’t,” Rhett intones with such severity that Link’s hands freeze on the elastic waistband of his underwear. Rhett’s looking at him now. Staring at him and Link feels all the tiny hairs on his body stand on end as Rhett speaks, “You’re…you’re beautiful, Link.”

Am I? Link wants to ask; but feels ridiculous at the prospect. He toys with repeating the sentiment – because (of course) Rhett is beautiful too. But there’s something about the way Rhett said it, about the way he’s looking at him, that keeps Link’s mouth closed. Keeps it closed as he finally removes his underwear and somehow that’s what breaks the serious tension between them, Rhett’s eyes going wide, “Oh.”

“What?” Link asks and he looks down and then back up again, confused.

“That’s…” Rhett runs a hand over his jaw, “That’s…a big dick.”

The shocked, delighted laugh that breaks out of Link is surprisingly loud but Rhett just sits up more, grinning, “No, I’m serious, man. You could make a lotta money in the biz with that thing.”

“I could?”

“Yeah. Big market in the big dick department.”

“…so what I wrote in the script was accurate?” Link waggles his eyebrows, shooting him a gloating look even as Rhett sighs in defeat, “Well-? Yeah? Yeah, I guess so…”

Link lets out a little ‘woo hoo!’ and it’s hard for Rhett not to chuck a pillow at him and call this whole thing off. Not that he ever would, smiling as he is. Smiling and chewing on his bottom lip as words rumble out from deep within his chest, “But do you know how to use it?”

Link goes over towards the nearby dresser and, far more smoothly than he even imagined, he draws out a tiny bottle of lube. He quickly coats one hand before tossing the bottle near Rhett and, making sure to keep eye contact, he takes a good grip on himself. His words come out in a pleasured hiss as he strokes himself, his length growing wet and slick, “You’re about to find out.”

The visible shudder that moves though Rhett makes Link have to tighten his hold, because it wouldn’t do to cum from just that. It’s hard though. Not to lose himself at the mere sight of Rhett’s sheer arousal. Still, he manages as his eyelids grow heavy, his voice thick with emotion as he murmurs, “Go one then, Rhett. Get ready.”

“…ready?”

Link nods and his chin juts towards the direction where he tossed the lube, the tiny bottle resting against Rhett’s left hipbone, “Ready for Daddy’s big dick.”

A strangled sound erupts from Rhett and Link knows it’s not a laugh. It’s something much more lascivious as Rhett takes the bottle and begins to coat his fingers. He lies back and parts his legs and Link just keeps talking, “That’s it. That’s a good boy. Draw your knees up…”

“Fuck, Link…” Rhett openly moans and does as instructed. He pulls his knees up and it makes himself more compact, smaller, and he arches his hips, makes sure to put himself on full display as his fingers drop to his entrance. He eases one finger in past the tight ring of muscle, then another, and Link keeps speaking, even as he continues to jack himself (the sound of his hand on his flesh bordering on obscene) as he speaks, “That’s it. Get yourself nice and open for me.”

“Link…”

“You’re so tiny, baby. Gotta make room for me.”

The tight mewl of pleasure that leaves Rhett at that, the way his hard cock stirs against his belly, the wet tip smearing the skin there as he does as Link asks, makes it difficult for Link to continue. He’s panting now and there’s not enough air and he needs to get in. He needs to take Rhett before he loses himself to all the sensory stimulation going on around him.

He kneels on the bed, making the mattress dip and Rhett’s fingers lose their rhythm. He slowly withdraws his fingers, a noise of discontentment leaving him but Link just shushes him, kisses him, before he grabs the nearby throw pillows.

They work together to adjust them beneath the curve of Rhett’s spine, making it more comfortable for him to lift his legs higher, the tops of his thighs pressing back lightly against his body. Link doesn’t want Rhett turned into a pretzel for them to fuck properly, for them to face one another – that won’t look good on camera.

Link’s not one of those driven by the sight of two lumped up forms – bodies a heaving, tangled mass while they work away at one another. Same goes for up close, zoomed in shots of their bodies making a connection. While pleasing in the moment and certainly something he likes to see in the throes of passion, it’s never been something he’s enjoyed in adult films.

Granted, it’s not like he can zoom in with the camera now, so that’s not something he has to worry about exactly, but the fact remains – the two things are not something he wants captured on film. He wants their movie to fulfill his tastes. In reflection, he should have asked for Rhett’s tastes as well, what he would have liked to see, but then he feels fingers pinch at one of his nipples and yelps.

“What was that for?!”

“You’re distracted,” Rhett hisses, squirming beneath him, “Distracted instead of fuckin’ me!”

“I was thinking…” Link looks to the camera and then to Rhett and then back again. Rhett’s head knocks back against the bed on a sigh, “Link, please don’t go all directorial on me now...”

Link lets out a pleased little chuckle, “Lil’ impatient?”

“Ain’t nothing little about me.”

“I beg to differ,” Link growls and he kisses Rhett, buries his hands in all his glorious hair and then – thankfully – he pulls back enough to take a good hold of himself, to direct himself in. Rhett chokes out a sound that is the perfect cross between pain and pleasure and Link glows, “Yeah, see that? You’re so small and tight, sweetheart. I don’t even know if you can fit all of me.”

The cords on Rhett’s neck stand out as he tosses his head back, whimpering as Link spears him open, as he cries, “Jesus, Link.”

“Yes?” Link asks in a strained voice, but one that is light with enjoyment. Because he knows. He knows that – if anything – there’s nothing little about him. And Rhett is recognizing that now. Recognizing that Link is big and thick and filling him up quite nicely. His body is doing its best to stretch, to be accommodating, but it’s hard.

As hard as Rhett’s own dick, which he reaches for, giving it one swift, firm stroke before Link lets out a snarl of disapproval. He snatches back Rhett’s hand, presses it hard back against the mattress with a light, chastising ‘nuh-uh-uh’ and Rhett lets out a tight whine because no. He needs more, he has to have it, and then Link moves.

And this is very much the definition of movement.

Link’s hips work like a well-oiled machine, his length beginning a steady pistoning in and out, and Rhett’s hands can’t help themselves, fleeing to Link’s ass, needing to hold on to something – anything. He grabs it hard – fingers digging in and pressing him down, pressing him deeper, and Link answers with a curse, Rhett’s name following after as he picks up the pace and it’s clear neither of them is going to last long.

Their lips lock and unlock in filthy, wet kisses – their damp foreheads pressing together now and then when they have to draw back for air and just breathe. But they share oxygen between the pants, the bed beneath the shaking slightly – shaking like their limbs and Link’s mouth moves to Rhett’s ear, brushing against it as he whispers, “That’s it. That’s my good boy.”

Rhett sobs and Link kisses his earlobe, gasping, “You going to cum from my big dick alone? You going to do that for Daddy?”

Another tight sound winds its way out of Rhett’s throat and his body is growing rigid even as it trembles and Link can feel him squeezing around him, can feel how close he is. The pressure is fantastic, yet link can’t help himself, can’t help but kiss Rhett’s cheek, can’t help but meet his eyes as he asks, “Tell me…”

“Yesssss,” Rhett hisses and Link presses for it, “Yes, what?”

“Yes!” Rhett pants, his head nodding, “Yes, Da-!”

He doesn’t finish saying it. The word ‘Daddy’ gets lost, becoming a pure, jubilant shout as his body breaks apart, his climax washing over him like a warm, sweet cascade. The feel of it – of Rhett breaking apart beneath him – the sight of him losing control – sends Link over and he cums harder than he ever has.

His body loses complete control, snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight and he knows he goes a little crazy – his body jack hammering away with the kind of force he would normally abhor, but – what can he do? Rhett feels so perfect around him.

Link’s lost – swept up in the storm of Rhett’s release and his own and Link can feel starkly hot, wet spurts against his stomach and his own body is going much the same within Rhett. The collide against one another, again and again, until all the stings of pleasure are wrung out of each of them. They end up a sweaty heap until Link rolls off and looks up at the ceiling, eyes wide, “Wow.”

The word comes out winded. Impressed. Rhett responds much the same. They both stare up at the ceiling and Link knows the camera is still recording, but he could honestly care less. He feels weightless, buoyant, and just as he thinks he might float up and out of his body. Rhett sighs, “I need a new job.”

Link frowns, eyebrows knitting together, and he turns to Rhett, confused, “What?”

Rhett doesn’t look at him, eyes still glues upwards, as he exhales, “Need a new job, man.”

“…why?”

Rhett turns to him and his green gaze is unbelievably soft, “Told you. I said I’d always planned on getting out when I met someone.”

Link doesn’t speak, he just waits. Waits for Rhett to make him one of the happiest men on planet earth, as he says, “And I met you.”

“Yeah?” Link asks shyly, uncertainly and at Rhett’s nod, he smiles, licking his lips, “You saying you like me?”

“Shit, bo, “Rhett laughs, “think it’s pretty obvious I do more’n just like you.”

“Oh?” Link’s heart twirls up inside him and truthfully? This? This is even better than the world shattering sex they just had. More so when Rhett rolls to one side and, looking deep into Link’s eyes, confesses, “Yeah. I love you, Link.”

I love you, Link.

Link rolls on to his side, kisses Rhett, and – finally – gets to say something he’s been thinking for a very long time, “I love you too.”

The film they made is raw, messy, and the best film Rhett thinks he’s ever made.

Link points out it didn’t win any awards, but Rhett boasts that Link IS the reward and honestly, Link will take that. He’ll take that and then some. Rhett drops out of the business; Link continues with school – they transition fully from roommates to friends to lovers and both recognize that this movement in their lives is far better than any other kind of movement.

Because it’s one they’re sharing together.

#rhink #my writing #peachworthy #oh my sweet peach

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