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heli0s-writes · 2 years

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where the shivers won’t find you*

Summary: In which Bucky’s Winter Soldier programming turned him from an Omega into an Alpha, and because he hasn’t suffered enough, the universe decides it’s time he gets turned back. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Warnings: trauma, references to hydra sexual abuse, flashbacks, explicit smut, male masturbation, overstimulation, an unholy amount of come, etc. ~8.7k words of hurt/comfort porn in A/B/O-verse.

a/n: Hey anyone ask for an Alpha!Reader and Omega!Bucky? No? Here it is anyway! P.S. I love writing unhinged women. Title from St. Vincent :) xx

Bucky wishes like all hell that he didn’t know what was happening to him. Better yet, he wishes it wasn’t happening at all or that the world wasn’t this.

He’s met plenty of other species who have sneered at human dynamics, clicked their appendages, and blinked their seventeen eyelids at the way humans were structured to exist on Earth. Species with three spines or two heads or were nothing more than a faint effervescent light that commented disdainfully on the base framework of Earth’s hierarchy.

He thinks that Earth couldn’t be the most fucked up planet out there—that their solar system and all its unknown variables could be topped by some other star cluster and its machinations—but unfortunately, he exists in this one.

And this one has the audacity to breathe James Buchanan Barnes to life as a goddamn Omega.

Like, that’s got to be the biggest your life sucks designation anyone could receive. Omegas are hardwired to be subservient for chrissake and he’s got the double-rare gift of being a male Omega at that. Like whatever divinities schemed together during their monthly meetup of assigning genders and preferences to the next batch of birthed kids decided that in 1917, after sprinkling a smattering of identities on a group of souls, pointed directly to Bucky’s and said, “Yeah, fuck this guy in particular.”

So he grows up being the source of his parents’ fear and shame and he’s told no matter what, he can’t let anyone figure him out. Meaning, naturally, he’s been plied with scent blockers and beta boosters since puberty.

As a fuck you right back, you sick little angels when I get up there I’m gonna lay your fluffy cloud hell to waste, Bucky goes and dies.

And, of course, as a bitch, you thought! the gods wake his ass up on an operating table with a bone saw to the scapula and he spends the next 70 years getting throttled in and out of his own body being The Winter Soldier.

He’s got to thank Hydra, though, because despite their forsaken safety procedures, the overall unsanitary practice, and oh yeah, captivity, the serum unpeeled his brain so thoroughly, reworked his DNA exhaustively that by the time Bucky came to for the last time—his metal arm in an industrial clamp with Steve and Sam gazing down at him in a warehouse—he had the vague notion that he’d been living as an Alpha for a while.

Until now, because of course.

His gut is on fire. It sparks deep inside his belly and aches on and off like he’s being repeatedly kissed by a sledgehammer every fifteen minutes. If he shuts his eyes at the exact moment the pain begins, he feels like he’s back on the operating table and instead of a bone saw, scientists are there with a baseball bat and playing whack-a-mole with his organs.

He’d been in militant denial for the past few months, too caught up in trying to keep the final vestiges of that easy-go-lucky Alpha life to truly sit down and come to terms with glaring signs. He was having adverse reactions to the usual suppressants he’d slap on his forearm when he couldn’t be bothered to ride out a rut because he was too busy on a mission or simply didn’t want to deal with it. Other Alphas could bunker down with their lovers or their toys and go at it for the week, but Bucky never found pleasure in having to do that out of sheer animalistic drive.

But then six months ago he smacked on a suppressant patch and noticed that the skin around his forearm swelled up something ugly, dried into an upsetting shade of pale, and when Bucky finally soaked it off, it only took forty-five minutes for his cock to spring up into the angriest, most furious hard-on he ever experienced. And he, blessedly, had just enough sense to deadbolt himself inside his house, text everyone to make themselves scarce for the next three days, and plow through his rut with minimal nerve damage to his poor dick.

It was off.

He hurt afterwards, more than the usual dullness and lethargy of being drained post-rut. His blood felt sludgy in his veins, his breath so sticky and leaden—and even his brain, something was sparkling between the folds, trying to alert him of what, he didn’t know.

He didn’t want to know.

A few months later and one more deeply worrying, exacerbated denial of a rut where he shoved his dick into lubed up, squelching silicone sleeves, coming until he blacked out to no avail later—he knows now.

He’s not in rut, he’s in heat.

And there’s a hair thin line of difference between the two, but the implications of Bucky reverting back to being the bottom of the food chain in his current state is going to either get him killed—or worse—because the world is a whole ass shitshow on fire, and he’s freshly touched down in the city after a tiring mission with little energy to fight his instincts or anyone lucky enough to stumble on him emanating pheromones, and he cannot—he fucking cannot lose control over his body again.

Not again. Not again.

Not ever again.

If he had it in him to scream, he would. But he’s riding at breakneck speed back to his house, his bike roaring through the sleeping streets of the city, every unavoidable bump or pothole impacting his entire quivering body head-on because he hardly has the organizational skills to dodge and steer and breathe at the same time.

He’s two hours away, shoving through a red light, barely missing a sedan that blares a vehement horn at him when his ribs start squeezing inward and air is being strangled out of his throat. He can’t see straight much less have enough sense to successfully cut around another patch of traffic, and when he pauses at the next stop, his heart is well on its way to overclocking.

The intersection is quiet, nothing but the beeping of a crosswalk alerting no one to pass and Bucky is trying to gulp down his breath, smacking up the visor of his helmet to get the night into his lungs, unzipping his jacket to allow his chest to cool. He’s panting with blood in his ears rushing up into his scalp, and it’s dead—it’s so fucking still that he thinks maybe he can do this, he can make it up the service road and streak past the next seventeen exits—until a car pulls up to his left.

The worst part is, they’re kids.

A handful of them with the top of their convertible down, whooping along in conversation about the party they’d just left. Three are in the back, woozy with underage drinking, kicking at the seat of the driver, who swats them in good humor. The one in the passenger side is a bit more alert than his other friends and leaning his head on the crook of his elbow as he laughs, saying, “Shut the fuck up, man.”

The light is stretching longer than any light should, and Bucky’s trying to shake himself lucid, trying to balance the fear of the unknown with the horror of his immediate reality, and when he chances a look over his shoulder, he catches the kid’s eye.

One second, the kid, hair wild and scraggly but ash brown and framing his face in a way that’s placating, is still smiling but then he takes in a lungful of the night—a lungful of Bucky only five feet away—and both his hands are on the metal frame of the door, tension bulging out of his shoulders.

“Hey!” he yells, his pupils blown out wide. His friends startle at his volume, gradually more curious about the waft of scent beginning to float over their heads.

“What the fuck is—”

“Woah—shit is that an Omeg—”

And Bucky can’t listen to it. Can’t chance it. Can’t allow it. He doesn’t even let the whole word into his ear, fuck his faculties, fuck his ability to dodge and steer and breathe at the same time. Fuck the gods and the world. He kicks himself off past the red light, making a sharp bank away from his current path at a speed even more reckless than before, the yelling behind him getting eaten by the wind.

Nobody’s here.

He knows this because he delegated the rest of his mission to the owner of this house. It’s a single safehouse in a tiny neighborhood up a hill lit by a yellow porch light because said owner heard that yellow light keeps the bugs away.

It’s a modest place mostly kept as a supply drop and makeshift rest area; the money spent on the purchase mostly for the large perimeter rather than the structure itself. The elderly neighbors are far enough away so that if anyone trudged to the door coughing up blood or towing an unconscious teammate with them, there’d be no questions because any possible witnesses are both too far to notice and retired to bed at sunset.

He swats at a moth as he trudges up, wincing with each step, and tries to find some joy at how the yellow light advert was probably wrong.

You’d hate that. You’d get real pissy about that and it brings a satisfying smirk to Bucky’s grimacing face. You’d yell or something. Pitch a whole fit and either try to search up research articles to prove him wrong or make him take responsibility for ruining your life. It’d be a real dramatic production of Bucky Barnes Needs to Mind His Own Business.

God, he’s looking forward to that bullshit. Something categorically normal to soothe his extremely and suddenly, once more, abnormal existence.

His boots clatter on the tile when he clambers in, shuffling himself against the wall, fumbling to make it to a soft surface. He tears into the bathroom on the way, rummaging around the cabinets for anything to help his pain before the next inevitable round of organ-bashing resurfaces. He squints at labels and rattles a glass of tweezers and exacto blades, knocking over some rubbing alcohol before finding a container of muscle relaxers and rattles at least three into his gullet.

The recent intervals have picked up their pace during the time he started his heat to now, and the waves have begun come every ten or so minutes, trickling down the more time he spends with his hands not on himself.

He swallows, willing the damn pills down his throat, knowing they’ll be out of his stupid Super Soldier metabolism sooner than he’d like, but at least staving off a few rounds of what feels like atomic warfare trying to bust out of his nuts.

It’ll be enough for him to ransack the place and collect his survival tools as if he’s in a zombie apocalypse movie.

He’s hauling in two gallons of purified water along with an armful of dried goods when his phone buzzes nonstop in his pocket.

“Hey,” the voice on the other line huffs loudly, “I didn’t ask for this Mickey Mouse bullshit.”

Bucky winces and clicks his volume down.

“The locals are reaming me out about this cleanup job. Do you know the amount of paperwork I’m going to have to file for this? You started a fire.”

“Hello to you too,” he responds, kicking the gallons toward the bedside, dropping the food into the small sofa chair near the window and taking off his shoes.

“A woman’s cat didn’t make it—she says she’s gonna sue the entire United States— my Pashto isn’t good enough to threaten her back."

There’s chatter in the background and echoes of footsteps as if you’re in a lobby, and someone comes by to get your attention. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut because he’s got other things to worry about right now, and he’ll promise he’ll let you ream him out later. Hell, he’ll let you knock his ass back into the paleolithic age if you want; you’d be doing him a favor.

“You owe me so bad,” you grumble, “You owe me a limb for this, sweetheart. The good one. The metal one.”

Bucky sighs deeply, “I’ll give you a free punch, how about that? Listen, I gotta go,” he barely manages to say as a jolt rushes up his side.

“Hell no, you’ve got to suffer at least five more minutes of complaints or else I’ll be calling back until one of our phone dies.”

“Two free punches, and I’m hanging up.”

And then he turns the entire thing off and drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, bowing his head. He’s blearily unbuttoning his pants, letting go of the low, pained wail he’s been keeping in in his chest, and shakes his way through it until he’s got no more air left, until his mouth is filled with saliva and his throat is hoarse and crackling.

He pants dryly, clutching his middle. Fuck, it’s going to be this again: the crying and screaming and thrashing because he was never correctly taught on how to be easy through heat. Because suppressants in the early 1900’s were shoddy at best and his parents did what they could with an Omega son, but their best consisted of turning their clammy basement of pickled goods into a provisional dungeon for when the heat was stronger than the medicine. Or when they couldn’t afford it. Or when the local doctor started asking why the Barnes family needed this many blockers.

So he’s gonna hurt physically, emotionally, and he’s going to re-experience his fucked-up Omega life in both memory and reality.

On the bright side of it—a tiny fragment of silver lining—the serum consumes everything like a flashfire. As an Alpha, his (and Steve’s) ruts were a few days shy of a week, which is like the blessing of a lifetime when you loathe the experience, so he tries to find solace in the fact that his heat will go on shorter than he’s previously experienced it.

Bucky stares at the water a few inches away from his face. It’s been about an hour and the muscle relaxant is ebbing out of his system. He pats around the scattered bits of goods on the chair for the rest, grabs a protein bar on the way, and crams it into his mouth along with six more pills. Fuck yeah, he’s gonna be out like a light.

His eyes are fluttering when he flops down on the covers, ignoring the dust that bounces off the bed with his weight. He can’t exactly be mad at you for that— this is a last resort kind of dwelling. You come this way maybe three times a year to re-stock, because your loft in Manhattan is your happy place and this one is just—

He looks around through the haze swimming over his vision, shivering lightly as goosebumps rise up his arms.

It’s sterile here. Scant furniture in the living area and dining room. The kitchen houses maybe two pots and a single knife, from what Bucky remembers as he dug around. Mostly canned creamy soups, a lot of protein powder, and an outrageous amount of pudding cups. The bathroom contains an overabundance of medical supplies, which is the norm for these places, but other than that—the only room that seems like it was given some care to is the bedroom.

It’s carpeted with lush fibers, firstly. The bed he’s on, despite the thin covering of dust, is phenomenal, and almost an immediate reprieve on his tortured skin. The sheets are silky and cool and slip right off. Loads of blankets are bundled inside an oversized wicker basket by the dresser, the inviting sofa chair currently holding up Bucky’s trove of necessities, and a single lamp on the end table. The shade is a simple beige covering but there’s a colorful bulb inside, and when Bucky turns it on with trembling fingers, it flushes the room in warm, calming tangerine. There’s even a white noise machine, a small humidifier, a fan, and a portable speaker that he could probably put some music on.

That’s nice, for now, when he’s kind of swaying off into la-la-land because you’ve got horse tranquilizers in capsule form and he’s not gonna look at that proverbial gift horse in the mouth. Bucky supposes that it pays to have a friend who’s fifty shades of questionable.

He picks himself up to reach into the side table, making the lamp wobble. He pats around for what he needs, and when he pulls out a container of what looks like high-quality lube, he mutters fucking thank you and hopes you feel his gratitude across the world.

It wakes him with a jolt.

Full-on, unstoppable, un-dampened because the bottle of benzodiazepine is now blissfully empty and mocking him as he shudders to life and begins to rock against the headboard, fist over cock, stroking hard and fast and lewd. Coral pink spreads to his chest and groin and thighs in an embarrassing shade of aroused, but thank god, thank god, he made it here.

Thank god he didn’t crash into someone, didn’t get hauled off somewhere, into an alley or a hospital—to be discovered that the goddamn Winter Soldier was a helpless Omega begging to be fucked.

Bucky moans loudly as he feels the first orgasm approaching, then pouncing, then tearing him in half as he comes, spraying long lines on his abdomen and chest, the smell rising up into his own nose as a heady, desperate aroma.

He whines and arcs back into his hand again and fucking ashamed of it.

He hates this. Hates the way he’s trapped in a fever he can’t dig out of. Trapped in the basement, in the operating room, the chair, the ice, immobilized and taken under by a force that renders him absolutely powerless. That hacks at his humanity until he’s gone—reduced to the lowest form of animal, until he has no agency left, at the mercy of who-fucking-ever who never chooses to have any mercy on him.

He comes again, feeling better temporarily, the quick rush of endorphins hitting him like a summer breeze until the flame returns, licking slowly, as if goading him on, pretending like he has any chance against it. He knows he doesn’t. Done this enough to remember, viscerally, that he doesn’t. Even if he was still in denial, there’s no defiance stubborn enough to ignore how his ass is fucking slick, his balls tight and pulsing, and his cock a graphic hue of erect.

He comes again and it doesn’t help. Course not.

He comes again and slugs down half a gallon of water afterwards, gagging slightly from the effort.

He comes again and wipes himself off with one of your many towels he grabbed from the bathroom. He’s a gross fucking asshole because this towel is periwinkle and fuzzy with an embroidered flower on the corner now nasty with spunk. Oh god, he’s going to deep clean the place after this.

He comes again and passes the fuck out.

Time blurs into one long mockery. Minutes pass. Hours pass. Maybe the sun rose and hung and set. The curtains are a thick material, made to block out light, engulfing the window on the other side, and he hasn’t got the mental fortitude to face the outside world like this, not even behind a glass pane. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know anything.

Bucky’s up again, much later, finished chewing a miserable protein bar that did not have enough cashews in it, despite advertising as a primarily cashew-y snack. He’s dirtied with sweat and the filmy, lingering layer of come, but he can’t shower yet because there’s no point. His skin is still thrumming with the early onslaught of another wave and if he showers now, he’ll have to shower again in a couple of hours. He doesn’t even know if you have enough soap for more than one or two—so he’s got to ration his washing appropriately.

His legs are stiff from his toes to his upper thighs. He hurts so fucking much and it’s revolting that the only time he doesn’t hurt is right as he’s having an orgasm so hard that he feels half-blind, and it’s the screech of falling over the edge that whites out the rest of the pain. But as soon as that light flickers back to the rich amber of your room, and his cock twitches; he has to restart or else he’ll feel like sobbing.

Is it worse this time around? Was it this god-fucking-awful before? He thought so, but he was also pre-serum, and doesn’t have the kind of pain tolerance he does now.

But, considering his pain tolerance… and the absurd clawing in his belly, he wonders if somehow his body decided that re-writing its DNA back into being an Omega would call forth some horrific primordial heat? Like it’s been vengefully amassing all those years he skipped out on and now lording the compounded weight of nature’s veiny, throbbing fuckstick over him and oh god, if the first ten times were any indication to the rest of this cycle, Bucky can’t say it’s humanly possible to survive.

Next thing he knows, he’s shooting off with a high, keening noise. He wheezes out curses under his breath as it splatters up like the rest, before moving to grab at another poor towel, thinking thank you and I’m so sorry as he pathetically wipes himself off, shuddering through the aftershocks.

He’s weak and dehydrated, so he chugs another ten gulps of water and pops open a pudding cup for quick calories, gagging down the cloying chocolate aftertaste.

Why do you have so much fucking pudding? Why is this unquestionably cozy bed starting to piss him off? Why is this room so small and huge at the same time?

Why can’t he breathe.

Why can’t he fucking live.

He’s got to—got to fix this. Got to immediately pass go and collect his 200 dollars and get the hell up out of here. Gotta find something that’ll knock him into next week. Put him in a coma, for all he cares, if that means he’ll wake up feeling at least 45% back to normal, sans heat, pending drug withdrawal. He’s gonna make the worst cocktail out of your stash anyone’s ever seen.

This is your fuck around and find out safehouse. This is your I’m on my last leg and maybe I got stabbed but give me seven minutes and I’ll be ready to stab back safehouse.

This is the place he swung by to check in on you once after a FUBAR mission and found you on the floor, sucking and spitting poison out of one arm’s wound while simultaneously stitching up a gash on the other arm. And yes, exactly seven minutes later you were out the door, blood casually smeared up to your forehead like warpaint, and yes, you did, indeed, stab back.

There’s a hell lot more than a single tube of muscle relaxants in this place; he’s just got to sniff it out.

Bucky rolls himself off the edge of the bed, landing with a muffled grunt when he hits the floor and scrambles to feel around beneath the mattress. Nothing. He groans as his clammy body shivers and has enough decency to wrap himself up in a knitted blanket from the wicker basket.

He’s pilfering the drawers of the repurposed dresser, scattering knick knacks on top. The dimmer to the lamp goes flying, a box of tissues gets tossed elsewhere. The drawers squeak in protest as he shoves his fingers inside, feeling for things that he knows in his right mind he should not be finding.

But he’s not in his right mind. And he’ll clean up, he swears. He’ll apologize for taking advantage of the spare key you gave him, replace the pantry of food and water and lube, he won’t mention that he ejaculated all over the place, or that he’s discovering that beneath your extra tac gear and change of clothes, there’s a trove of toys.

Bucky gawks at the assortment. The shapes and sizes and—he thinks he’s blushing even though he’s been the one desecrating this property for the last 32 unholy hours. Some of them are nearly luxurious—in subtle shapes and colors—while others are garishly vulgar. He’s starting to spiral as he palms them, vaguely debating on their efficacy before he catches a scent.

It’s beneath the middle drawer.

He yanks it open.

What the hell…

What the hell.

He pillages through the stack of clothes. Why didn’t he notice it before? He yanks them out and tosses them onto the bed, frantic, staring at his open hands like they’re not his own, then pressing his fingers to his nose where the smell wouldn’t have register to anyone else if they weren’t Bucky. If they weren’t a serum recipient. If they weren’t an Omega.

Oh, it’s strong. It’s musky and delicious and there’s been an attempt by an overload of detergent to scrub it out, but it’s still there. Sweet, bitter, making him deliriously angry that he can’t seem to sniff out any more of it—that it’s not actively coating his fingers and his face.

He mindlessly returns to the bed and burrows into the sheets, seeking more. He’s been drowned out by his own need and panic but now that he’s on the trail, he can taste it everywhere. The pillowcases were clean, and now soaked with his perspiration, but the scent is inside between the fibers stuffing. The sheets, the comforter, the mattress itself, washed and lined—spotless bordering on clinical—but he’s got it in his lungs, on his tastebuds.

He knows he’s being crazy as he twists into the covers, letting the cool fabric loop around his thigh and calf, bunching it up in his fists and shoving it over his face. The shirts and sweatpants he tossed over are twined up in the mass of cotton, falling on him, covering him up.

And it smells—so. fucking. good.

Like sweat. Like spit. Like come.

Like the shadow of an Alpha’s rut.

Bizarrely, like you.

You.

You. You? Alpha?

That can’t be right; he must be hallucinating. He’s so far in the deep end of his heat that he’s making it up because for as long as he’s known you, as long as he’s been your friend, you’ve been a no-nonsense Beta. Sure, you were more troublesome than most he’s met, but personalities are valid despite hierarchy. And your personality happened to be more… hostile toward most of the Alphas on the team.

Steve, Thor, T’Challa, Sam, and Bucky. The lineup was stacked with them.

No one could help how they presented, but also no one complained that it was extremely beneficial to have the advantage of being one in their line of work.

Alphas were dominant. Strong and powerful and their presence alone asserted control. Get caught in a hysterical mob as a Beta and no one will give a flying fuck about whether or not you’re trying to corral them to safety; you simply don’t have the authority to herd anyone. Alphas are mostly men, and it’s not as bad for a woman to be an Alpha as a man to be an Omega, but that doesn’t mean you’re not both holding onto adjacent split ends of a short stick.

Listen, he’s got some choice words for the universe that he’ll shout himself hoarse about later, but right now he’s angrily trying to suffocate himself with your clothes. His erection is back, unchecked, raring to go and harder than before because now he’s caught a whiff of you, and now he’s spellbound and keening for more of this specific drug.

Bucky’s head is so dizzy, so enamored, so enraptured with wanting to come, with fantasizing about coming for you that he folds himself in half, face buried into your clothes, buried some more into the covers, both hands between his legs and pumping forcefully. He’s abandoned his senses now, crying out as he rolls his hips forward for any more friction from himself or the bed, so lost that when he orgasms again, he lets go of a string of expletives and pleads and dry sobs that he hardly registers as his own voice.

It hurts so fucking much, everywhere.

The pleasure of your scent isn’t strong enough to overpower the confusion or the shame or the exhaustion that’s eating at his soul. He’s not only defiled your space, but your bed, and your clothes, and your… trust? If you never find out, he would still know. He would know that he wasn’t strong enough to stop anything. That he was going to forever be subject to existing as the cruelest display of humiliation from the powers that be.

He can’t breathe again, feeling crushed in every way. He muffles another howl, curses and bites at his hands and fingers and lips and feels the fibers of his muscles scream as he clenches his entire body up in self-punishment.

“Fuck,” he grunts, the syllable bouncing back at him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

And on the last curse, he hears an echo of the noise not reverberating from his hand, or the blanket, but from behind him.

Bucky whips up, startled.

You’re mirroring his surprise, standing in the doorway with your tac suit still on, a tender welt striped across your nose and cheek, expression wide open and petrified.

In his mind, he’s roaring for it to stop. Screaming for the moment to somehow rewind, take him all the way back to last year and put him out of his misery there. Take him back to last month, even. Or last week, or hell, he’ll take 48 hours ago, when he was on the phone with you, and he could kick his past self for not realizing that as slim of a possibility as this would be the one out of three times you’d check in here—that he could at least tell you to stay away.

Hey, I didn’t sign up for this Mickey Mouse bullshit.

I know you didn’t. I’m sorry, I don’t tell you enough, but you’re the best friend a fella can have—now do me a real solid, champ, do me the favor of a lifetime, and don’t go to your drug-den-safehouse. I’m starting my heat and I’ll explain everything later but you’re the best. Don’t forget it.

He’s still stark naked in the middle of the mattress, bent over the comforter and sheets, the array of bedclothes knotted chaotically around his thighs and waist and clutched between his hands as he lowers them numbly. The muscles in his back flex as he breathes, and the words fall out of his desolate head as soft, useless gasps.

You swallow thickly, taking a step back, nostrils slightly flared, leaning out of the room for as clean of air as you can get.

Neither of you know what to do. The shock of the situation is beginning to dissipate, but it leaves behind an oppressive awkwardness where both of you try to not be so obvious as you dissect the possible options and take stock of each other.

Scent, temperature, shallowness of breath. Injuries. Expression. Body language. How long are your eyes going to stay on his face? When will they move—oh, they’re moving now—down his spine, his waist, his elbows. His shoulders, red and clawed; his cheeks, puffy and swollen with crying; his lips, bitten at and parted.

Your brows tilt in pained ways and he’s never seen you so torn about anything. After a couple of tries at engaging the moment, you finally make an attempt, and it comes out jilted as if you’re reading a prompter.

“What do you need? I—have— things.”

His sweat-slick, burning, numbed face crumples inward. He chokes back a distressed noise, ransacks his muzzy brain for a remedy.

All that comes up is, stupidly, “I can’t eat any more pudding. There’s so much goddamn pudding.”

You snort a laugh, blindsided, and your shoulders relax.

“It’s an easy, high-calorie food.” You shrug, “Long shelf life and you don’t have to worry about chewing if you’re too tired. Goes down simple. Won’t make your belly too full like protein shakes or soup.”

He frowns, “Personal experience?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this… your rut safehouse?”

You shrug distantly by way of reply.

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” you nod faintly his way, “looks like we don’t know a few things about each other.”

Bucky doesn’t realize his nails are digging into his thigh until the indents are prickling blood. He doesn’t realize that he’s been holding his breath until he exhales shakily—and upon an inhale, the quick rush of air oxygenates his lungs and sends waves of shock to his senses. He’s burning. He can smell you. He can smell you, aroused by him, trying to hold your own instincts back.

He winces and doesn’t speak because if he does, he’ll betray himself.

He needs control. He needs to remain intact. If he lets go now, he’ll never stop.

He changes course.

“Why do you hide it?”

“It’s not useful to me,” you say, only a tiny bitten back exhale sounding out, “There are too many preconceived notions about gender and label.” You tick them off on your fingers with a wry grin, “Whether or not I can keep my head every season, where I am in the pecking order… if I’m subconsciously trying to usurp power from the men.”

Then you shove your hands in your pockets and work your jaw like you’re chewing the dynamics to cinders. “I dislike many aspects of being Alpha—”

And there it is.

Bucky tries to corral it, but he breaks out into a groan, and then clamps his jaw shut, gasping hard and fast.

Your eyes widen at him before they flick away. After a moment, you continue, “—I dislike how I act as one, and I don’t want to become a self-fulfilling prophecy as one. So I take blockers and boosters and I have more of a grip on it.” Then, you look up with a forced smile, “Besides, can you imagine me, full force, going head-to-head with Rogers on a bad day?”

Bucky attempts, “You have different personalities,” which is a lie and a half because the problem between you and Steve is that you are eerily similar, except one of you is more eager to inflict grievous bodily harm than the other.

“Sure,” you deadpan, “Now take the Beta boosters out of the equation and I know myself enough to acknowledge that I’m on the wrong end of the Big Bad A variety. You don’t want this au naturel, Barnes, trust me. Rogers thinks I’m half to unhinged now— but I miss my dose and there won’t be a hinge left for me to hang on.”

The sincere grin you give him is disarming, but it’s the sobering way you’ve said it that splinters something in his chest. Wrecks and pulverizes it to a fine dust like gunpowder, and the confetti of its aftermath is clinging to his capillaries. Feels on the cusp of ignition.

Bucky’s seen you lunge the length of three cars after a running start and dive knife-first into someone’s rib cage. He’s seen you slip into the fine opening between the third and fourth rib like the spot was made to catch your blade. You’ve always inhabited your body effortlessly and he’d always said you were the craziest fucking thing he’d ever met, glad you were on their side than the others’, glad you were his friend and not his enemy.

Jesus, you’ve been operating under boosters this whole time—the magnitude of raw ability intentionally tamped down.

He knows it’s his heat raring. He knows its that reptilian brain of his, overzealous with its primitive desire to witness the animal. The crux of being an Omega—the core of his marker—that is beginning to salivate at the idea that you could, very much, and especially right now, tear him to pieces—and easily.

And, please.

He can’t help that he wants to hear it again. He wants you to admit it, on a base level, to assert the truth, tell him what you are, tell him what he is, and make him surrender to you. Take the agony from him and… take him.

Then, belatedly, he realizes, “This is your rut safehouse.” As in, you are here, because you are in rut. Right now. Didn’t he already say that earlier? Is his brain only now catching up?

“Ding ding ding.” Your tone is flat and joyless, “Only here twice a year. Even my obstinate ass can’t stand the pressure of suppressed heat— you know that it builds up? I go meds-free half a week before bunkering down but you are in more of an emergency situation at the moment, so give me a couple of minutes and I’ll get out of your hair.”

His stomach lurches because he suddenly doesn’t want you to go. Doesn’t want you to move anywhere but closer because the air is flexing around you in currents, rippling out and out and out and over him like a heatwave and it smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good. Like mercy or compassion. The taste of rainwater during a summer heatwave. The breaking of a fever, the parting of an impenetrable fog. The first breath of a new life.

He’s starting to become agitated again, and hell, what would those disdainful extraterrestrials that clicked their pincers at how Earth was little more than a blue rock populated by insatiable little animals think of him now? Fuck them for having the privilege of fucking off a trillion light years back to their own whatever-color rock and perhaps reproduce via unproblematic sporing. Lucky bastards, but Bucky doesn’t know any other life; he’s just got the one that’s trying to repeatedly kill him for simply existing.

And he’s really, really tired of that.

So he demands, much too loud, “Bite me,” before you can turn around. And in case you needed further clarification, he goes ahead and tacks on, “Mark me up. Control me,” he pleads, the words hemorrhaging out now, “Give me my control back, I’m fucking begging you.”

“What—"

“I think,” he says, terrified. “I think before the serum changed me all the way… when I was captured…"

He trails off, unfocused as linoleum flooring sparks at the edges of his memory. Big, calloused, cruel hands grabbing him everywhere despite the way he screams in his mind, can’t make his mouth move any way except how they tell him to.

His fingers fist the sheets as he figures out the aversion his entire body’s having to this is more than flesh memories from a damp basement and an unlucky childhood. It’s Hydra, too. When they broke him down into little pieces before they put him back together wrong.

A blink later and he realizes his cheeks are wet.

You’re the closest to being in shock he’s ever seen you, looking like you could throw up or level the building. The muscles of your neck move jerky, your limbs stiff and angry and unsure. Bucky’s not, though; he’s very sure. This is the surest he’s been about anything in a long time.

“You mark me, and we stop worrying about our cycles for the rest of our sorry natural lives. We hole up here and—whatever with each other. I stop being a free-for-all fuck signal for every Alpha within a five-mile radius, and you—”

Your eyes skitter over him, his flesh wet with perspiration, his lips trembling, jaw bulging from grinding his molars together. There’s only the sound of his ragged wheezing, and your own shallow ones following in a ferocious tempo.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes in defeat. “I actually don’t know what you get. How fucked is this?”

“It’s… pretty fucked.”

His heart plummets down to his belly, which is beginning to squeeze again, twisting and hurting until he re-folds into the sheets, clutching them between the webbing of his fingers. The agony feels different this time. Feels vindictive, feels personal.

“But to answer your question,” you suggest, a little choked, a little kind, “maybe I get you. How do you feel about that?”

“What?” Signals are backfiring now. He’s overloading, he thinks, impacted with the buildup of about 70 years of heat, bone tired and off the rails—he must have not heard you right.

“Yes,” you say.

“Y-yes? Just like that?”

“Yes,” you confirm, “just like that.” You step forward, shoulders in a hard line, focused on him. “Maybe we’re both— maybe heat’s not a good time to make these decisions, but I could fuck you senseless and then go kill every Hydra agent still alive if you asked me.” You bare your teeth in a show of dominance, of fury, and Bucky’s heart slams up to his throat at the sight of your canines—so sharp and pretty. “How do you feel about that?”

“Holy shit,” he says, refusing to question himself anymore. He feels everything. He feels… relieved, excited, grateful. Fuck, he feels ready. “Holy shit, come here, please. You gotta—you gotta get your hands on me.”

You rub the back of your neck, grin, and move to sit at the edge of the mattress.

“Bucky,” you say, reaching for the hollows of his cheek. His face is puffy and raw, and he must look like shit run over twice and suddenly wants to hide because up close, you’re gorgeous. You’ve always been—he’s got two fucking eyes, regardless of how swollen they are right now—but here, tender and waiting for him, letting him know that you see him, that you’ll care for him, it takes everything for Bucky not to promptly curl up like a lost child in your lap.

“It must have hurt, huh? I’m sorry about that.”

Bucky whimpers, feels himself quivery from pain or anticipation or embarrassment. But in the good way, like receiving attention on your birthday, like knowing the whole world might congratulate you for simply being born. And he’s never once felt like that before. And it’s making him light all the way up.

Your rub up and down his arms, his waist, his chest, then rest loosely at his hips and he shuffles to prop himself against the headboard, waiting for direction. He’d do anything you wanted him to.

“Can I kiss you, Bucky?”

He parts his lips by way of reply and you’re on him before he has the chance to do anything else. The bed dips with your weight, Bucky leaned back against the headboard, recoiling as you take charge and lead.

Your mouth is sweet and coppery with blood from an earlier split lip, he estimates. It doesn’t bother him whatsoever. He only wants more of it, more of that flavor that’s pulling him in, holding him down and safe. You kiss him slow, but firmly, his face in your hands, reconfiguring until your thighs are spread over his and caging him.

You’re bowed like a cat, forehead against his for a second, tips of your noses touching. Your pupils are so big and dark, teeth coming together in a faint click.

“Tell me you’ve changed your mind and I’ll go. Nothing’s gonna be different between us.”

The oddity of being asked—the very option to say no—makes him shake his head, “I want you. Do you want me?”

The way you move next astonishes him. It’s a barely noticeable tremor that starts at the base of your spine, rustling itself up until you crane yourself toward the ceiling, lids closing in pleasure, a puff of hot, heady air slipping from between your teeth.

“Jesus, do I want you?”

And then you’re maneuvering him like he’s not over 200 pounds of assassin. You grab him by his waist and hoist him up higher on the bed, make him arch his chest into yours, settle atop his thighs and lick into his mouth like both of you might die without it.

“Do I want you,” you huff, hunger breaking the surface, “on a regular day I want you. Right now, I could— what I don’t want is to scare you.”

It softens something inside him, making his breath hitch. You keep advancing, kissing his top and then bottom lip, sliding your tongue in, tasting every corner of him, murmuring all the ways you’ve wanted him since you met him, all the ways you want him happy and safe and fucked out.

“I didn’t know,” he gets out between breaths.

“Yeah, we have jobs; I have to behave.”

Another astonishment. Bucky snorts loudly in disbelief. “Putting Steve in a chokehold your idea of behaving?”

You laugh, nipping at his ear and neck, “It was a friendly chokehold, to help him with his afternoon naptime. I can put you in one too if you’re jealous about it.”

The softness in him is spreading everywhere. The stupid banter, the kindness of the entire gesture, the ease of finally being able to let go and not have to worry about being lost to a traumatic heat either alone or with someone who doesn’t care about him—someone he doesn’t trust—someone who’ll hurt him.

He’d forgotten about his oversensitive body until now, but the rubbing of your suit against his groin pulls out a sharp gasp. You begin moving again, taking the sheet off him until he’s exposed, naked and stretched out beneath you, flecked by his own nails.

You mouth at him, tracing each scratch and bruise like rubbing in a salve. Further and further down until he’s squirming, hips rolling in erratic circles, his cock heavy and slapping against his lower abs. Bucky curses incoherently when you wrap your fingers around him, begging his body to manage itself, but it feels so fucking good.

Each stroke ends with your thumb grazing the sensitive spot beneath his cockhead, flicking upward to make him spasm. Your hot kisses are at his inner thigh, lapping up the excessive precum he keeps leaking out. You breathe in his scent, growling faintly on impulse.

When you swallow him down and he hits the back of your throat, Bucky’s gone for it.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps out, thrusting automatically, “Oh fuck, I’m s-sorry,” but you only lace your fingers through his and let him keep on. He’s dizzy again, breaking down and coming right then and there, shooting into your throat, almost howling.

He can’t believe there’s so much of it, is the craziest thing about heat. The human body utterly goes haywire and temporarily reprograms itself to fuck for about a week without any care for the rest of its natural processes.

He lets out a hysterical noise, unsure if he’s completely on Earth or what. The timeline of his life abruptly feels condensed to two phases: before you and after you. There were orgasms alone and orgasms with other people, and then there was this—this otherworldly tow of desire and pleasure that feels like the hand of God wrenching him out of his body. Wringing him bone-dry and it’d only been a matter of minutes.

You’re grinning at him, drawing circles at the sensitive dip of skin between his thigh and groin, lips lazy and doting. “I’ll take care of you, Bucky Barnes. You’re mine now. I’m gonna mark you—mark you all over.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t catch fire at that, the idea of your teeth on the nape of his neck, biting down and branding him another catalyst in his imminent combustion. He says, “Yeah?” stupidly, like it’s the only word he’s been taught to remember.

You take off your suit with ease, peeling it away and sit naked on top of him, the dirtied gear flung off into a corner of the room. You’re wet, slicked up and gushing in preparation to take him, and this is what thoroughly losing your fucking mind feels like. When the urgency of heat builds up and up and up and jerking off is only a hint at the beginning of true pleasure.

The mere sight of you— the scent of hot, exposed skin, pheromones filling up his nose and lungs and blood. His sore cock fattens up immediately, erect and at the ready—the greedy fucking thing—and you’re stroking up the underside, licking your lips and panting like he’s doing something to you.

It’s embarrassing how he doesn’t last whatsoever. No chance in fucking hell it was going to happen, but he’s horrifically depressed that it’s this bad. You’re still sitting on top of him, gorgeous and naked, with his cock between your legs , one thumb brushing at his nipple, then tugging, then twisting until it’s just this side of painful— pink and sore and you slide your cunt right along his shaft and that’s it.

He’s covered in his own come again, hardly able to cobble his mind back into one piece before you’re rolling him over, arm reaching around his waist to grip him. You’re on his neck, fangs scraping with intent, and Bucky’s trying to plead that he needs to be inside you but he can’t get anything out.

“You’ll do what I say,” you growl, still on his neck, “You’re my mate now, and I’m your Alpha, you got that?” He thrusts weakly into your fist. “Say it, Bucky.”

“You’re my Alpha. I’m yours.” It’s a miracle he’s making any sense.

“I own you, got it? Nobody’s ever gonna touch you again but me. I’m gonna make this so good for you, Buck. Make it so you’ll forget the rest.”

He comes in long, heavy lines, crying out in amazement, wrecked with pleasure and overstimulation as you proceed to jerk him off again. His mind is freewheeling, unfastened by pleasure, aching beautifully like he never thought possible. He hardly registers it when you bite down, let his blood flow in your mouth, seal it off, and his heartbeat trips up, feels like it’s re-writing itself, falling into a new pulse that howls like your name.

It’s all instinct now. He’s yours now and yours tomorrow and yours forever. And yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. Nobody will ever touch him again except you.

Bucky’s had over a century long lifespan of shame and suffering and the type of contact that’s left scars all over. He’s been hidden and captured and buried—taken to pieces until he was little more than scattered fragments of a mangled body. Called a weapon and a slave and then absolutely nothing.

And now he’s being called someone’s lover—someone’s mate.

“You’re mine,” you repeat, gently like sensing the emotion welling up in his chest, “don’t you forget.”

He only nods when joy drips out of his eyes. You roll him back over, smiling and kissing them away, lick at his cheeks and lips and makes him taste copper and salt and then what strangely feels like freedom.

“I’m here, baby,” you assure, lining yourself up with him, taking him deep like he was made exclusively to fit your body. “I’ll take care of you, alright? It’s only for a few more days but I’m here now. Are you ready?”

For once, he’s given a choice.

For once, he knows he is.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #alpha beta omega #reader insert #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst

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emiewritesthings · 3 years

Text

the mess you left behind ✩ jay halstead

summary: in which jay realises that his act to protect y/n ended up hurting her

requested: yess

Would you be able to write one where jay and reader broke up and then one night she’s out with her friends drunk and loses them so she calls jay crying to come and pick her up. And he ends up sleeping in her couch to make sure she’s ok and then in the morning they talk about their feelings and get back together

warnings: age gap (7 years), swearing

Even before they had met Jay, Y/n had constantly been reminded by her tight knit group of friends what a bad idea it was to date an older guy. And they didn’t mean a couple weeks older, or a couple months, or even a couple years. No, they were directly referencing the 7 years that separated her from her now ex-boyfriend.

They just didn’t get it, she’d tell herself whilst blocking out the rant that Amelia or Michelle was spewing over their coffee meetup. None of them understood that even despite her long dating history at age 23, she had never been with a man that treated her quite like the one and only Detective Jay Halstead. Previously, she’d stuck to boys that were only, at max, 8 or 9 months her senior. yet she was made to feel like an exhausted mother that had to raise them and mature them. With Jay, though, he had everything sorted out, if anything she felt a burden for ruining his adulting with her early twenties shenanigans.

However, none of that mattered, for she was made to feel so special, so adored that she would forget it all, devoted purely to capturing everything that her boyfriend had to offer. She’d willingly give up everything around her just for another night surrounded by his friends in the same bar they’d met. Or another date spent talking about anything that came to their minds, holding the other, feeling the way they completed the other in a way no other would come closer.

But, of course, like everything Y/n seemed to care about, it all came crashing down when she needed it most. He’d gone cold on her for a couple of days. no texts or calls or random surprise visits that she’d grown to expect. After nearly a year and half of dating she felt like it all had been some kind of a fever dream, in which she’d recovered from her blinding illness and yet prayed for it all to come back to her.

When he finally came around, Y/n physically felt a part of her being ripped from her chest, with the rest fading away. ‘I don’t think this is going to work’ had been what he said with those eyes that she had always wished she could see herself through. They were always on her when she wasn’t paying attention, some soft gaze churning through the khaki green whenever she entered the room. But this time they were vacant, as though what had once occupied them had been forcefully removed, yet she didn’t have a reason as to why.

It had been a little over a month and a half since, and Y/n was beginning to doubt that the part of her that glowed in his presence would ever flicker back to life. Distracting herself with whatever she could, she’d hoped that the day would come soon that her chest no longer ached at night to be held the way she once was. Surprisingly for a 23 year old it had been hard to find something that took her attention away, seemingly the things that once had entertained her had become immature acts that she was too grown up to enjoy the way she once had. Well all except one; Drinking.

When Jasmine insisted the women go to the opening of the club in the city, Y/n had been the first to back the Saturday night outing. For the first time in a while she felt alive within the hollow shell of her body, shaking her body as she got ready. However, like always, when her satin wrapped body got out into the club setting she couldn’t have wanted to be anywhere less, turning to what the bar was offering in hopes that her mind would be changed with a taste of their spirits.

That brought her here, 4 gins and 15 vodka shots deep with more coming her way. Jasmine, Michelle and Amelia had all joined Y/n in her venture to seek emotional stability in their shot glasses, their solidarity shown the further gone they became. By the time 2am rolled around Y/n feet were aching from the multiple trips she made to the bar between dances, having enjoyed grinding against the occasional over friendly stranger and Jasmine.

“I need to pee.” Y/n’s yell towards her distracted friends was barely heard over the Usher song surrounding them, when she saw what she thought was a nod of acknowledgment from Michelle, she was off. Stumbling in her heels, that were inches too tall, in the direction of what she hoped was the bathroom. Her smile remained wide and warm, typical of an intoxicated individual, though the minute she found herself alone in the cubicle the facade cracked and her compressed sadness overflowed.

When did she become this sad, low version of herself? A couple of years ago you would never catch Y/n Y/l/n in this state over some guy. She picked herself up again within days, if not hours, not willing to allow her life to be torn apart by someone that clearly didn’t care about her. But Jay’s not like the others or some guy, her mind reminded her, though that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

She wished Jay had been just another ex. Another man that had let her down and treated her poorly, but he wasn’t. He’d taught her things about life that she was sure she’d never would have discovered had it not been for his insight. No one would ever hold her the way he would, like the times he’d sneak up behind her to wrap his arms around her, chin resting on the crown of her head. Not because she’d asked him too, but because even from the other side of the room he knew she needed him close. He knew her, at least he did.

“Pathetic.” The mumble was harsh as she stared in the mirror, her hands under the running water. Her drunken slur wasn’t audible to the few girls that were gathered around the other sinks reapplying their makeup or taking selfies, but in Y/n’s mind it was as though the word was ping ponging off the walls of her mind. A reminder dented into every passing thought.

Striding towards where she thought she had once been with her friends, her chest clenched as not a singular familiar face broke through the waves of strangers. Her intoxicated mind swore this had been the last place she had left them, but she wouldn’t bet anything against her uncanny ability to get lost. Panic seeped through her pores, as she battled with her aching legs, loud noises and the tainting of her ability to think under the influence.

Had they left her? No, why would they do that? She’d told them where she was going. Walking around the perimeter of the club, not even her heels could help hoist her up into a position that granted her a view of every face of individuals out solely based to get as sweaty as possible. Immediately, she reached for her phone, knowing without her friends she had no way of getting over the other side of the city. Clicking on all three of their contacts all she was met with was the monotone reply of the voicemail woman who was beginning to grate on her drunken self.

She wasn’t good at thinking rationally when sober, therefore you can most likely imagine the catastrophe occurring in the pits of Y/n’s mind as she tried to think of what to do when all skills were completely impaired. All she could think of to do was cry and her eyes were already on completely that task as she broke into the night air. Leaving the club, the eyes that usually lured in those around her, did the exact opposite with a stream of bitter tears rolling down her cheeks. She wanted to go home, she wish she’d never gone out in the first place.

I need to sit down probably shouldn’t have been her first priority, but their was no reasoning with her in this mood. Plopping herself on the curb of the club’s nearest sidewalk, she stared at the lit up screen that rested in her hands and tried to repress the only other thought circulating around her brain. You could always call him… It was a ridiculous thought, a completely idiotic idea… but then weren’t all of Y/n Y/l/n’s ideas?

Before any logic had invaded her momentary suggestions, the pad of her finger had pressed against her name and the block of metal was pushed against her ear. Even in her seated position, the stress had her feeling dizzy. Her eyes closing as her body shifted with each painful ring that casted out the speakers of the phone. One, two, three. Just hang up, you are making a fool of your-

“Y/n?” God had she missed the way his tongue wrapped so elegantly around her name, an extra edge as she had most definitely woken him up. The queasy feeling in her gut almost had her doubled over, though she figured not replying to the man would only end in him hanging up on her, and she’d be back stuck without any possibility of getting home.

“Hi… pal,” She falsely beamed through the tears running down her face. This was exactly why her friends took her phone every time they’d drank excessively since the breakup. Y/n had no sense of what was appropriate for their situation. Was she supposed to be civil? Neutral? Or even still angry over how it all played out. It was very rare that she kept in contact with any of her exes, this all felt so wrong. Yet the thought of Jay having answered the phone to her made her stomach flutter.

“Pal?” His chuckle was so attractive, Y/n found herself ten times hotter than she’d been surrounded by the human radiators that filled the club she’d once been in. The silence lingered, with both of them enjoying a moment that felt much more like a memory, though eventually the breath of fresh air had turned stale. “Are you- Are you okay, Y/n?”

For a moment Y/n wondered what he meant, until she heard the sound of her heavy breaths as she concealed a sob. She didn’t want him thinking that she was still hung over him and the breakup (despite this being the truth and it most likely being very obvious). She didn’t blame him if he’d moved on. She’d seen the ways his ‘friends’ watched him from afar, their eyes not even able to comprehend the complexity of the man they were gazing at. An attractive man like Jay Halstead didn’t stay single long, and that was just one of the many haunting thoughts Y/n had been fighting.

“Yes. No. Not really.” Spewing words out of her mouth, her bottom lip jutted out as another wave of sadness washed upon her eyes. She was a pathetic mess, no wonder Jay didn’t want her anymore. She’d kidded herself into believing she was good enough for Jay, a mature and well rounded adult. Then she went and behaved like this. Like a needy child. “I need your help, Jay.”

There was a bit of commotion on the other end of the line. The sudden squeak of springs that reminded Y/n of the days and nights she spent cuddling up on the lumpy mattress Jay refused to waste money on replacing. Jay must have sat up from where he had once been laying, ready like always to come and save the day.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” Her cries were deafening, not in volume, but in the way Jay felt like he could hear the pieces of her heart being threaded through the call. A desperate call of help.

“I-I went out with Jas, Amelia and Michelle to that new place in the city. You know the one that used to be that Thai restaurant you liked. And we were dancing, then I needed to pee and when I came back they were gone. They’ve disappeared, I-I don’t know where they’ve gone and I don’t know how to get how and-and…”

Her words were broken by the occasional sniffle or cry, but Jay was used to piecing together stories of drunk Y/n. Usually they didn’t involve her in such a state, more of her laughing her head off at a joke that she thought was too funny for her to finish in one breath or her yelling towards one of his friends across the room that she’d befriended simply because that was the kind of person she was. She loved him and wanted nothing more than to be loved by those he cared for. Although it was hard not to love her, such a beautiful woman with a kind soul that he had accidentally left to be shredded when he’d tried so hard to preserve it.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes, you can stay on the call if you want. If it makes you feel safer.” Y/n hummed, silencing her cries and leaning into the sleep that was calling for her to just lay down on the uneven concrete. He always wanted her to be safe, whether it was walking down the street late at night or when she was using her straighteners. She’d caught her finger once attempting to straighten out the back of her hair, and from then on he’d insisted he’d do it and did so every day, despite her insisting it was okay.

“I’ve really missed you, Jay.” It was a loose thought that had slipped out amongst a yawn. Y/n didn’t even notice the words she had said, nor their significance to the man who was already roaring down his street in protector mode.

“I’ve missed you too, Y/n.” He shouldn’t have said anything, he cursed, realising it would most likely be forgotten by morning and everything he was getting his heart caught up in would be for nothing. But he meant it, and by the grin that pulled across Y/n’s face she appreciated it even more.

True to his word, Jay had been exactly ten minutes. His truck created such a roar as it pulled in just ahead of Y/n’s body that the drunk woman found herself stirring from her daze. Opening her eyes and looking up, the figure in front of her was caught in the shadow created by his headlights, not even squinting could help Y/n detect the expression on his face.

“You came.” She sighed in relief, going to stand up but failing at the first hurdle.

“Always.” His hand reached towards her slowly until he was able to peel her off the floor, just a step into their journey towards his truck he realised that with the death traps on her feet it would take ten times longer. In a rash move, that was signalled by the squeal leaving Y/n’s lips, he had scooped his ex-lover into his arms inhaling the perfume that had once covered his entire house. He’d tried to keep it there as long as possible until the source had stopped visiting and it was replastered by the rugged nothingness of his own lonesome scent.

Placing her into the passenger seat, her head lulled in a position that made the smallest of smiles play on his lips. Leaning forward over her body, he carefully saved her from suffering neck pain the next day, resting it back on the headrest, before pulling her seatbelt over her body. For a moment, he hovered over her weak, semi-conscious body. Even with her eyes closed, he could feel the change in the energy she exerted. Whilst she had once glowed in a golden aura that embraced anyone lucky to get close enough, now it was a bleak grey that harvested from deep within her. Jay couldn’t help but feel it had all been his doing, he’d broken Y/n Y/l/n.

Pulling away, there was no way he could shake the shameful feeling, rounding the vehicle to get into his own seat. As he drove them back to her apartment, he found himself glancing at her every minute or two to make sure she was okay, though there was very little change in the 20 minute journey. Every now and then she’d shuffle deeper into the warmth of the heated seat, but then she’d fall limp again, preferring to live in the fantasy playing in her mind than what many would perceive as a nightmare, faced with an ex in a closed environment.

Having her in his car where she wasn’t rambling about things Jay didn’t 100% understand could not be replaced by any noise. Turning the radio on still left a large void of where she’d complain about the radio host or sing along to the song playing that she always knew all the lyrics to.

By the time that the car came to a halt in Y/n’s driveway, the woman had arisen from her deep nap. Her eyes wide as they took in where she was, still not even 30% sober. Jay had disappeared from his seat for a moment or two before, her door was being tugged open and she was once again offered his hand. Even with his support, taking it with a tight grip, her body still felt floppy. Her feet were moving one at a time which seemed far too interesting, Y/n leaning her body too far to watch that Jay ended up having to place her arm over his shoulders just to keep her from ending up in a pile in the middle of her front garden.

“Watch the step.” He’d instructed with care, remembering how he’d always tripped on it during the first months of their relationship. Y/n didn’t make a noise, lifting her leg dramatically to wobble on the step before jumping onto the porch. The laugh that emitted from her chest was childish, having Jay smiling as he reached for the spare key she kept in the hanging basket beside the door. “Careful.” She brushed him off, as she tiptoed through the door, still very much clinging onto Jay for support despite her display of confidence.

“I think-,” She took a deep breath, as they came to a sudden stop at the doorway of her bedroom. “I think I’m going to be sick.” As quick as the words were spoken, Y/n had peeled her way off of her ex boyfriend and went running towards the bathroom a couple doors open. It took Jay a second longer to realise what was happening, before he too was off in the direction that Y/n headed.

Breaking through the bathroom door, he didn’t hesitate to pull the hair back that was inches from meeting the path of Y/n’s vomit. The noises of regret about how much she’d been drinking echoed through the room combined with the loving words of Jay. His flat palm rubbed her back where the dress exposed her skin.

When 15 minutes had passed, with Jay’s hand still on her back, Y/n had collapsed down the side of the toilet completely free of energy.

“You can go, I’m fine.” Y/n blubbered out, waving her hand in Jay’s direction hoping it would distract him from the fact she was quite literally cuddling up against her toilet. Jay shook his head, not considering for a moment leaving her there to wallow. Instead he crouched down and found himself bringing her into his arms until she was positioned for him to carry her into the neighbouring room. “Jay I said you can go-”

“Not a chance.”

Y/n sighed but didn’t put up a fight, her head resting against his shoulder. The scent of his shirt had a similar effect to the painkillers she was needing at the moment, taking away the pain that was filling her body up to her shoulders. However, as quickly as it was there, it had disappeared. Her body had been removed from the defined muscles of his arms, melting into her mattress with a sigh of relief. Tugging her shoes off, he abandoned them somewhere she wouldn’t trip over them when she had to zip to the bathroom again before returning to her side.

“Thank you for showing up for me.” She wasn’t 100% that noise left her lips, though she knew they had moved. It was only when Jay’s hands stroked against her cheek that she was sure he was still there and this whole thing hadn’t been some strange dream. Before she could chat anymore the lightswitch on the inside of her mind had been switched and her heavy breaths stilled into a steady rhythm.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” Leaning down, Jay pressed his lips against her cheek in one longing kiss. Pulling the covers over the body before disappearing into the semi darkness of the living room. There was no way, in Jay’s mind, that he’d even consider leaving Y/n. Grabbing a few supplies he knew she’d need for the morning and leaving them on the cabinet just outside her bedroom, his body collapsed down on the couch that filled up 80% of the room.

When he had gone to sleep earlier that night, he hadn’t struggled to drift off. Though as he laid there, with the blanket that usually sat on the back of the couch over his body, his eyes couldn’t even close. Their gaze longing as he began digesting the strange hour he’d had. For the last month he’d always imagine the next time he got to lay his eyes on Y/n, but never had he envisaged this.

Some stupid part of him had thought that the split would light something new within his former girlfriend. She’d be with someone new, someone that understood her references, understood what it was like to be a 23 year old unlike his 30 year old self that had passed that stage of his life. He didn’t want to hold her back, prevent her from exploring the young years of adulthood, where she could make mistakes. Never had he predicted this.

Predicted that the very thing he’d done to protect her, was causing her the most pain.

Waking up hungover was never a good feeling. Understatement of the century. But what could possibly be worse? Y/n strolling out her bedroom to throw her guts up in the toilet to find that the ex she thought she’d imagined showing up last night spread out over her couch.

Jay had jolted awake at the sound of retching. Throwing the blanket off of him, his feet carried him to the exact same he could have been found hours before. Y/n’s body shook, throat bruising from the sensation. She could feel him watching her and had she not been distracted, she’d have kicked him out, completely embarrassed that he had to see her like she was currently. Though if what she had initially hoped were dreams, but soon realised were foggy memories were true than what he’d experienced last night had been harrowing enough.

When everything fell silent, with Y/n slung over the toilet. The pair slowly started moving again, Y/n struggling to get to her feet, whilst Jay reached out to help her. The feeling of his hands touching her skin had her jerking away, not because she didn’t enjoy it, but knew it was a temptation that would have her falling back into her old way of thinking. If he didn’t want to be with her, she couldn’t keep tricking herself into believing she could change his mind.

“Y/n-” Jay began, needing to get the plaguing thoughts off his mind. He knew that his explanation for their breakup had been short and left both of them with unspoken questions. He didn’t want her to think that he had never loved her, or for that matter still didn’t love her. Their relationship had left a Y/n size mark in his heart that couldn’t be altered for any other woman. He’d just been too afraid to admit such a feeling. Sometimes he felt like he was the younger one, unknown to an emotion as strong as what he felt for Y/n.

“We don’t need to do this, Jay. We don’t need to play happy exes. You can go, okay? I’m all good now.” She didn’t want him to go and he didn’t want to, though neither would admit it in such a confusing climate. Stood in her bathroom, with Y/n still zipped into the dress Jay didn’t feel right removing last night, they just looked at each other. They looked at how their faces had changed, Jay’s chin earning more stubble whilst Y/n had replaced her nose stud with a hoop. But their eyes looked much deeper than their external appearance, investigating into the person they’d grown to know under the social layers that kept their true selves secure and saved for the one that knew them best.

“Do you want that? Do you want me to go?” Dropping her head to stare at her bare feet that still felt the imprints of her heels, she kicked the bottom of her foot against the fluffy matt. She knew with questions like that, his eyes were like truth traps that would draw out the words she’d rather keep close to her chest.

“I-,” She sighed, tripping at the first hurdle. “-Don’t know.” The answer wasn’t a definite no. For that very reason Jay felt his hopes skyrocket into him launching forward until his hands resting on her cheeks bringing the beauty that was a permanent feature on her face to be fully admired by his green eyes.

“If I wanted to leave, I would have already. Because you are wrong, we do need to do this. We need to talk and I’m sorry I haven’t done it sooner.” Y/n had imagined this moment, where she finally got a chance for some closure. And yet as she stood in front of the man that held all the answers she could ever want, she was hesitant. Taking a step back, his touch fell away from her yet the magnetic field was still strong enough that Y/n had to push harder to walk around the man she’d been waiting for. Strolling back into the living room, she took a seat on what had been Jay’s impromptu bed for the evening.

Jay was slow on his approach to the woman, grasping the drink that he’d prepared earlier that day and the tablets he’d discovered in the corner cupboard, he placed them down in front of her before he perched himself to her left. Thanking him with the nod of her head, she grabbed them and downed the painkillers in hopes that her headache would subside.

“You know,” She began as she washed down the small white tablets, “You never actually told me why you broke up with me.” It had been something that had been bugging her the entire time. It wasn’t like she could beat herself up for saying something or doing something or making him feel a certain way, as not once had it been revealed in the conversation they shared the day it all came to an end.

“Normally I like to back myself when it comes to women,” Jay breathed, knowing Y/n was about to accuse him of avoiding the subject but he was getting there. “But from the moment I found myself falling for you I knew I was punching. I mean what kind of 20 something year old with their prime still ahead of them wants to get with some boring old 30 year old. I thought you were crazy for even considering giving me a chance, but then I realised that was just who you were. You didn’t care about what your friends said or mind for that matter, you just wanted me and that was enough for you. But I guess I felt like that wasn’t fair, on you I mean. There is an entire world out there that hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting Y/n Y/l/n because she’d shacked up with her boyfriend. I felt like I was weighing you down and as someone that loved you- loves you I couldn’t watch you drowning. I had to set you free.” Y/n felt confused, adored and angry all at the same time, not one time had she considered what it felt like to be Jay, dating a woman that was quite a bit younger than him. But it seemed that he’d thought deeply about what I was thinking, or at least what he thought I was thinking.

“That wasn’t your decision to make. You could have talked to me about it. I’m in love with you, Jay. I’m in love with the way you love me, I’m in love with the way you make me feel, I’m in love with you and that was enough for me. And let me just say, if I wanted to live that life you were so adamant I wanted I would still go out and live it, just with my boring old 30 year old boyfriend besides me,” She giggled humorlessly at how the entire situation had ended up so twisted, so chaotic. “I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore without you. For the first time in my life, with you, I had some kind of path. I had ambitions, I had goals, I had belief in myself because of you. You have always made me a better person, why would I want anything more?”

“You say that now, but in 5, 10, 15 years when you are looking back I don’t want you to regret anything. I don’t want you to feel like you never got to be a young adult because our relationship has forced you to mature.” Jay’s voice was raising not in anger but passion, he had so much he could say but nothing seemed enough.

“Have you met me?” Y/n turned to face him, grabbing his face, resisting the urge to laugh at the way his cheeks squished together. “No one can make me do anything, I’m the most stubborn person on this planet, you know that. The decisions I make are my decisions, and I promise you the only regrets I will have in the future is if you leave this house without knowing that I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you, Jay. This was never just a bit of fun. This was real. I love you.”

Suddenly Jay’s hand was on the nape of her neck, and then that was when the couple’s lips reunited in a kiss filled with so much tension, that Y/n could have sworn her house shook slightly. Jay’s hands pulled her closer and closer until she legitimately sat upon his lap, hands on his face brushing against his stubble. His own hand gripping her waist missed the way her body begged for more of his touch. Their lips were soft, though the longer the kiss continued the rougher it became. It was only when the tingle in her top lip became too strong to keep going, that Y/n drew back, head resting against his own.

Their breaths were deep, mindling in the small gap between them.

“For what it’s worth,” Jay swooshed strands of her hair that he’d grabbed behind her ear once again, “I love you and want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you too.” The smile that they shared was made of the exact same intensity, that Jay could see the way the kiss had repaired the once broken bulb that had been blown when they’d parted. Now she was glowing in a way he’d never seen her flourish.

This is where they deserved to be, where they needed to be. They’d tried the whole apart thing for long enough for them to conclude that they both belonged there, holding one another, for as long as they lived.

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apollostears · 2 years

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𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫₀︎₃︎

♘︎ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 + 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯 [ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐯 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 ], 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚

♘︎ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩. 𝐲/𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞.

♘︎ 𝐰𝐜: 𝟏.𝟎𝟓𝐤

♘︎ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♘︎ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @desiray562 @gabzlovesu @reneeslay @emonaculate @po3ticb3auty

「︎ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 + 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 + 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 」︎

YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH GETO HAD DEFINITELY TAKEN A TURN. And it was not for the better. In the three weeks since the restaurant, Geto had fucked you a total of four times and each of those times ended with either one of you leaving immediately after. Geto no longer stayed to cuddle with you or even wait for round two and you understood enough to know that you should be moving the same way he was. And you were. But why did it suck so bad?

It wasn’t until you had heard from Utahime, a mutual friend of yours, that Geto was fucking someone else, that you really understood your place now. She assumed it was you she had heard the other night at the boys apartment whilst she helped Choso with an assignment. And that definitely fucking sucked.

“That man has been checking you out since we got here. Please tell us that you see what we see.” Wendy begged you one day during a study session with the girls.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but turned your head slightly to your left to see what she was referring to. Sure enough, there was a man with two other guys and when your eyes met his, he sent you a smirk and a wink, maintaining that eye contact with you.

The intensity of his stare had you turning your head, flustered with heat. A move that was not missed by the four women sitting with you. “Oh, he’s coming over!” Shoko gushed a little too loudly for your liking. Her loud admission had you wanting the library floor to swallow you whole.

“Act natural.” Utahime sharply whispered before whipping open a history textbook.

You couldn’t understand how you landed with such an odd group of girls, but you were thankful for them. Weird antics and all.

“Hey, my apologies for approaching you ladies like this.” The man now stood next to you, his smell drifting across the table gently.

Fuck he smelt good. And his voice was good?!

“It’s no problem. . .” Mei Mei was the first to speak as she searched for his name.

“Kenji. And what are your names?”

Wendy gave him a look and a smile. A smile that you knew meant she was about to meddle in something. “Well Kenji, I can tell you that her name is Y/n and that she’s 100% single! And available Saturday night.” You almost missed that last part but Kenji definitely didn’t as you caught him smirk at you.

“Imma beat yo ass Wendy. You can’t be exposing me like that.” You scolded her, paying no real attention to the man staring you down.

A deep chuckle interrupted your scolding and you began to realize just how attractive this man was. And how stupid you’d be not to engage with him.

“Is it okay Ms. Y/n, if you and I go on a date Saturday night?”

You hesitated in giving a response. Rightfully so as you had just met this man, but with the looks you were getting from the girls, you knew your answer.

“Yes, that’s okay Kenji. However, I would like for us to meet before then just as a preliminary meetup.”

The smile that graced his features should’ve told you all you needed to know about him. But you couldn’t tell trouble from a mile away when it looked like that.

“Anything you want, angel.”

Kenji Nakamura, a name so sweet for the devil.

GETO WAS AWARE THAT WHAT HE WAS DOING WAS MESSY, but having Jade under him was something he’d truly begin to love. She never gave him attitude or challenged him when he asked her to do anything. She was completely submissive; the total opposite of Y/n. As he pushed Jade’s legs back and fucked deeper into her, Geto could say that there was nothing that could get him roped back into Y/n. Messing with her for too long had made him soft. It had him actually considering a relationship for once and that was not a part of his brand at all.

“You’re really good at this.” Jade’s unwarranted response was given as she gathered her clothes to put back on.

Geto simply watched her naked form become clothed by the items she wore on her way over. It was six pm and he had her since three that afternoon. The tattoo artist gave a hum in response, too lost in thought to even bother coming up with a cocky response to her obvious observation.

“You don’t feel bad?” He did ask, just as Jade had slid on her shoes.

She turned to look at him, confusion etched onto her face as she attempted to make a bun with her braids. “About?”

Geto shifted in his spot on the large bed, suddenly feeling like the purpose behind his question was too vulnerable. “Fuckin’ the same guy as your best friend.”

Jade laughed with indifference as a shrug came over her shoulders. “Why would I? She wasn’t dating you and, technically, we were almost fucking before you met her.”

“So, what’s with the sneaking around then?”

He knew he was asking too many questions for someone who wasn’t supposed to care but he was curious to understand Jade’s blatant willingness to sleep with him. Knowing just how much time Y/n spent with him.

“Fuck buddies are supposed to be on the low, Suguru. Or did you forget that?” Jade held a condescending look on her face, her hand on the door handle to leave.

Hearing his name on her lips made him feel ill and Geto knew he needed to shut that down immediately. With a roll of his eyes, he stood in all his naked glory and headed towards his bathroom.

“It’s Geto and you know your way out. I’ll call you if I need you.” Were the last words he shared with her for the night before shutting his bathroom door.

As he showered away the remnants of his relations with Jade, Geto began to wonder if this was a mistake. While he knew that his feelings for Y/n were one sided, something told him that fucking her best friend would not settle well with her.

But who was he to care about what she thought.

They were only fucking after all.

NOTE. oh yeah, shit's getting messy. the real plot is only beginning! how we feeling about jade now? predictions on kenji’s character??

𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @brownmochi @knjkitten @sweeneyblue1 @gabzlovesu @desiray562 @namjoonswifeyy @nyxeclipse @rubinocore @uniquelybeautiful @somerandompipzsxh @dabilovesme @histarean @hannas16 @caribbeanwifey19

#geto x black!reader #geto x reader #mayawrites #anime x black!reader #jjk x black!reader #college au!jjk #jjk college au #anime #black!reader #ambw imagines #jjk x reader #𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 ━︎ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

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elfwriter1088 · 4 years

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Old Guard (Chapter 1)

A/n: 2 chapters in one day! This is all that I got for now. Again, I blame @badassbaker for getting me to post my story up. Go check out their blog! (They’re so AMAZING! I can’t stress them enough).

Disclaimer: Again, I don’t own any of the Old Guard characters: they belong to their respectful owners. I only own those that you would not recognize from the comics (i.e. Nyx, Erik, etc)

---(chapter 1)---

Upon setting foot on Moroccan soil, Nyx was quick to get directions to the hotel that the others were going to gather. Preferring to walk to the destination, Nyx was treated to the luxury of sightseeing of a whole new different world far from what the woman was used to seeing. Merchants trying to sell their goods to those that passed by their stalls; children laughing and running around while playing with each other. Nyx smiled at the sight while making sure to keep her old military scarf covering her hair from falling out of place. Armed only with an old army issued pack slung over her shoulder while a small duffel bag held her xyili, a couple of SOG tactical knives and her ‘hidden blades’, she ventured her way to the meeting place.

Once checked into the hotel, she made her way to where she was sure to meet with the others. At the door, she raised her hand to knock but paused. She hesitated in knocking right away...why? She was going to be amongst her friends, her team...her family. Releasing a soft sigh, she then proceeded to knock three times. She eagerly awaited as to whom would answer the door. Biting at her lower lip, she didn’t have to wait long before the door opened up and…

“Hi…” she greeted the person on the other side of the door.

Nicky grinned as he leaned in to kiss at her cheek before giving her a big hug. He was pretty fond of the petite woman ever since he met her and Andy all those years ago and has never once been at more ease than with Nyx and Joe. He had wondered if she was going to show up at all, given that Book had to call all of them to meet here; Joe and himself had arrived first before Booker and Andy came to the room not even a half hour ago.

“È bello vederti, Nyx. Com'è stato il viaggio qui??” he asked once they pulled away.

*It is good to see you, Nyx. How was the trip out here?*

“Lungamente ... ricordami di sculacciare Book per avermi fatto usare la scusa dell '"emergenza familiare" per l'altro lavoro. Spero che valga la pena usarlo per fare questo lavoro..”

*Long...remind me to spank Book for making me use the 'family emergency' excuse for the other job. I hope it was worth using that to do this job*

Nicky laughed at the comment as he led Nyx to where the others were sitting around and awaiting her arrival. Joe was the first to spot her and rushed over to bear hug the other brunette.

“آه ، نيكس الصغير. فاتنا وجودك معنا في المنزل. آمل أنك لست غريب الأطوار على بعض الحلوى ، عزيزي” Joe said as he lifted the newly-arrived woman up in the air a couple of inches.

*Ah, little Nyx. We missed having you stay with us at the house. I hope you're not too cranky for some sweets, dear one*

“You’re too kind, sir. I’m sure that you saved whatever delicious treat you have from Andy eating it,” Nyx replied back, surprised that everyone wanted to test out how fluent Nyx could get with it.

Once Joe pulled away from her arms, she glanced over to see the woman in question clearly enjoying some baklava.

“Ελπίζω πραγματικά αυτό που νομίζω ότι είναι, Andromache.” she glanced at the other woman with a soft smile.

*I really hope that's what I think it is, Andromache*

“You know I can’t speak our native tongue for shit nowadays, Nyx. Stop showing off and get some of this,” Andy replied back, making sure to not choke on the flavorful treat she had in her hands while passing one to her oldest friend and comrade.

Nyx took the piece offered to her and took a small bite. She closed her eyes to pinpoint what she thought was in the dessert.

“East Turkey...however...there’s anise in this. There’s only one place that makes it...and she has Persian roots,” Nyx remarked as she opened her eyes and saw Booker looking at her with a soft glance in his eyes.

“Pay up. Nyx always seems to find that one detail that everyone misses,” the Frenchman replied with a chuckle.

“What was the bet? Andy guessing where it’s from? How much?” Nyx asked, one eyebrow quirked up in piqued interest.

“Cinq cents ... et tu viens de me rendre riche à nouveau, ma chérie” he simply replied back with a smirk only reserved for her.

*Five hundred...and you just made me rich again, sweetheart*

“Oh per favore. Nyx, ha bisogno di scopare. Sono sicuro che voi due potete trovare Booker una donna che gli farà una bella scopata”

*Oh please. Nyx, he needs to get laid. I'm sure that you two can find Booker a woman to give him a good fuck*

Nicky’s comment had Nyx laughing her butt off as she felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. This was one thing she missed being in Nicky’s presence--the Italian knew how to get her to laugh off a bad situation with a joke or two.

“Sai ... potrebbe non aver bisogno di trovare una donna della notte se continua a essere tutto scontroso intorno a noi mentre parliamo nella tua lingua madre, amore mio” Joe replied as he came to hug Nicky from behind the Italian.

*You know...he might not need to find a woman of the night if he continues to be all grumpy around us while we speak in your native tongue, my love*

Nyx, unlady-like, snorted at Joe’s remark; her sides were starting to ache from the constant laughter she was experiencing at the moment. Booker gave a dirty look to the other two men before he rose to his feet and went to give the newly arrival a hug of his own.

“Si seulement ils savaient ...” he whispered in her ear.

*If only they knew...*

“Je ne le passerais pas devant eux pour savoir ... Andy ... peut-être pas.”

*Would not put it past them to know...Andy...maybe not.*

“Ok, enough with the teasing. So...how do we meet Copley?” the leader announced, breaking up anymore time for testing out Nyx’s vast knowledge of languages and getting to the reason they all assembled.

After the meetup with Copley, the group was getting ready for the assignment. Most of the small details were taken care of and now was time for catching up on some needed sleep before diving right into the mission. Nyx was sitting on the railing in the balcony, sipping on a cup of tea that was made by Nicky prior to him going to bed a couple hours ago. Dressed in a pair of shorts and a baggy sweater that allowed one shoulder to peek out, Nyx’s eyes were hidden behind a pair of big framed glasses while her hair was piled up in a topknot that looked messy, but intentional. In her hand was a SMOK RPM 40 vape mod--yeah, she had her vices, like the others have theirs; however, one of hers was smoking. She gave up on cigarettes, which was the hardest vice to give up after having smoked them for over a hundred years and forty years. Drinking...Nyx knew that both Andy and Booker drink to forget of their ‘lonely’ states of mindset of being without their families. Nyx would know better, she had to watch her kids and grandkids and their kids grow old and die. Raphael and Erik, although young in her eyes, were just among one of the last remaining descendents still alive and in somewhat good health.

Taking a puff and blowing a smoke ring into the somewhat stifling night air, Nyx’s eyes closed to take in the sensation and breathe in the calmness of the night before a big assignment. Although, this is how Nyx always would do prior to one of the ‘big ones’, as she would call assignments that would take a lot out of her emotionally and mentally. She was so engrossed in the serenity that she wasn’t paying attention to movement behind her until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her waist, making sure to keep her on the railing and not have her fall and hurt herself. Nyx literally jumped in the air a bit, grabbing at the arms and holding onto dear life.

“Détends-toi, chérie. Je ne voulais pas te faire peur, ma reine.” His husky voice caused echoes of a shiver to run down her spine, sparking desire and lust throughout her entire body. *Relax, sweetheart. Did not mean to scare you, my queen.*

“You know I wasn’t a queen, Book…” she replied back as she turned her head to the side, seeing hazel-muted green eyes looking at her with a soft side that was only for her.

“You are to me, Alexina.”

The petite woman slowly maneuvered her body around so that she was facing Booker. Her topknot flopped to the side as Nyx tilted her head a little bit while she looked to the Frenchman.

"And what is that you see in me that justifies you calling me such a title, Sebastian?" Nyx asked; her voice gave away hints of insecurity and low esteem to being called a queen when Nyx knew that she was not one.

Booker was a little taken back of her using his given name from birth, but once again: this was Nyx. She usually fell back to using anyone's given name once in a while. Here, she was using it as a way to show her true colors with him. After all, she found him and mentored him when the group all dreamt of him. One of his hands reached up to where the hair tie held her hair and took it out, allowing her dark brown hair tumble down to her shoulders in loose waves. He carded his fingers through her hair, causing her to close her eyes and lean her head towards his hand.

"Is mian liom go bhfeicfeá cé chomh hálainn atá tú faoi láthair, a ghrá. le gruaig seo silky agus lush, déanann tú gach scéal faoi mhná de do chuid ama cuma plain i gcomparáid leatsa ag an nóiméad seo." He simply stated as he stared at her. *I wish you could see how beautiful you are right now, my love. With hair this silky and lush, you make all stories of women of your time look plain compared to you at this moment.*

Nyx opened her eyes, confusion on her face at his words. Ah, there was a language she never learned, Booker mused to himself as he took in the newly found knowledge. He smirked as he brushed her cheek with his other hand.

"Ní bhfuair tú aon smaoineamh cad atá á rá agam anois, an bhfuil? Bhuel, is faoiseamh é sin. Ba mhaith liom a bheith trína chéile dá dtuigfeá cad é a dhéanann tú domsa, Sparta beag." *You got no idea what I'm saying right now, do you? Well, that's a relief. I would be upset if you understood what it is that you do to me, little Sparta.*

"Ω, ξέρω τι είπες, Σεμπάστιαν. Αυτά είναι εύκολα χρήματα εκεί. Αλλά, και πάλι, τα ελληνικά είναι τόσο ξένα για σας που είναι σαν να οδηγώ ένα ποδήλατο μετά από τόσο καιρό για μένα. Αν μόνο ήξερες πόσο μεγάλο μέρος της καρδιάς μου ανήκει σε εσένα, πώς όλα περιστρέφονται γύρω σου και ότι θα πεθάνω αν με πάρεις τόσο ξαφνικά." Nyx said as she raised her hands to cup his face. *Oh I know what you said, Sebastian. That's easy money right there. But, then again, Greek is so foreign to you that it's like riding a bicycle after so long for me. If only YOU knew how much of my heart belongs to you, how everything revolves around you and that I'd die if you were taken from me so sudden.*

Booker leaned his head forward, closing his eyes as he felt her forehead against his and let out a sigh of content. He could feel her breath mix with his as his other hand grasped at her hip gently.

"Coming to bed?" He asked softly.

"I'll be there in a bit. Unless you can convince me otherwise," she replied back, her voice hoarse from holding back all the emotions she was feeling at that moment.

Booker only smirked before closing the gap, ghosting his lips against her before pulling back slowly. Opening his eyes, he could see Nyx staring at him with a sense of admiration and tenderness only reserved for him. He then grabbed at the back of her thighs, lifting her up from the railing; this caused Nyx to scramble to wrap her arms around his neck and shoulders to prevent falling out of his arms. He chuckled as he walked them back inside the room, closing the door with his foot behind them.

#old guard #fanfic

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neon-caskets · 4 years

Text

No more, no less

Three X Reader from 6 Underground.

~~Three wants a relationship with the reader, but to her, the relationship is just friends with benefits. The reader is the Vegas decoy, and this brings Three’s feelings to the surface~~

TW// Blood, death, swearing (it’s a Ryan Reynolds movie, this was to be expected lmao), Four being a smooth-talker, unprotected sex, oral sex (both parties receiving), my mediocre writing lmao

Requested by anonymous: “Can you please write a Three x Reader for Six underground where he's jealous and wants a real relationship but readers just wants friends/co worker with benefits. Thank you so much! Love your blog!”

I love this idea! Hope this was something like what you wanted

(Y/n = Your Name, h/c = hair color, e/c = eye color, s/c = skin color, you get the idea lol)

“One, I swear to God, if even one of those gross old men put so much as a finger on me because of this getup...” You muttered as you stepped out of the private jet’s bathroom in your outfit. Red lingerie with intricate lace and stockings. “Well?” You pushed h/c hair behind her ears, e/c eyes avoiding the group out of awkwardness.

The other ghosts gave you a quick glance over, Three’s eyes hovering longer than they should have. None of the others knew about your secret evening meetups, what Three and Eight did in the dead of night when the two of you were alone. They, You, if you wanted to remain on the team, needed to keep it this way. He eventually pulled his eyes away from the lingerie that hugged every curve of your s/c skin.

“Do I look like a lady hired to please the four generals?” You rephrased, raising your brows.

“Definitely,” Five nodded quickly. “You really look the part...” She trailed off as a whistle interrupted her.

Four whistled at you and everyone rolled their eyes. One shook his head, “You’ve got no subtlety.”

“Because I need subtlety,” The blond-haired British parkour expert retorted. He gave you a blink-and-you-miss-it wink and commented, “You look good. Really good.”

“Keep it in your pants, Four,” Seven remarked, tossing you a red dress that would cling to your skin. “I’ll go set up a sniper nest.” He left quickly after, duffel bag with a sniper rifle inside in his hand.

You slid the dress on over your head and asked Four, “Zip me up?”

As the others busied themselves for the job, Four placed one hand on your hip from behind and the other on the zip of your dress, whispering so softly that only you could hear, “Honestly, Eight, I could, but really I just want to take it off you again.” Four did love to be suggestive.

You didn’t notice the look of sheer jealousy being shot towards you and Four from Three. He was barely able to bite his tongue as he put on his disguise and prosthetics and hid away his handgun.

Four knew to behave and zipped up your dress. He passed you a smile that reminded you just how hot you looked right now in your sexy little number, and then he left to prepare for his part of the job too.

Three watched as you left the jet and headed towards the Las Vegas hotel and racetrack. To say he was jealous was an understatement.

~~A little later~~

You tagged along with the other ladies heading to the hotel room of the Turgistan generals. It was your job to find the one that knew the most about where the brother of the Turgistan dictator was being held, get him away from the others, and keep him busy whilst Two and Three cleared the room and neutralized potential threats.

The generals weren’t exactly eye candy. Three was sweet and, as you’d discovered, definitely hit the spot. These four older men were a little less pleasant. When the leading lady introduced the group as a ‘gift’ to the generals, you tried not to gag.

There were six ladies including you, so you hopped onto the glass table at the side of the lush hotel suite and held the knuckle of your index finger between your lipstick red lips as the other women started showing off their lingerie in a strip show for the generals. You crossed one leg over the other as you observed not the scene of ladies hired to please these men, but the room itself. With a keen ear, you heard one of the generals tell another in a thick Turgistan accent, “What a reward for what you know! Do you think we would be getting this reward if you weren’t so knowledgable on our leader’s brother?”

In their racy lingerie, the ladies split up, two to two men, one to another, and you hopped down from the table and placed yourself in front of the man who you decided probably knew the most. A false smile crawled over your lips, but a joyous one formed on his face. You led him to the enormous bedroom, leaving your red high heels outside the door as a sign for Two and Three when they arrived.

Both you and the general looked back to the door when you heard the other women shriek and someone’s body hit the floor, but you distracted the general by holding his face in one hand and making him look at you, “Sounds like they’re having a good time.”

Fuck this. You internally died as the general started loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Seriously, fuck this.

The door burst open, and Two and Three strode in. You sighed in relief before grabbing the general by the tie, tightening it, and shoving his face down against the bed as Three aimed a gun at him and Two handcuffed the ladies to the furniture in the living room.

“Thank God you got here when you did. There was not a chance in hell I was stripping for this dude,” You told Three, who smiled proudly. Then you gave your attention to the general, “You’re the last living general. Tell us everything you know, or we kill you too.”

“It’s too late,” He began shakily. “The deal is done. Two tons of gas, delivered by tomorrow.”

Then One, disguised as what you guessed was meant to be a biker, walked in. “Where are you keeping Rovach’s brother? Three seconds, be specific. Talk! Three... two...”

“Ni Hai Tower. Hong Kong. Penthouse.”

“... One.”

Three put a bullet through the general’s head and he fell to the floor.

“Why did Two and Three get to be tennis players and I got this?” You asked One, gesturing to your outfit.

One stared at Two then Three, “Tennis players? That’s what those disguises are?” He sighed, shaking his head, walking away.

“Your costume’s stupid too, motorcycle dick!” Three called after him. You sighed heavily, hanging your head back tiredly. You followed Two and Three out to help them handcuff the other women to the furniture and drag the bodies of the generals into a neat pile in the corner.

Two then, graciously, told you that she was able to carry on from here and that your shoes would trail the blood out, so she took over for you. This gave you the opportunity to explore the hotel suite for a while. It was huge. Everything was expensive. In fact, it was its own enormous, fancy floor. You heard Two shout an ‘Au Revoir’ to you and Three, then she left to find One and the others.

Three startled you when he opened the door from a lounge area on the opposite side of the floor to where the generals had been killed. You noticed the thoughtful look in his eyes, like he was lost in his own mind, and you gently took his hand, “You okay?” He sighed before cupping your face with his free hand, pressing his lips to yours. This was how many of your interludes began, he would lead the way and you’d follow, but this time felt like he was leading down a different road. One that wasn’t as clear to see down. one that you couldn’t pinpoint on a map. You pulled back, “What’s going on, Three?”

“I didn’t like the way Cuatro was looking at you. He was practically undressing you with his eyes.” Three kissed your palms and continued, “And then you get sent here to be the decoy for the general? Dressed like this? It’s enough to make any man go mad, mi amor.”

You felt your chest become heavy, as if your heart started pumping liquid lead instead of blood. One recruited you because of your ability to read people, and right now, Three was an open book. You knew this was a possible side effect. You knew it was a risk. But Three was addictive, enticing. You had him once as a late-night hookup and from there you were hooked. The nights became regular meetings, in your trailer back in the Californian desert, or in his. The casual conversations when the others weren’t around slowly became conversations about what your lives were like before faking your deaths, personal things. The friendly touches when you passed, small things like a hand to a shoulder, started to feel like they sparked things in each of you; for you, they meant you were overdue a hookup with Three, but for him, they were his feelings for you blossoming. It was as you’d feared; he wanted this to be more. He wanted a relationship.

“Three... we can’t. I just... I just don’t feel the same,” You told him honestly, deciding that prolonging this would hurt him more, and you cared enough not to do that to him. Three’s eyes glazed as he processed your words. And soft as you’d tried to be, cushioning the blow that you knew would still hurt, you still felt guilt. “Three, I’m sorry.”

He dropped your hand gently, his fingers trailing out of yours slowly, hesitantly. “It’s alright.” But he was forlorn, uncertain. His eyes met yours and he then told you, “I found the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life, if you’re interested.”

A small smile crept up on you. “Sounds fun.”

~~Shortly after~~

One of Three’s hands was next to your head, the other against your jaw as you kissed, your back up against the wall. It was heated, passionate, needy. Three's lips locked onto your collarbone, sucking a grouping of hickeys onto your skin, kissing each one that he made. You gave Three a slight push back as you unzipped your dress and it pooled at your feet. You kicked off your heels and Three's eyes raked over her body.

"Fuck," He mumbled into another kiss, "You're gorgeous." He pulled his shirt off and dropped his pants, lifting you by the thighs towards the bed.

Three's lips met yours for another deep kiss as his hands reached behind you to unclip your bra. It was thrown to the floor quickly, and Three's mouth found your breasts, kissing a trail between them, tongue swirling around your nipple as his hand fondled the other. You arched your back as you gradually became more and more turned on. You ran your hands up Three's muscular chest as he toyed with your nipples and left love-bites across your chest.

You reached down, hand finding Three's boxers. His breath hitched in his throat as you palmed him and he got harder. Your other hand dug into his back as he sucked and nibbled the sweet spot on your collar.

Three sat up and hurriedly shuffled out of his shorts, not wanting to wait another second. He hooked his fingers to your panties and looked up at you for confirmation. You nodded and lifted your hips as Three slid your panties off of you, leaving you both totally exposed to each other.

Three sat between your legs, trailing two fingers down your inner thigh, watching the way your brows softened and your bottom lip was clamped between your teeth. You were already so wet for him. He held the apex of your thigh as he brought his head down to lick up your soaked womanhood, eliciting a desirous moan from you beneath him. Three ever so lightly kissed your clit and you gasped in response. Every kiss and lap of his tongue had a raw intensity, yet it numbed your mind. He ran one finger down your slit before pushing two inside, curling up as he continued licking at you, lapping up the wetness.

You writhed under Three as he pumped two fingers into you and continued to send tingles of electricity through your core as a coil of heat started to pool there, waiting to unravel.

And then he pulled out, licking his fingers clean of the shiny wetness that they had sustained. Slowly, he kissed from your navel, all across your stomach and chest, leaving a few more hickeys before molding his lips to yours again. It was like you both were meant for this, lips fitting together so perfectly, bodies moving in sync with each other.

Three teasingly rubbed his hard cock up and down your slick folds, loving the way you mewled and whined out his name, practically begging. Your fingers dug into Three’s back as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, breathing you in as he slowly pushed himself into you, stretching you open, filling you with warmth.

You scraped one hand up Three's back as a moan flew from your lips. Three trailed one of his hands up your other arm which was by your head and laced his fingers with yours as he thrust into you. Three's eyes flickered up to yours for a split second and a smile blossomed on his face, absorbing each detail on your face, lower lip between your teeth in pleasure. To him, you looked like a goddess. Glowing. He then took your lips against his, kissing you deeply as he started to become sloppy in his thrusts from tiring.

You held her arms around Three's neck, legs wrapped around him, making his cock hit your g-spot with each thrust. You arched your back again as the knot of heat that made a home in your abdomen grew. "I'm gonna come..."

"Come for me," Three said huskily into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling lightly. A few thrusts after and the heat in you burst and you came all over Three's cock.

Three was close to his own climax and pulled out quickly, sitting on his knees. You crawled over to him and left a feather-light kiss on the tip of his cock. You pumped him a few times, licked up his full length, and took him in your mouth. You bobbed up and down on him. One of Three’s hands tugged on your hair as you took his full length in your mouth, squeezing his balls, earning a moan from Three.

"I'm close..." Three moaned as you continued bobbing on him, swirling your tongue across the head, licking away leaking pre-cum. When you felt his cock twitch in your mouth, you took him to the back of your throat, nearly gagging from the size, and Three came. You swallowed every drop, and Three fell to the bed beside you.

Three took you in his arms, both of you melting into another kiss. More gentle than the ones you just shared. It was filled with warmth. Three rubbed circles onto your hip with his thumb, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You know," You began with a smile, fingers lightly tracing the curvature of Three's collarbone, "I have a theory."

"Oh yeah?" Three arched a brow, a small smile tugging his lips upward as he softly trailed his fingers up and down the small of your back. "What's that?"

"One only made the no-fucking rule because he's too much of an asshole to get laid."

Warm laughter filled the quiet. You liked the noise. Three nodded, his eyes finding your e/c ones. "Yeah, that is a good theory." One of Three's hands held your face as his expression softened, "What do we do now? We can't let the others know about this, can we?"

You shook your head, "No, no we can't." You sighed and lay your hands on Three's chest, "But maybe... maybe we could do this again? Not as a couple, I don’t think being a couple in this line of work is a good idea. If something happened to one of us and the other was left behind...” You sighed heavily, burying your head further into Three’s chest. “But I think we can keep having these little meetings, can’t we?”

“Of course we can,” Three nodded, humming into your hair. “But can I ask you one thing?”

You murmured a soft yes.

“Can we tell each other our names at least?”

Your reply was an even softer agreement this time as sleep tried to overpower you.

Three smiled, “I’m Javier. Javi.”

And before you drifted into a slumber protected by the strong arms enveloping you, you replied, “I’m Y/n.”

#Three #xreader #threexreader #6 underground #three x reader #six underground #6U #smut #fluff #fanfic #angst #lemon #fan fiction #jealously #jealous #Four is a smooth talker #Vegas baby

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cowboyjen68 · 2 years

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Hi! I really liked reading through your blog- it felt really comforting but was also very helpful and informative! I have a question though as a lesbian who has been out for around 4 years-

All of my friends are straight, I grew up in a conservative town with absolutely no out women, and I only met my first out queer woman two years after I came out myself. In college I had the opportunity to meet other queer women, but somehow it didn’t feel like the community I always wanted.

I felt like I had to “prove” my sexuality by hooking up or dating, even though I didn’t want to. I acknowledge that some of this probably came from my own insecurity over my sexuality, but there were undeniable moments when my sexuality was dismissed or denied due to my “boringness” or unwillingness to “compete” for sexual/romantic attention.

I’m now in a really (really :)) good relationship and living on my own away from everyone I know (good and bad). But I still hesitate to meet and befriend other queer women because of the “competition” and pressure I have experienced in those relationships. My question is: was my experience just a case of right idea, wrong people? Or is this a common thing? Either way, where do I find other queer women and develop the kind, supportive friendships I want to have?

I kind of know what you are talking about. In college many of my friends were much more eager to "prove" they were not straight (many were or were bi --just sowing their wild oats before marrying men or truly unsure and college was the place and time to explore that). while I was more eager to prove I was definitely straight.

In my early 20's we (my friend group of mostly gay men and lesbians) were much more about having fun and enjoying finally being around other gay people to be competitive. My older lesbians friends had already all dated each other. Haha.

I don't think it is pervasive in the lgbt+ community, at least not in my experience. I would say 70 percent of my friends are lesbian so perhaps that dynamic is different than the community as a whole. But I really don't know.

Youth and the college atmosphere is not translatable to the adult word. In college is is accepted, even encouraged to experiment and be more open to dating many as opposed to looking to settle down. Once we graduate we are often pressured (almost too much) to find ONE and commit. for a long term relationship, whether we are ready or not. This race to find the ONE can mean more competition and jealousy for sure.

I understand the hesitation to make friends with people who are only around to prove they are more "queer' than you or others. Sexuality is not a competition. Take heart, you will find people like you who also want meaningful friendships with people they are most like. My best friend is a butch. My college best friend is a gay man. My closest on line friend is a lesbian. I am friends with my first girlfriend, the one time fling and the woman I loved the most out of all, but we are not together.

IT was not always that way. Finding other women to relate to AND figuring out what women click with your personality as friends takes some time and energy. You will grow to understand who is most like you and what women most enhance your life with their friendship. Until you find them it is quite okay to not devote a lot of energy to those who just don’t fit.

I hope that you find that group of women who hold other women up instead of pushing against each other. We all deserve that and women are capable of forming amazing bonds and holding so much power when we have each other’s backs.

To find others. There are women’s music festival and women centered events in many places. On line there are FB pages for most states and counties (there is a queer women of Iowa and Lesbians of Iowa FB). I am guessing you might have something like that. If you aren’t on FB the meetup app will often list women centered or lesbian book clubs or coffee meetings.

Volunteer in places like animal shelters, wildlife rehab centers or women’s health clinics. Or attend non profit events and fundraisers. Within and around many of these places you will find the lesbians LOL.

If you can’t find women, create a book club or your own coffee meet up. Use the local library and they will often help you advertise. Or you can use the Meetup app. Like we say in Iowa “Build it and they will come”.

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cooltastrophe · 5 years

Text

so my group is back to urban fantasy game and damn yall we had a hell of a session I’m gonna spare y’all and put this under a cut bc it’s long but it’s a truly epic tale

So my character has been crushing on this fae since this time last season. Crush Fae owns NYC’s best goblin market and also keeps Asshole Fae captive. Asshole Fae is this nasty guy who seduces women and steals their names. I rescued two of his victims last year as part of baby’s first goblin market adventure. Also I’ve made it clear to the GMs that I intend to kill him.

Anyway this year Crush Fae has decided that 5 members of our organization are their Champion. They explain to us we have to go through a chain of trading things in order to pick up an item they need. Our party is: half of the organization’s HR division, one (1) Shooty Boy, and an actual circus clown who believes he’s on a reality show. Rich Guy With Parent Issues (but not the ones you’d imagine) is on HR with me, and he and I were at baby’s first goblin market adventure together so we know Crush Fae, but none of the others have met them, although Shooty Boy does have a dope ass fae-made arm that he got after losing his in the Most Dangerous Game last year.

So we go to our first sidequest stop which is, ahem, picking up a dead body from some EMTs. Also a lady from the fbi is following us which has my character freaked the fuck out bc she’s already got some shit going on with the feds but anyway. Parent Issues Guy and Party Planner Lady, who’s the other HR person there, distract the fbi lady while Clown and Shooty Boy decorate the body bag to look like the clown’s bag in order to get it into our car.

Next stop we have to pick up a spirit spider, this isn’t too difficult. Then we take them both to Vampire Butcher, who is also a blood witch and who also happens to be my roommate’s boyfriend. I haven’t actually met him yet and even though I love her I just cannot bring myself to trust her judgement or this man. So as he’s putting his fresh body away for, um, ritual use, I’m talking to him and he asks about my roommate. He says he’s glad I’m looking after her and I say, yeah, I’m looking after her. And y’all the gm rolled zero successes to resist intimidation and this fucking pack leader vampire almost went into a frenzy bc he was so cowed, you don’t fuck with my friends

So in return for the body and the spider he’s given us a briefcase full of cash, which we take to the pocket dimension bodega. We exchange it for Crush Fae’s item, which is a sandwich made by the best chef in the fae realm. Just when it looks like everything’s about to wrap up, ASSHOLE FAE APPEARS OUT OF NOWHERE.

It turns out the way Asshole Fae’s imprisonment works is that once a year Crush Fae has to choose a task and a set of Champions to carry it out. If Asshole Fae can stop the Champions from completing the task, he gets to be free. So now it’s going to be a race to get this bitchin’ sandwich back to Crush Fae before Asshole Fae rips all our throats out. Asshole Fae is about to leave the bodega (which is strictly neutral territory) when I hold him up for a second.

“How much would it cost me to keep you here for a couple of hours?”

So, in return for giving my friends until midnight to get a head start, I have to give up my Championship - meaning Crush Fae doesn’t remember me at all anymore. It’s a big deal bc not only is that relationship a thing I’m working on narratively, I’ve actually paid experience points into representing it mechanically. Not to mention it would fucking crush my character, since it was the first real connection she made since she betrayed her girlfriend and went to prison 3 years ago. BUT I’m determined to be heroic and brave, so I give it up.

The rest of the party goes out and gets to work, calling our organization to drop off a car and their weapons at a meetup point, leveraging contacts to get a better route through the city, etc etc. Meanwhile I’m sitting in the bodega writing (my character is a journalist) while he’s trying to taunt me. I manage to get some backstory out of him, but he also tells me how difficult it will be for Crush Fae not having these memories, apparently they’ve put a lot of trust in someone before and got burned real bad. But I’m trying to act like it doesn’t affect me knowing this stuff. At midnight he’s about to leave and I hold him up once more.

And then I drop this bomb ass poem that I actually wrote in the real world essentially saying that he is NOTHING and I am going to ABSOLUTELY DESTROY him.

So that ends up being our first chase roll and I beat him, and now he’s pISSED. But my friends have a good head start and also some insane buff abilities. Circus Clown is able to hand out re-rolls like candy and also has a pool of 3 extra dice that can be used any time and refreshes every scene; Shooty Boy lets us re-roll any successful die (not just 10s), and Party Planner gave us all a condition that lets us get an exceptional success with just 3 successes. This party is a TEAMWORK MACHINE and we are CRUSHING IT.

The rest of the game is one long chase sequence (intercut with shots of me drinking copious amounts of coffee and ambling slowly towards the final destination). We get some truly incredible moments including: sneaking through the back room of every party supplier in New York; attempting and not quite succeeding at stealing the ambulance from our EMT contacts; and perhaps best of all, assembling a bomb out of party planning supplies and EMT gear (nail polish remover, lidocaine, and hair spray are a hell of a combination), and encasing it in a set of circus balloons tied into the shape of a grenade, which the party then affixed to the end of an arrow which Shooty Boy shot while standing in the sunroof of our company car as the party drove over the Brooklyn Bridge.

We all arrive at the goblin market just ahead of Asshole Fae, to his anguish and Crush Fae’s delight. Crush Fae shares the sandwich with all of us, even me, although they don’t think they’ve met me before. Asshole Fae shakes his little vial of memories at me as a reminder of the one tiny victory he did win, but I just lick the delicious sandwich grease off my fingers.

As we’re wrapping up, Parents Guy asks Crush Fae if they can help him find his mom. Crush Fae would be willing, in exchange for a favor. I ask Crush Fae to take a walk with me,but Parents Guy stops us. He says he’ll take the deal, and offer something extra: a memory. Crush Fae is intrigued when he says they ought to take the memory up front. He gives them all his memories of my and Crush Fae’s interactions - including the first time we met, and the last time we saw each other before their memories of me were taken. With those first and last memories back in place, everything comes rushing back as Crush Fae realizes what happens.

In the distance, we hear a tiny glass vial break, and a shout of rage.

#Made by Asher #asher does rpgs #this session was unbelievably good #like could not have been more perfect #we actually did a good fucking job for once and i'm so happy

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changingourdestiny · 5 years

Text

Changing Our Destiny Pilot: Part 2

Summary:

Rae meets her new Fireteam members; Blaze, a rebellious Awoken Hunter that lives by the motto 'My way or the highway'; and Adam, a human Titan who has taken a vow of silence and has his Ghost communicate for him. Will they learn to work together, or will they fall apart and be consumed by the Darkness?

Part 1: Here

“S’up?” Rae stared in awe at the Awoken that stood before her. “What? Never seen an Awoken before? I thought you would’ve met Zavala McGrumpy by now.” The Awoken laughed. Rae shook her head as she snapped out of her awestruck state, “Er, sorry! I didn’t mean to stare. I’m Rae.” “I’m Blaisel Kiria. But you can call me Blaze. All my friends do.” Blaze grinned before looking over her shoulder, “Oi, Adam! Hurry up, slow poke!!” Rae looked behind Blaze to see a man with messy blonde hair, green eyes and a metal arm, and was wearing white and blue armour, was casually walking towards the two women. He gave Rae an acknowledging nod. As he did so, a dark blue and silver ghost appeared beside him, “I am Stormbringer. Adam is pleased to meet you. He has taken a vow of silence since his revival so I will interpret anything he wishes to say.” “Nice to meet you!” Rae smiled. “Oi! Don’t forget about me!” An ice blue and orange Ghost appeared beside Blaze, “Hiya! I’m Firefly! Nice to meet ya!” “Hello!” Rae grinned, “Aren’t you the friendliest little thing?” “D’aww! I ain’t that cute!” Firefly bounced up and down happily. “What’s your Ghost’s name?” Blaze asked. “I just call him Ghost.” Rae shrugged as Ghost appeared beside her. “I prefer it as my name if I’m honest.” Ghost added. “Makes sense. Some Ghosts already have a name, but I gave Firefly hers.” Blaze replied, patting her Ghost on the head with her finger. “New friend!” Firefly cheered as she floated over to Ghost, “Hi new friend!” “She’s very excitable.” Stormbringer informed Ghost, “I’m Stormbringer. It is nice to meet you, Ghost.” “The pleasure is mine.” “So, newbie. We were told by the Ikora that you’re our newest member.” Blaze began, “Nice tattoos by the way!” “Oh, um…they’re not tattoos. They’re natural. It’s a long story.” Rae replied. “Eh? I didn’t know humans get markings like that naturally.” “I’m not human. I’m Paragonialan.” “Pair of what now?” “Paragonialan. I’m the last of my kind. I died while trying to get to the Last City via the Cosmodrome…apparently. It’s a long story.” “Well we don’t have time to unpack all that! We’re tasked with showing you around and getting you ready for the next mission! Let’s see if Banshee has any weapons you can use and then we’ll give you the tour, newbie!”

“And your dorm should be right arooooooouuuuund…ah! Here we go!” Blaze trotted down a corridor towards a door, “And I’m right across the way! So if you need anything, just let me know! Adam’s a few doors down.” Adam gave a thumbs up to Rae. Rae opened the door and looked inside. It was a basic room. A bed, a side table with a lamp, a desk and chair, a bookcase, a small box of tinkering tools on the desk, and a wardrobe. There was a door leading to a bathroom by the bed. “You should get some rest.” Ghost informed Rae, “We have to return to the Cosmodrome tomorrow.” “Wha?! We just escaped that hell!” Rae squeaked. “I’ll explain tomorrow. Try and get some rest.” Ghost replied. “I’m with the lil’ guy on this one!” Blaze yawned, “Imma head to bed. See ya, Rae!” Adam waved goodbye as he walked down the hallway. “Goodnight guys!” Rae waved as she went into her room. Rae set her journal and the gun she found in the Cosmodrome on her desk, flicked to a page in the journal, took out the tinkering tools, and began to take apart the gun. “What are you up to?” Ghost asked, curious of what Rae was doing. “There’s a page here saying that I used to tinker with machines back at the tribe. There were even some notes on how to tinker with guns and other machines.” Rae explained, “I saw some Guardians with helmets out in the plaza, so I’m gonna design my own.” “Well, don’t spend too long on it. You need your rest.” “Yes mom.” Rae smirked. “Very funny.” Ghost rolled his eye as he disappeared.

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“There’s Adam!” Rae strolled into the plaza where she was to meet up with Adam and Blaze. Adam was there but there was no sign of Blaze. “Morning Adam! Hey Stormbringer!” Rae waved to the two. Adam waved back with a friendly smile. “Good Morning, Rae.” Stormbringer greeted the Warlock. “Where’s Blaze and Firefly?” Rae asked. “Blaze has a habit of being late for meetups and training.” Stormbringer explained, “I swear she gets it from her Vanguard.” “You mean Cayde?” Rae asked. Stormbringer nods, “Cayde is known for being more laid-back and not as serious as the other Vanguards. One time, Adam and I spotted him being dragged into the meeting room by Commander Zavala by the cloak after sneaking out to Spicy Ramen, which is a restaurant in the City.” “The best restaurant may I add!” The Guardians and Ghosts turned around to see Blaze casually strolling into the plaza with Firefly. “Hi all!” Firefly chimed in a happy tone. “Blaze, you are late. Again.” Stormbringer scolded. “Geez, lighten up! What’s the big deal anyway?” Blaze sighed. “Dunno. Ghost? You there?” Rae called. Ghost popped up beside her, “Always. So about today’s mission. It will be your first mission as a full Fireteam. I was sent a message from Ikora’s Ghost, Ophiuchus. Ikora wants you to use this mission to learn how to work together as a team. As for the mission, we need to return to the Cosmodrome in Old Russia to retrieve some parts for the ship we found. I’ll explain more on the way there.” “Alright. Let’s go then!”

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“So, Ghostie. What’s the story?” Blaze asked. The three Guardians were crammed in the small spacecraft as it glided through the sky. “Don’t call me that.” Ghost glared at Blaze, “Anyway. We were lucky to find this ship. A Guardian can’t do much without one.” “That’s true.” Stormbringer agreed, “We used to have one…until two certain someones decided to show off and crashed our ship on the way back to the City and we had to walk the rest of the way back!” Blaze just whistled to herself as she glanced at the ceiling. “As I was saying,” Ghost continued, “We need a warp drive if we ever hope to fight beyond Earth, and that Cosmodrome is the only place I know where we can find one. We survived the Fallen once, we can do it again.” “Okay!” Blaze grinned, “Helmets on Fireteam…uh…I just realised we never chose a team name…sooo…anyone got any ideas?” The ship was silent for a moment as the Guardians and Ghosts just gave each other confused glances. “Well…” Rae spoke up, breaking the silence, “Paragon, the deity my tribe worshipped was usually associated with a dragon made from the Light. And since us Guardians are Lightbearers…how about Paralight?” “I mean…” Blaze began, “I would’ve gone with Blaze’s Hot-Shots. But that has a better ring to it!” Adam nodded in agreement. “Ok then!” Blaze grinned, “Fireteam Paralight, helmets on!” Blaze held a metal mouthpiece to her face as a silver spiked helmet with fire-coloured stripes, her facial markings, and dark red eyes materialised around her head and she pulled the hood of her cloak over it. Adam pressed what looked like a jade-green visor to his eyes as a simple, round, white and blue helmet formed around his head. “Time to try this out.” Rae muttered to herself. She had used the parts of her old gun, plus some spare parts she scavenged from around the tower, to make her own protective mask of sorts. She placed what looked a pair of dark, metal cuboid headphones on her head and a black and gold mask formed around her face. The mask had her cheek mark on it along with a dark pink diamond between her eyes and dark pink around the clear eyepieces. The gold part on the bottom had two silver fangs painted on with a silver diamond in the centre. “Hey, not bad!” Blaze stared at Rae’s mask, impressed, “When did you put that together?” “Last night. I’m sure I could make it look better if I had the proper supplies. But I only had some scraps, so it’ll do for now.” Rae replied. “Alright. We’re here!” Ghost announced, “Get ready to land.”

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“WHOOHOO!!!” Blaze cheered as she jumped behind a crate, landing beside Rae. “I told you not to run ahead of us! Why would you do that?!” Rae yelled over the gunfire as she briefly peeked out from behind the crate and fired a vortex grenade into the seemingly endless group of Fallen. Adam was behind another crate nearby, firing at the Fallen in an attempt to hold them back. “You guys were taking too long!” Blaze continued. “Because we were working out a strategy to get the warp drive from the Fallen!” “What strategy? We go in, shoot the baddies, get the warp drive, and leave!” “It’s not that-!”

*ROAR!!!*

The two Guardians’ argument was cut short by a loud roar coming from a hole in the wall across the room. “What is that thing?!” Rae exclaimed. “An Archon! Yes!!! I’ve always wanted to take down one of these guys!” Blaze cheered as she reloaded her hand cannon and leapt out of cover, “Time to be the hero!!!”

“BLAZE!!!” Rae called after the rowdy Awoken but to no avail. “It is no use.” Stormbringer called from beside Adam, “There are three things Blaze is known for among the other Guardians: being the main source of trouble, having the worst temper, and never listening to any sort of authority. The only authority figure that usually gets through to her is Cayde, but sometimes she even won’t listen to him. It’s her way or the highway, as the saying goes.” Rae cursed under her breath as she ran out from behind the crate, “Adam, cover me!” Adam nodded in response as he tried to distract the Archon from Blaze. But the fiery Hunter wasn’t having it. “

Hey!

I’m your opponent, you ugly son of a-!”

“BLAZE MOVE!!!” Rae lunged at Blaze, pushing her behind some rubble and pinning her to the ground. “Ack! What the heck was that for?! Get off!” Blaze growled. “No! Blaze I know you don’t like listening to others, and I’m sure you don’t want to listen to a ‘newbie’, but I’m not letting you get killed!”

“What’s he big deal?! Firefly can just revive me like she always does!”

“Have you noticed the giant monster of a Fallen?! What if Firefly gets damaged, what then?!”

Blaze suddenly stopped struggling as she turned her head to look at Firefly who was floating beside her. Blaze let out a sigh, “…what’s the plan?”

Rae looked over at Adam who was still trying to hold back the Archon, “Ok. Hunters are known to be stealthy, right? Adam and I will distract the Archon. While we do that, you sneak up behind it quietly. When we give the signal, you attack him from behind. That way we can beat the Archon without anyone getting killed…”

“And I can still get the winning blow!”

“Exactly!”

Blaze smirked, “Alright then. Let’s do it!!”

Rae got off Blaze and dashed to where Adam was and helped him distract the Archon while Blaze snuck by the Archon. “It’s almost low enough. Just a little longer!” Rae muttered, “Almost…almost…Blaze, now!!!”

Blaze whipped out her hand cannon and began firing at the Archon from behind. However…

*click!* *click, click, click!*

From behind her helmet, the colour drained from Blaze’s face as the Archon turned to glare down at the Hunter, “Uhh, guys? I’m out of ammo!” The Archon knocked Blaze off her feet with its free hands before pointing its gun right at her head. “Blaze!!” Rae cried out as she ran towards her teammate. Adam reached out his arm to try and stop the Warlock but to no avail. Rae leapt at the Archon; her left arm outstretched. Everything seemed to fall into slow motion. Rae felt a surge of arcane energy pulse through her arm as the dark pink markings on her arm began to glow purple as a sphere of energy appeared in her hand and began to grow bigger and bigger until…

*KA-BOOM!!!*

A bright purple light filled the room as a loud explosion sounded through the air. The light faded and Rae was lying face-first on the ground, the marks on her arm still glowing faintly. Blaze was on the ground staring at where the Archon, who seemed to have completely vanished, once was. Her helmet disappeared revealing an utterly shocked expression on her face, “Ok…I officially have a huge amount of respect for Warlocks…” “T-thank you…!” Rae groaned as she picked herself up off the ground, “I didn’t even know I could do that, to be honest.” “That, I believe, was a Nova Bomb.” Ghost explained, appearing beside Rae, “All classes of Guardians have a unique super ability depending on their subclass. Since you are a Voidwalker Warlock, you’re super is the Nova Bomb.” “He’s right.” Blaze agreed as she got to her feet, “Mine is called Golden Gun, which…wait for it…summons a FLAMING GUN!! Cool right?! Oh, and Adam’s is Ward of Dawn which makes a huge bubble shield.” Adam nodded in confirmation. “As interesting as everyone’s abilities are…” Stormbringer interrupted, “I believe we were looking for a warp drive. We should find it before more Fallen arrive.” “Stormbringer is right. Let’s see…” Ghost hovered around the room for a second before darting to a corner, “Aha! Here it is! Let’s get back to the ship.” “You got it!” Rae nodded. “Whoo! Fireteam Paralight, first mission complete!” Blaze cheered.

As the three Guardians approached their ship, Ghost appeared beside Rae, “Rae. I received a message from the Speaker. He wishes to see you when we return.” “I…I’m not in trouble, am I?” Rae asked, nervously. “He didn’t say.” Ghost replied. “#PrayForRae” Blaze laughed.

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Early that evening, Rae walked into the observatory tower. “Whoa…” Rae gasped in awe at the sight of the Traveller. “There was a time…when we were much more powerful...” A calm voice spoke from behind Rae. The Warlock turned to face the Speaker, who was descending down a set of steps, “But that was long ago. Until it wakes and finds its voice, I am the one who speaks for the Traveller.” The Speaker motioned for Rae to follow him to the railing which overlooked the City and the Traveller, “You must have no end of questions, Guardian. In its dying breath, the Traveller created Ghosts, to seek out those who can wield its Light as a weapon – Guardians, to protect us, and do what the Traveller itself no longer can.” “I…hope you don’t mind me asking, but…what happened to it?” Rae asked. “I could tell you of the great battle, centuries ago…” The Speaker began, walking alongside the railing as he spoke, “How the Traveller was crippled. I could tell you of the power of the Darkness, its ancient enemy. There are many tales, told throughout the City to frighten children. Lately those stories have stopped. Now…the children are frightened anyway.” The Speaker turned to face Rae ad Ghost, “The Darkness is coming back. We will not survive it this time.” “Its armies surround us. The Fallen are just the beginning.” Ghost added. The look of curiosity and confusion on Rae’s face was replaced with a look of worry, but quickly changed to a determined one, “What can I do?” “You must push back the Darkness.” The Speaker replied, “Guardians are fighting on Earth and beyond…join them. Your Ghost will guide you. I only hope he chose wisely.” The Speaker turned and began to ascend back up the steps without another word. “I did…I’m sure of it.” Ghost reassured his Guardian as the two left the observatory, “We’re in this together now.”

As the two approached the Plaza, Ghost made a little beeping noise, “Incoming audio message from Blaisel Kiria.” Blaze’s voice started playing from Ghost, “Hey, newbie!” “Hey, Rae!” “Cayde, shh! Yo, meet us in the City! We’re eatin’ out at Spicy Ramen to celebrate our first ever mission success! Cayde’s buyin’!” “Wha?! Now hold on, I didn’t-!” “See ya soon, buddy!” The audio ended with a beep. “I guess we’re having ramen tonight.” Rae shrugged. “Well, you are. I can’t eat.”

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“Yeah! Spicy Ramen time!” Blaze dug straight into her bowl as the group of Guardians sat at Spicy Ramen. “Ugh! Blaze, can you please not be so sloppy? You nearly got sauce on me!” Stormbringer scolded. “Oh relax! Ghosts are waterproof, right?” Blaze replied, swallowing a mouth full of noodles. “They aren’t sauce-proof! Plus, do you know how hard it is to get rid of the smell?” *Plop!* “Gah! Cayde!!” Cayde had plopped a few noodles on top of Stormbringer, who was clearly not amused. “Nice wig, Storm.” Cayde chuckled. “Lighten up a bit, Storm!” Sundance, Cayde’s Ghost, laughed. “Yeah! We’re celebrating, y’know!” Firefly agreed. “I love how Stormbringer is the only one of our Ghost’s that isn’t like his Guardian!” Blaze laughed, “Cayde and Sundance are mischievous and carefree, Firefly and I are awesome and fun, Rae and Ghost are huge stick-in-the-muds…” “HEY!” Rae and Ghost yelled in unison. “But Adam and Stormbringer…” Blaze continued, “Well Adam’s pretty much a big teddy bear and is friendly to everyone, while Stormbringer’s all serious and can’t take a joke to save his life.” “Blaisel. I appreciate you as a teammate, but you are incredibly annoying.” Stormbringer glared at Blaze. “Well, duh! I’ve had to spend the past few weeks with you, so of course I got it from you!” Blaze smirked. “Oh, shots are being fired at Spicy Ramen! Someone call the Vanguard!” Sundance laughed. “I don’t thing even Zavala could block those verbal bullets.” Cayde chuckled.

“By the way, been meaning to ask ya…” Blaze piped up as she finished her bowl, “How do you know so much of your past, Rae? Usually it’s pretty rare for Guardians to even have a few of their memories, let alone the amount you have.” “You don’t have any of yours?” Rae asked. “Nope. And I don’t really care that I don’t remember my past. Any regrets that may have held me down are out the window. So I have nothing holding me back. But this ain’t about me, back to how you remember your past.” Blaze shrugged as she took another mouthful of noodles. “Well, when Ghost revived me, I found a journal that had a symbol identical to the one on my clothes. And all of the stuff written in it felt familiar. So I was able to piece together some of my past through it. But it only goes up to a few years before I died. So anything past that is blank.” “Cuhd az uh juhnuh tu!” Rae said with her mouth full, “Uh, hod uhn…*gulp!* Cayde has a journal too!” “It’s a mystery why people call you the Gossip Machine.” Cayde rolled his optics. “What can I say? I get it from my Vanguard.” Blaze grinned. Cayde gasped dramatically, “Blaze, I’m hurt! I would never say something like Zavala likes knitting in his spare time.” “Wait, really?” Rae laughed. “Oh, oh! Do the voice!” Sundance bounced up and down in the air. Cayde let out a loud ahem and began speaking in a deep tone, identical to Zavala’s, “Guardian. I am Zavala. I am very strict, and I hate smiling. Hunters are way better than Titans. War. Poetry. Knitting.” Rae burst out laughing, “Oh my Paragon, that’s perfect!”

The rest of the evening was spent chatting, celebrating, and recounting the highlights of the last mission. Despite only being there for a little over a day, Rae was already feeling at home in the Last City. Little did she realise that her little mismatched team of Guardians would be the ones to save the universe…

…eventually.

End of Prologue.

#destiny #changing our destiny #fireteam paralight #rae drakyx #blaze kiria #adam bergfalk #destiny cayde #cayde-6 #ghost #destiny ghost #fallen #destiny fallen

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pussnboots21 · 5 years

Text

Jockstraps to Bra-straps 3-4

Chapter 3

Soon the group was at the front of UA waiting for the shuttles that would take us to the mall where we would meet up with my mom. I was excited to see her, since starting school and moving to the dorms our time together has been quite minimum, I felt bad but I also knew she understood. She really was the best, I really need to find a way to make all of this up to her. Kacchan sat towards the back, keeping his distance from the group. I looked back at him, his eyes met mine, another unreadable look crossed his face as his brow furrowed as a light blush seemed to fill his cheeks before turning away to look out the window with a huff. I couldn’t help but tilt my head as I thought over what his reactions could be but was interrupted by our shuttle reaching its destination.

The mall was busy and bustling with life, the girls grouped off after agreeing on a meetup time for lunch. Uraraka and Kacchan stayed with me as we looked for my mother. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, It was a text from my mom saying she was running late due to traffic.

“Well, my mom said we should start without her and she will call when she gets here.” I looked over at my companions “Where should we start first?”

Kacchan spoke first “Work out clothes first nerd, I’m paying. Let's go.”

I exchanged a look with Uraraka as we followed him to one of the high-end sports shops that made clothing to handle strength quirks. He lead us into the women's section and took a seat by the dressing room.

“Well get going, help her pick out what she needs Ochaco,” he said crossing his arms and leaning back. “Well, you heard angry boom boy lets get shopping!” Uraraka said excitedly grabbing my hand and leading me around the store. She piled my arms full of clothes, bras, and a few different compression sleeves to replace my old one since it didn’t quite fit before the accident. I was then dragged to the changing room.

“Why do I need so many different types of bras?” I asked holding up one that looked like it was meant to time someone up rather than hold boobs.

Uraraka laughed “Some have different forms of support than others, also you could like how one fits and hate how another fits, same with the clothes, some fit different than others, which means you may not like one but love another.”

“Wow, that a lot, it was simpler shopping before all of this,” I said taking off bra I just tried on and putting in a keep pile, soon the pile was down to a quarter of what it was when we started. I left the changing room and walked over to Kacchan with the pile. He looked up from his phone as I approached.

“You finally done nerd?” he asked standing up, eyeing the pile of clothes and compression sleeves in my arm. I smiled and nodded. “Good, let's go pay and get out of here. Auntie must be close by now.”

“Ok, are you sure you want to pay for all of this Kacchan? I don’t want to cause a problem, you really don’t owe me anything….” I started

“Shut up Deku, I don’t like owing people, and I feel like I owe you; So shut up and let me do this alright. It’s half my fault you are in this situation.” He growled at me grabbing the clothes out of my arms and stalking angerly off to the counter. Uraraka stared at me mouth wide open, I could tell she wanted to say something but I shook my head.

“No, don’t say a word, I’m just confused as you are.” I said as she started giggling, grabbing my arm and walking towards the counter to join Kacchan and help with the bags. He had just finished paying as we got to the counter, he took the backs and headed for the exit waiting for us to catch up to him near a bench just outside the store.

“Thanks, Kacchan this was really nice of you.” I said sitting down on the bench stretching my legs, who knew trying clothes on could be so exhausting. Kacchan “Tsk” as I felt my phone vibrated, opening it I saw a message from my mom asking where we are so she could find us. I sent her a reply saying what store we were out front of and that we would wait for her here.

“My mom will be here in just a few minutes,” I said placing my phone back into my pocket and looking at Uraraka and Kacchan.

“I’m heading back to the dorms after, I say hi. I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my old hag if I didn’t.” Kacchan said, “ I will take these bags back with me so you don’t forget them or some shit.” He continued sitting down next to me.

“I can’t wait to meet your mom Deku! She sounds like such an amazing person, from how you talk about her.” Uraraka stated smiling as she excitedly looked around trying to see if she could spot my mom.

“Well aren’t you just so sweet dear, I’m glad to hear my baby still talks about his dear old mother.” Uraraka jumped and turned around clutching at her heart before pulling it together and bowing. “Its a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Midoriya.”

“Oh now there is no need for that sweetie, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” she said turning to then face Kacchan. “ and it's wonderful to see you again Katsuki, your mom is always going on about how proud she is of you. You have turned into quite the young man, definitely not the little boy who would come by begging for me to make a snack after school.” My mom said giving Kacchan a hug after he had stood to greet her, a blush covering his face as she talked about his childhood.

“It’s good to see you too auntie. I’m gonna take these bags back to the dorm for Izuku, have a nice rest of your day.” he said turning to walk away hand raised in a lazy wave.

“Oh, what did you buy Izuku?” Mom asked

“Kacchan bought me new workout clothes, as an apology for his part in all this, I tried to tell him it wasn’t needed but he insisted,” I explained.

“How adult of him, now let's go shopping and meet the girls for lunch shall we?” she said hugging me and Uraraka, before leading the way to the next shop. It was an interesting shopping as a girl. It made me respect the girls more and more with each shop visited. I was hot sweaty and exhausted by the time we had bought a wardrobe for me. Then there was the bra and undergarment shopping, I don’t think I had ever been so embarrassed in my life. There were so many types of bras and underwear. Why did girls need a whole store for just undergarments? My mom and Uraraka helped me to pick out practical things for day to day wear and would work with the clothes we had bought; on the way out of the store, I saw a bra that was a beautiful dark green lace with a tan making up the main part of the bra and matching underwear. I could see how a guy would like something like that on a woman, simple but elegant. I had no reason to wear it though, it's not any of the guys I like would be interested, especially with all the stress of my situation.

“Deku are you coming?” Uraraka called, I jumped being lost in though I stopped paying attention.

“Yes, sorry I’m coming.” I called, blushing as I turned and walked over to my mom, as Uraraka turned to go back in, I gave her a questioning look.

“I forgot I needed something, I will catch up with you guys in a sec.” she said turning a waving as she disappeared into the store.

I shrugged I turned to my mom and left the store, heading in the direction of the restaurant we had decided on with the others before splitting up. It was nice to talk with my mom on our way there, it really had been too long since we got to catch up, and spend any real-time together. It wasn’t long before Uraraka caught back up and we reached the restaurant. Most of the group was there already and it wasn’t long before the last few showed up. Everyone loved my mom, and she had an excuse to tell embarrassing stories from my childhood, ( she must have planned this because she brought pictures.) After that mom walked us to the shuttle stop giving us all hugs as we boarded. I gave her a nice long one thanking her for helping me out and being so great with a promise to keep her updated and schedule a time to do this again soon. I took my bags and climbed on the shuttle doors shutting behind me as I took a seat.

The ride back was quieter than the ride there, we were all tired and worn out. Once back at the dorms the girls helped me take my bags to my room before heading to their own, some of them had even got me gifts of things they think I would need or want to try, it was really sweet. I ended up crying more and thanking them for all their kindness and support. Once alone I started sorting and putting away the clothing I got, I also boxed up my old clothes to put into the spare room next to mine as the school as it was allocated as a storage space. I was just putting the las of my hair products on a shelf when there was a knock at my door. Walking over I opened the door to see Kirishima standing there with some bags and a plate of pizza.

“Oh, Hi Kirishima, what's up?” I said stepping to the side and gesturing for him to come in.

“Just bring up some dinner for you, we ordered a Pizza and the girls figured you lost track of time. They also had some stuff for you that got mixed in theirs so I volunteered to bring it all up.” He said placing the bags on the bed and pizza on my desk. He then sat on my bed leaning back, a slightly more serious look on his face. “I was also hoping to check on ya; see how you're doing with all this.”

“Thanks, I’m starting to feel better about this, everyone has been so supportive and helpful. It's still strange though. I don’t feel like me but at the same time, I do. It's hard to explain.” I said grabbing the pizza and sitting down on the floor, leaning against the bed.

“I understand what you're saying, dude. I have to say your amazing if it was me I would be freaking out like nothing else; definitely wouldn’t be as calm or collected as you.” he said sliding off the bed to sit beside me. I smiled at him putting my now empty plate next to me.

“That means a lot, I don’t know how I'm doing this, to be honest. I guess maybe I don’t see the point in stressing over something I can’t change or control. I mean sure it strange having things on my chest verse between my legs, but I could be so much worse.” I said looking over at Kirishima. He smiled and nodded.

“Makes sense to me. But I have to ask now that your brought it up….. What's it like to have boobs?” a small blush fell across his cheeks as he asked.

“Well for one, they are killing my back. Like I had no idea how the girls have managed like this and never complain, and for two the are strange, they are soft but firm you can feel the pectoral muscles like you do as a guy.” I said looking down at the now offending thing on my chest. “Not to mention strangers stare at them, it's so creepy. Or people like Mineta who try to grab them.”

“Yeah, that definitely isn't cool, or manly.” he said a scowl falling over his face.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “You're one of the good guys, and I told the girls so it's bound to get out soon, but I would like to tell you that I’m gay, well straight now I guess since I’m female and like guys.” I scratched the back of my head.

“Ha, I knew it! Denki owes me 2000 yen now.” He said smiling.

I laughed standing up to throw my plate in the trash. “You wanna stay for a bit and get some help and the homework?” I asked moving over the bags he brought up.

“Totally, you rock Midoriya!” He jumped up excitedly.

“Let me just put these ways and then we can get started.” I said as I started pulling out things and putting them away, it was pretty quick as it was only some different types of lipsticks and few pieces of clothing, I grabbed the last bag and reached in pulling out Bra from the intimates shop I visited today, I squeaked in shock dropping it onto the bed dropping the bra onto the bed in surprise.

“What's wrong?” I heard Kirishima ask coming up beside me “ Woah, who got you this it’s cute.”

Kirishima said laughing as he picked it up.

“Uraraka, she caught me looking at in the store.” I said blushing reaching into the back to find that she also got me the matching underwear.

“You gonna try it on.” he asked laughing as I took the bra back from him.

“Not right now.” I said sticking my tongue out as I turned to go put it way.

“Aw, Dang.” Kirishima laughed sitting back on the bed, I laughed as I joined him grabbing the homework from my bag so we could talk over it. We went over the homework for a while and slowly started getting more and more off-topic talking about whatever came to mind until the book was put aside and forgot.

“So since you told me about being gay, I feel like I should tell you I, I'm Bi.” Kirishima confessed.

“I’m so happy you considered me good enough friend to tell me.” I said taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. I hadn’t realized how close our bodies had become while talking and the next thing I knew his lips met mine in a sweet but shy first kiss. His face was as red as mine; he pulled away quickly mumbling apologies, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I pulled him back this time being the one start the kiss. His arms wrapped around my waist pulling me closer to him deepening our kiss. I felt his tongue slide along my bottom lip asking for permission to enter; I opened my mouth in response, bringing my tongue to meet his, getting to taste him for the first time. I moaned at the sensation tangling my fingers in his hair. Too soon we had to part both panting heavily, trying to reclaim the air we lost while lost in our kiss.

Kirishima looked at me smiling “So, wanna go on a date tomorrow?”

Chapter 4

The next day came really fast, I couldn’t help but smile as I thought of last night with Eijiro. He left not long after our kiss and giving me more then enough reassurance that he would still want to date me even if I turned back to a guy. I came downstairs smiling, as I entered the kitchen. I wanted to get a simple meal before going back to my workout routine. The last few days threw it off and I needed to see how my new body would handle it so I could adjust accordingly. I was halfway done when Uraraka came into the kitchen, yawning as she sat down beside me, taking my fork and snagging a few bites of the food on my plate.

“Morning. Want to hit the gym with me; after you have finished stealing my food of course.” I laughed getting up to make her a plate with the extra I had made, placing it in front of her and rescuing my plate.

“Thanks, Deku and sure that sound good to me.” she smiled taking about of the food, “ also, how did you like my gift, Kirishima brought it up to you last night right?” A deep blush fell over my face at the mention of Eijiro.

“Y.y.yes he brought it up, with the pizza last night, I can't believe you got me that, you have already done so much.” I said trying to hide my blush as I placed my plate in the sink, but I must not have been fast enough.

“Why are you blushing? What happened?” she jumped over to me taking my hand's eyes large with excitement.

“He kissed me last night while studying. We have a date later tonight.” I shyly, face getting redder with each word.

“OMG! You have to let me help you get ready for it. Please Deku!” she yelled pulling me into an excited hug jumping up and down.

I laughed and nodded “Of course, I need all the help I can get, but first let's go work out.”

She nodded letting go of me so she could take care of her plate as I cleaned up my mess from cooking. We then parted ways to change. We then meet in the gym room; I was happy to see that this body kept the strength I had built, with only very minor differences that I could easily work with. It felt good to be back on my routine, it gave me a sense of normalcy and a welcome distraction from the date tonight. Otherwise, I would be overthinking and stressing about it. I have never been on a date before. I had no clue what to do or expect let alone how to dress.

Soon we finished our routines and headed to the elevator. Sweaty and tired, we talked about random things.

“Hey, why don’t you bring your stuff up to my space that way you can help me get me to get ready for tonight,” I said looking over at her as we reached the elevators.

“Sure that sounds fun, let me go by my room to grab what we need and I will meet you at your room.” she said excitedly. She got off at her floor and I continued up to my mine. I entered my room and started gathering my shower supplies which had grown quite a bit since the shopping trip. I sat on down at my desk, picking up my phone up off its charger so I could check my messages before the shower. Nothing new from the lab beside an email saying I should learn what to expect from a female body including links to female sexual education sites, the girls had gotten me some supplies in case I got a period; the Drs gave me a 50/50 chance of having one or not. There was knock at the door as Uraraka opened it; arms full of stuff that wasn't only just for her shower. She placed the items on my bed and sorted out her shower supplies form whatever else she had lugged up here.

“What is all this?” I asked gesturing to all the things strewn across my bed.

“Stuff to help you get ready for your date later silly, I know it's your first one so I'm going to make sure you look extra cute!” She stated as she grabbed my arm and started leading me to the door. Soon we were in the bathroom enjoying the warm water on our sore muscles. We had talked a little about everything, Uraraka dropping more hints that she wanted me to spill more about last night but I wasn’t budging. We wrapped up in towels once we finished washing up heading back to my room to dress and get ready. Uraraka pulled out the bra and panties she bought for me placing them on the bed before going to my closet and going through all my new clothes. She settled on a short skirt and cute top, saying something about it being simple and cute. Once were where both dressed she started work on my hair.

“Ok, did you have any thoughts on what you wanted to be done with your hair?” she asked running the brush through it.

“Not really, I have never had to think about.” I said handing her the tangle spray Hagakure bought me

“Hm, that's true I wanna try giving you to braids. It would look super cute.” she said using the spraying and working my hair. It wasn’t long before she had control of my wild locks and two small braids coming off the nape of my neck. It was super cute just like she thought it would be.

She let out a small happy squeak. As she turned my chair to face her.

“AAAHH, you are so adorable, now to do your make up. Pay attention so you can do it your self next time.” she said grabbing the makeup bag that I was gifted by the girls.

“Ok you don’t need foundation, it would be a crime to hide your freckles, so I'm just going to do eye shadow.” She pulled out the supplies she would be using explaining each one and going through each step so I could learn as we went. It wasn’t long before she was done, I looked in the mirror. She had done a simple forest green eye shadow that matched my bra and hair; it complemented the outfit perfectly as it brought out the green tints.

“OMG, Deku you look so cute, Kirishima is going love it, and if he doesn't I'm gonna float him to the moon.” she stated I could see the fire in her eyes.

“Please don’t do that, he is still our classmate after all; I don’t think Aizawa would appreciate it too much.” I laughed as Uraraka started looking at my now large collections of shoes before giving up and going over to the bags she had my bed and pulling out a shoebox.

“Here I got these for you the other day and was going to save them for your birthday but this seems like a better time.” she handed me the box, which I opened inside were a pair of red flats that had a ballet style look.

“I know they don’t replace your sneakers, but I thought you would like them anyways. “ she said smiling at me as I took them out and put them on.

“I would be crying right now but I don’t want to ruin my make up,” I said hugging her, she hugged me back.

“Ok well your date should be here any time so I’m going grab my stuff and go, but I better get a full report tomorrow!” She winked gathering her stuff and walking to the doo. I waved goodbye as she got on the elevator.

Once alone I looked at my phone; I had a missed text from Eijiro.

Kirishima: Hey, you ready!

Me: Yup, just finished.

Then there was a knock at my door, I stood up and answered my door to be greeted by a smiling Eijiro, there was a flash of awe that fell over his face as he looked me. He then pulled me in for a gentle kiss.

“You look stunning!” he said pulling way “You wanna head out?” he asked taking my hand as I closed the door behind me.

“Yup, I’ve never been on a date before so I’m excited to see what you have planned.” I said taking his hand as we walked down the hall.

“Wha no one has ever taken you out on a date before?” He said shocked as we waited for the elevator. I shook my head no as the door opened and we stepped on the elevator.

“Well then close your eye and prepare for the best first date ever!” he stated.

I giggled as closed my eyes like instructed, it wasn’t long before I heard the ding of the elevator opening, and the gentle guiding hand of Eijiro leading me off and to our destination.

“OK, open your eyes.” He said

I opened my eye, we were on the roof of the dorm. He had set up a picnic blanket with a full spread of snacks and covered bowls of ramen set off to the side. He had pillows and lights set up, with flowers and rose petals spread around the area. The sun was just starting to set giving off a golden glow that finished the mood of the perfectly.

“Oh, Eijiro this is amazing! This must-have taken hours to do.”I said sitting down as he guided me over to the seating area,

“Hey it's all worth it to see that smile on your face, plus it gave me an excuse to use my mom's ramen recipe.” He said moving the bowls to sit between us.

“You made this?” I said taking a bite. “Oh wow this tastes amazing, its the best ramen I’ve ever had.”

He smiled as he took a bite of his food. From then on we talked about this and that. We talked about what middle school was like, and our families. We talked for what seemed like for hours. We laid down looking at the stars as we talked about our favorite heroes, and goals. It was wonderful. Soon we fell into a comfortable silence, laying there in each other's arms.

I moved my head so I could look at his face, he turned to meet me looking into my eyes he closed the distance between our lips. It started out slow and sweet as we found our rhythm. He turned over pulling me closer to him, I could feel the heat radiating off him, I felt his fingers ghost over my skin, leaving hot trails behind only to be instantly met with the cold air sending a shiver down my spine. I deepened the kiss out tounges meeting and tangling together. I once again found my fingers in his hair, moaning as he pulled me closer, hand sliding lower and lower till he cupped my butt giving it a gentle squeeze. I groaned as he rolled on top of me, placing a hand on my hip, as he slid his hand up and under my shirt squeezing my breast lightly. I arched up into his hand wanting more of the sensation. I nipped his bottom lip, pulling him closer to me; he groaned pulling away from me.

“Are you ok with this? Cuz I don’t how much longer I can hold back if we keep this up.” He panted a deep red blush falling over his face.

“Don’t you dare stop now.” I responded pulling him back down; our lips crashing together as the passion built. His hands explored my body more, and I let fingers free of his hair so I could explore him. I undid the buttons of his shirt so I could run my fingers over his chest. I whined as he moved his mouth away from mine, as he lifted up shirt.

“Oh please tell me you are wearing the matching panties.” he moaned giving me a squeeze.

“Keep this up and you might just find out.” I said scraping my nails down his back.

He slid his hand behind my back undoing my bra and pulling it off me. He then took my breast into his mouth sucking and grazing his teeth over the nipple. I gasped and moan bucking into his hip; I could feel his hardening member. I pushed him up moving so I could undo his pants, taking out his cock, giving it a few strokes before moving my head down to take it into my mouth. I bobbed my head sucking as I did. Eijiro placed his hand on my head moaning, his hips bucking as I continued to suck him. He pushed me back till I was laying down, before pulling down my skirt reveling the matching underwear. He gave me a look before kissing me again pulling the now offending piece of fabric off my hips and giving me a look asking for permission to continue. I nodded leaning up to kiss him as he positioned himself at my entrance, sliding himself in. I moan at the sensation of him filling me. Once he was fully in he groaned giving me a chance to adjust. I rolled my hips giving him the ok to move, he started off slow going in and out both of us moan and holding on to each other as he picked up speed. He changed his position in just the right way that so that he hit just the right spot to make me let out a quiet scream as he hit again and again. I wrapped my legs around his waist so I could move my hips to meet his thrusts wanting to feel him deeper in me. I could feel myself getting closer, we were both panting and moaning.

“I’m close Eijiro!” I gasped dragging my nails down his back.

“Me too Izuku.” He moaned moving his hips faster and we both got closer to our climax. He pushed in one last time as I felt my wall clamp-down on his member; he groaned out my name as I felt his cock pulse inside me with his release. Gasping he laid down next to me pulling me into his arms kissing my shoulder.

“You are amazing Izuku.” he whispered.

“So are you, stay in my room tonight and I will help you clean up in the morning.” I said leaning into his arms as he chuckled.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Eijiro said pulling me close as we watched the stars once again.

#kirideku #first fanfic #genderbender #mature #sunshine boys #my hero academia

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