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thesoftestpunk · 1 year

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Co- Aquatainenceship 9

Summary: You’re just two ex-assassins trying to navigate your way through normalcy, but you’re also huge idiots. In an attempt at getting Bucky out of his shell, you offer to catch him up on everything he’s missed. Including trashy YA novels.

Pairing: cw!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: I have been struggling so hard to write lately :(( quick shoutout to @sanguineterrain for helping me find the end to the chap but also the courage to get it done!!

Warnings: angst, talk about depression, fluff, injuries, blood, and stitches. can't forget smoking

Series Masterlist

So you don’t talk about it. It being your feelings, but you didn’t want to when he was out of town for the next week, doing a multitude of interviews with Tony and Natasha. Pepper had come up with a simple PR plan to roll out the new phase of the Avengers, and it included Bucky. They wanted to show people he was harmless, but you’re not sure putting him on live television was such a good idea. He glared down at every camera, and intimidated every interviewer despite their best efforts at making him look less intimidating. You tease him relentlessly when his days are over, but he begs you to stop watching them. You give in after day three when you keep hearing the same handful of answers.

With your time off, you almost don’t know what to do. You try filling every moment that you’re awake because if you think, you spiral. So you run, smoke a whole pack a day, and sometimes box.

On one of your slower days, you wander up to the roof. Not many people go up there, and Tony hates it when they do, but there’s two shitty plastic lawn chairs to gaze up at the stars. Everything feels unsettled and shifted, but just looking up and zoning out helped.

“I thought you quit years ago.” Steve moves the spare chair next to yours and it groans under his weight.

“No need to keep the clueless act, Stevie.” You stub the cigarette out anyway, knowing the smell still puts him off. Bucky had told you his anxieties only came from when he was a small kid with asthma before the serum. “Bucky let the cat out of the bag months ago.”

“Well, I’m surprised it never occurred to you sooner.”

“Just wanted to tell myself you didn’t notice I guess. I know how you feel about them.”

Steve stays quiet as he leans back, the chair creaking so loud you’re sure it’s going to break.

“How are you doing? Really. You never liked time off before.”

“No, I know. You were right. I needed it.” You sigh. “Everything feels kinda fucked. I’ve never really felt… lost. There was always an end goal somewhere. How did you always know that you were doing the right thing?”

“I didn’t.” He says honestly. You know it by the haunted look in his eyes. “But it always felt right. Sometimes things just don’t turn out, no matter how well you stick to the plan.”

“Right.” You look down to the gravel, still feeling a little small. Even when admitting he wasn’t always right, Steve felt so perfect to you. The great American hero, but in your eyes, the altruistic big brother. “Never did say sorry for the kid dying, did I?”

“No, y/n. You didn’t—“

“I’m not-“ you interrupt then sigh, trying to gather your words. Steve’s patient, watching you without judgment. “I’m not saying sorry for getting him killed. I already did that, but I’m just saying. He was on our team. I’m just sorry we lost someone on our team.”

“You lose people sometimes.”

“Still sucks though.”

“It does.”

It’s quiet as you both look up to watch the stars and the occasional plane fly by. You liked these little moments with him. He always knew how to lift your spirits, just the slightest bit, even if you were the one venting most of the time. You’re sure he’s just happy to see you not locked up in your room for days on end.

“I think I might need more time?” It comes out more as a question than a statement, feeling a sudden rush of tears.

“I’ll let Tony know.” He almost goes into work mode until he looks over at you looking a little crushed. “Come on. Sam’s back from his sisters and I know you love her cooking. Maybe Bruce will show you some of his new gadgets too.”

He leads you back to the roof door, holding it open for you. It’s almost too quiet in the elevator and you’ve honestly been dying to ask.

“So…” you start, turning to him with a sly grin. “Do I get to know her name?”

“Who?”

“The girl you’ve been seeing, Steve.” You roll your eyes. “You had a red kiss stain on your cheek all of Monday afternoon.”

His face turns as red as the lipstick that had been stuck to him and you almost double over in laughter.

“Buck is only gone for one more day, you know.”

Your laughter stops. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“If I recall correctly, you smelled a lot like Bucky's cologne when you came back Monday.”

“Can we rewind and I make fun of you for saying gadgets instead?”

You wait outside Bucky's building, bouncing anxiously as you hope you timed his departure from the compound correctly. Some passerby give you looks as you hang out on the edge of the curb, leaning casually against the car beside you. The roar of a motorcycle makes you perk up, turning just in time to catch him pulling up and killing the engine. You stay in your spot, two cars away as he removes his helmet and goes for his things. Not before acknowledging your presence of course. His hair has been trimmed since you’ve last seen him in person and his face is completely smooth. It makes him look less intimidating upon first glance, and you know for a fact the pepper made him do it. He had looked even less intimidating on tv, being dressed in lighter colored clothing, opposite of the black clothes he wears now.

“Steve said you weren’t around.” Bucky says when he’s standing in front of you, looking as antsy as you probably do.

“I was a little busy with this.” You gesture to the old and pale colored jeep wrangler behind you. “Ta-da!”

“It’s a jeep.” He states simply.

“Well. Yeah, but it’s my Jeep. That I drove alone.”

“Wait, you…” realization dawns on him and you quickly pull out the temporary paper one the dmv gave you.

“You’re looking at the new owner of a driver's license!” You barely show it off before he’s pulling you into a hug, spinning you around. He sets you down, hands lingering on your hips as you let out remnants of laughter.

“Everyone better watch out with that lead foot of yours, doll.”

You give his shoulder a good punch, which only makes him laugh. There’s a moment where you watch his eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Home always looked good on him, the bags under his eyes lessening from the inconsistent sleep. He just always looked happy to be in Brooklyn, that boyishness returning full force. He's taking a step back and picking up his bags that he dropped in excitement and invites you in with a nod toward his building.

“You could have let yourself in.” He says when you’re alone in the elevator.

“I don’t need your neighbors thinking I’m some crazy ex or something trying to break in.”

“Sounds like you need a key then.”

You hope you keep your cool, but by the smug look on his face, your shock is obvious.

“Beer?” Bucky offers, setting his bags down by the couch to be forgotten until later.

“Yes please.”

“We can sit out on the fire escape if you want a smoke.” He had noticed when your anxious energy hadn’t dissipated. “Go ahead. I’ll grab a few.”

You climb outside, taking a seat on one of the stools he’d placed there when you found yourselves there more often than on his couch. Your leg bounces because you’re going to tell him damn it. Avoiding the conversation is only going to make things worse. It already has if your fight was anything to go off of. His tags sit heavy on your chest, and you toy with them while he moves around his kitchen. He’d heard them clinking together when you walked, but he wasn’t going to bring it up until you did. He didn’t really have any real need for them, and he gave them to you for a reason. A promise. That didn’t have to end every time he came home. Plus, he imagined the simple chain looked great on you, and he can’t find it in himself to scold his brain for thinking of your chest. Not even naked. God, he’s become a simp. Even though he’s still not completely sure what that means.

His footsteps have you hiding the tags back underneath the collar of your shirt.

“Careful,” he warns when the bottle almost slips through your nervous hand. Grabbing your favorite pack of cigarettes from the window sill, he taps it against his palm a few times before slipping one out, lighting it and offering it to you.

“I’m quitting,” you blurt out.

“Oh.” He isn’t sure what to say as he rolls the cigarette between his fingertips, unsure of what to do with it now. “Steve get to you finally?”

“Not- I mean I do feel a little guilty now that I know he knows but, no. I’m not quitting smoking. I’m quitting the team, Buck. It’s why I got my license, a car.”

It’s quiet for a long time, and you avoid looking at him in fear of seeing the possible rejection on his face. Eventually, you take the cigarette he keeps playing with instead of smoking, and take in a long breath as he thinks to himself. You wait with baited breath, and when he looks at you calmly, you blow it out quickly.

“Where are you gonna go?” There’s concern hidden underneath the curiosity, but you’re able to decipher it from his tone.

“Not sure.” You shake your head as you offer it back, letting him take a drag as you steal a sip of beer. “They’re kind enough to scout a few places. Make sure it’s safe.”

“And what will you do?”

Turning your head, you smile softly as you shake your head once more. “I never really thought about that. What did you do in your time in Romania?”

No one’s asked him that out of genuine curiosity before. It was always accusatory or for the record. He’s taken by surprise, in all honesty.

“Whatever odd jobs I could find. Nothing with official paperwork.”

“Of course.” You respond softly, understanding it would have created problems. “Well, my offer still stands,” you tease a bit as you reach for your own beer. “I think it’d be fun to be roomies.”

“I can’t, sweets.” He looks to his lap dejectedly.

“No, I- I understand.” You try to not show the hurt despite not being fully serious about the offer. “Your home is in Brooklyn. It’ll probably be closer to Steve and Sam… and I was totally kidding.”

“I mean, I can’t. They want me for at least another year.”

“What? Who exactly is ‘they?’ Tony? Fury?”

“Don’t make a fuss,” he pleads. I’m not sure I’m worth all this, Steve.

“Why not?”

“Gotta pay my dues. It came with my parole.”

You stand, clenching your jaw as you move to lean over the railing. There’s a heavy sigh from behind you and the old fire escape creaks when he moves next to you.

“It’s not just about me having to work for them, is it?” He’s quiet, cautious.

“Who’s gonna look after you when I’m gone?”

“when it’s not you, it’s Steve.”

“Steve doesn’t make a fuss like I do.”

“Well, you both know how to make yourselves heard.” It makes your mouth twitch but you work hard to keep frowning. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

“It’s nice to have help though.”

“It is.” He smiles. “But you’ll visit and when you do, you can help me with normal things. Like when the damn tv misbehaves.”

“You need to be nicer to it or you’re buying another one.”

He chuckles softly, plucking the cigarette from between your fingers. As he takes a drag, you see the frown and stress line between his eyebrows. Tilting your head, you wait for it to dissipate along with the smoke, but it never does.

“What? Worried about me? I’ll be fine, Buck.”

He flicks the excess ash off with his thumb, watching some of it fall on his boot. “Your mother reached out to me. I guess Emily seeing me on tv sent her into a frenzy, but she said she wants to look for you again.”

“What did you say?” You wrap your arms around yourself, a nervous habit. It isn’t his fault she reached out, so you keep your anxiety from turning into anger.

“That Avengers don’t really take missing persons cases.” There’s an obvious pause, you realize, as he sticks the cigarette between his teeth to run his hands through his hair anxiously. “But that I would reach out to some of my contacts. That being… you.”

“I’m scared shitless.” You take the cigarette right from his mouth. At this point, you aren’t sure why you share when you both just end up stealing it from one another.

“I know that.” He leans against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re not sure if the railing or his shirt can handle the pressure. “It just got me thinking, if you’re getting out, it’s a good time to let them know. You don’t have to worry about anyone going after them. Worry about running into them either.”

“I think I’ll always worry.”

“I’ll go with you if you don’t think you can do it alone.”

“You would?” It surprises you. “You always said you didn’t want to go with me to meet them. That you’d rather lose another arm.”

“I never-“ he sighs, defeated, realizing he may have said it once facetiously. “I was being a coward. Couldn’t do it for my sister, so how could I do it for you?”

“Your sister was alive?”

“Passed before we became friends.”

“Buck…”

“Look, it’s not about me, sweets.” He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your chest presses against him and you’re sure he can feel your heart racing. “You want me there?”

“Yes.” You wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing him into a tight hug. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn evidently.”

You pinch his ribs, making him yelp in surprise.

You let Bucky reach out to your mom, too afraid to do it yourself. She answers almost instantly and then you’re met with the fact that you actually have to set up a time to meet. You’re too overwhelmed so you let her pick, and when the day finally arrives, you think you’re going to be sick.

“We aren’t taking your bike?” You practically pout when you meet with Bucky at his place to go meet your parents.

“We can if you really want, but I was afraid Emily would want a ride and I’m not putting your mother through that kind of stress.”

“Oh, you make a good point.” The nerves come through in your tight laugh.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes!” You answer all too quickly. “Yes. It’s just… it's been awhile since I’ve done the whole train thing.” It’s only a half lie on why you were acting so nervous, but you don’t have to explain for him to know.

“I’ll be close by.” Bucky holds his arm out for you to loop yours through and leads you to the subway.

It’s jam packed for the middle of the day, but Bucky takes care of the passes, what platform you need to be at and when. Anything to prevent you from getting any more stressed than you already are. On the train, you’re pressed into Bucky, your back meeting his front. When the train moves and you bump further into him, unable to get a hold of anything in time, he just reaches around to hold you in place.

“I got ya,” he whispers into your neck, making your stomach flip over.

You burrow further into him, arm resting over his, and pretend to hide into him. It just was hard being in the same city you were taken, on a train no less on your way to school, but you knew how to blend in with ease. You know even better that kirsch could never take you again, assured many times by Steve that you had gone through with that plan, and he was buried alone. You could always use your anxiety to your advantage to get lost in a crowd, but Bucky keeps you in place easily. Ignoring your obvious nail biting, a curse to yourself as you loved Natasha’s flawless natural nails, he only swats at your hand once.

When you get off the train and head above ground, Bucky gets distracted by a floral stand along the way. Despite your eye rolling, you’re endeared by his insistence of getting flowers any time he meets a girl's mother. You think you might get down on one knee when he gets a single rose for your little sister. Your palms begin to sweat when you enter the park you agreed to meet at and when you see your mom and dad sitting on a bench watching your sister, you stop.

“Oh,” you breathe out, feeling like all the air has escaped your lungs.

“You okay?” Bucky brings a hand to your lower back, worried by the look on your face.

“Yeah I just- it’s really happening.” You turn to look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed with worry. “Just scared… give me one second to take it all in.”

“Take all the time you need, sweets.”

“Maybe we should’ve rethought the flowers.” You turn to him quickly, too afraid to be the one to catch your parents attention first. “Or the whole thing.”

“Y/N—“

“My mother is a florist for christ's sake,” you try to argue. “The carnations were a terrible idea. Why’d I let you get away with that?”

“I’m not sure that matters at this point.”

Turning, you see your mother, and then consequently your father, both watching you in happy shock.

“Oh, my baby.” You hear your mom's voice crack as she stands from the bench, just as afraid as you are to move any closer. You do when she takes a tentative step forward, hand pressed against her own chest. Nearly running, you collide into the both of them, arms wrapping around them desperately as they cling on to you just as tight.

“Hi,” is all you can muster against your mom's shoulder.

“You’ve- well you’ve grown!” She lets out a wet laugh as she takes you in, almost in disbelief at what she was seeing.

“It’s been, um, awhile.” You try to blink the tears away. Glancing behind you, Bucky stands where you left him. You wave him over subtly, not fully prepared to be on your own. “Mom, you’ve met Bucky.”

“Yes! Mr. Barnes,” she holds out a hand which he takes before offering the flowers.

“Mr. Bucky! Mr. Bucky!” Emily comes bounding up to all of you, ponytail bouncing. “You did it? You found her?”

“He did.” You kneel down to get to her level. “You must be Emily.”

She looks up at you in awe, and it’s a little shy, but she hugs you to cover it up. Bucky gives you the single rose to give her, and she jumps in excitement. The questions begin, and Bucky is quick to pick up on your nervous glances to your little sister. You had promised full transparency, but you wanted to filter what the little five year old got to hear. He offers to take her on a quick walk, which your dad seems hesitant about, but you reassure him quickly. Then you’re all sitting and they look at you too expectantly. It’s hard at first, telling them how scared you were and what all you went through, and maybe you lighten up a few details. The tears in their eyes never go away, and when you explain what Steve and the rest of the team did for you, your mother looks relieved.

“Sorry, but why now?” Your father asks innocently.

“What do you mean?”

“You said that man, Kirsch, died six years ago, right? How come you didn’t reach out sooner?”

You look away, unsure at first, but then you see Bucky holding your little sister's hand, and laughing at some story she’s expertly telling. The answer is almost entirely her. They got another girl, and they didn’t have to worry about you any more, but in all honesty, when Tony found your parents' information, Emily didn’t exist at all. Your parents were still in grief and in denial. You aren’t sure what changed. Maybe it was the fact that Emily just happened to be a surprise, and they figured they could try again. Without you. So you had agreed to join the team instead of facing rejection or disappointment.

“I dunno,” your voice is small as you look at your hands. “I- I was an assassin. Didn’t think there was much redemption in that.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“Look, I know that you’re my parents and you’ll love me no matter what, but you said that when I was a kid. I stopped being that kid the day I got taken and I’ve killed people. it just- the idea of you being disappointed just made me too scared.”

Neither of them try to give you any platitudes. Instead, they hug you tight, and let you cry. No one tries to carry the blame over anyone else. You’ve all somehow come to that silent agreement. They just end up doing exactly what you need, love you.

“Em sure is a firecracker.” You comment once the tears are over and she’s begged Bucky to let her hang from his prosthetic arm just ‘one more time!’

“Wonder where she gets that from,” your father teases, side-eyeing you. “I should probably relieve your friend there.”

“Friend, hm?” Your mother nudges your shoulder when your dad is far enough away.

“Okay,” you roll your eyes. “Yes. Bucky is a friend.”

“A friend who brought your mother flowers.”

“He’s old fashioned.”

Your mother hums, not quite believing you, and drops it. But when he gives you a smile over his shoulder, you seem unable to.

“He’s… complicated.” Your shoulders and smile drop when his attention is taken away. “We both sort of are. I’m not sure it’ll go anywhere.”

“How come?”

“I’m quitting the whole avenging thing. Moving somewhere else. Close enough to see you guys of course, but…”

“Far enough to make it complicated with him?”

“It’s all a bit complicated.” You sigh.

“Let life settle down again. It’ll surprise you.”

After you all grab a quick bite to eat, you part ways, accepting too many stickers from your little sister on the way. On the train back, you’re both able to sit, and you recall the way your parents had looked exactly the same, just a little older. You have to retrace their faces from old memories to remember the way they look now.

“You’re staring.” You tell Bucky on the third stop.

“Just… observing.” You give him a pointed look at his response you gave him too many times. “I’m proud of you for doing that.”

“Oh my god,” you balk. “Do not make me cry on this train!”

“I’m serious!”

“I know, but I swear to god, if I cry one more time today…” you leave the empty threat out in the open, face softening at his sincerity. “Thank you.”

“So, when is your last mission?” He changes the subject to work quickly.

“My last mission was my last one.”

“Oh, so you’re just done now?” He almost seems disappointed by that.

“Well, Steve’s putting me on desk duty until I decide what to do. Where to go. Thinking I might actually get some sort of degree.”

“Don’t you have enough credits for at least three?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, apparently they’re begging Tony to make me decide. I’ll have to take a few extra to, you know, finish it out, but I dunno. Maybe linguistics since I have the most credits for that, but what actual paying job can I get with that?”

“You’ll figure it out. You’ve got time.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” You pout and play with the zipper of his leather jacket. “So. Your sister.” Bucky sighs because he knew you wouldn’t be able to drop it, but he isn’t annoyed. “Was she the same one from the photo of you dancing?”

“Yes, Rebecca.”

“It’s okay you couldn’t go see her.” You’re cautious, watching his posture and facial expressions closely. “I wish you could have, though.”

“I was still recovering.” They hadn’t even given him his new arm, yet. “I’m not sure they would’ve even entertained the idea, and I know that just makes you mad, but…”

“No, I get it.” You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth even through the layers. “I was on a short leash too. Still haven’t decided if it was good or not, but they unfortunately had a very good point.”

“You’re still a flight risk sometimes,” he teases.

“I think I’ve found my reason to stay.”

Laying your head on his shoulder, you let the noise of the subway take over between you.

Tapping your pen against your desk, you try to not let your head drop from boredom. Steve was right in saying you were never good with time off, but you didn’t realize desk work would be ten times worse. You yearn to text your fellow teammates about any and all updates on their respective missions, begging for the nitty gritty details. You’ll even take having to hear about a black eye adorning Bucky’s face for the sake of your brain not rotting, but they give you nothing. Everything seems to go perfect, and you’re left bitterly tapping your pen as you stare at numbers. It’s been three weeks of this. You had even bought matching pants and blazers in excitement. The initial giddiness in a change of pace had worn off quickly, and you became a part of the corporate drones you had heard so much about from your endless journey of media deep dives. You honestly consider starting a fight. Drama. Something.

A knock on your cubicle brings you out of your wallowing. Bucky, a beautiful reprieve, stands with a takeout bag in hand.

“What’s this?” You eye him warily, but smile at the interruption.

“Heard the fridge busted and you lost your lunch for the day.” He has this knowing look, like he had heard your grumbled curses and banging a fist on the fridge door that morning. It wasn’t your proudest moment. “Have you taken your break yet?”

“No.” Your grin grows bigger, the thought of getting Bucky for an entire hour uninterrupted making your skin crawl with anticipation. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Take your break with me and you’ll find out, doll.”

You find a bench outside, looking out to the large field, and he unpacks the food for you. You’re giddy as he hands the take out bowl of dim sum. The sun feels warm on your skin, and you’re just relieved to get out of the dreary office.

“Are you sleeping okay?” Bucky looks over your face once more, but you’ve covered the heavy bags underneath your eyes with makeup. A skill you’ve learned over the years to hide any injuries if necessary for work.

“Is this a friendly lunch or an interrogation?” Your voice is light, almost teasing to hide the nervous pain you feel from the question. If his intention hadn’t been because you couldn’t take your lunch, it would almost feel like a betrayal.

“Friendly.” His frown deepens, insulted by your insinuation. “I want to know you’re okay. You’ve been… small.”

“Small?” A soft laugh escapes at that.

“You’re usually so present and there, but these past few weeks,” he looks down and shakes his head. “I can see your mind wandering, and you’re not here much anymore. Just don’t want to see you that bad again.”

“Well, I’ve been leaving my room.” Your hands find something to fidget with, and you’re hesitant to look at him.

“Sweets,” he sets down his bowl and takes your nervous hands. Looking him in the eye, you can see a million words processing in his mind as he searches in your eyes. “I can help. If you want it or need it.”

“Buck,” you roll your eyes, unable to keep this conversation serious. “You help me just fine.”

“You swear?” He looks for your tells, but comes up empty. He looks so scared and you can’t seem to understand why. Why would someone worry so much about you? “No night terrors? Anything?”

“There’s… been a few nightmares, but look,” you wave off his worry, letting one of your hands escape. He refuses to let the other one go, slotting your fingers together in urgency. “I’m getting out of bed and going to a mind numbing job everyday. That’s good, right? I normally just… wallow in self pity. I’m not great, but I’m good, Buck. No need to stress.”

“Y/N, I…” he hesitates, watching the microexpressions in your face change at the use of your name. No cute terms of endearment. You soften so much, he stops himself from telling you outright that he loves you. Because he can see the tiredness in your eyes despite your expert makeup skills, and he tells himself to wait just a little longer. It isn’t the right time, and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you any more than you already are. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Nat wants to take me out for drinks tonight. As an unofficial goodbye party. Why don’t you come?” You want to prove to him that you’re doing fine, even though you would much rather get in bed early with a book.

“Can’t.” He looks sheepish as he picks his lunch back up. “Doing some recon later.”

“Well, I appreciate this, thank you.”

The sharp sound of knocking interrupts you from getting ready, hair halfway pulled back as you were about to fix your makeup. You’re afraid it’s Nat, as you get up to open the door, having shown up early. Bucky leans heavily against the doorframe. He’s beat up pretty good, bottom lip busted and scattered bruises littering his face. There’s dirt on his tac gear that he still has on, but most of all he looks tired.

“I didn’t know you were back so soon.”

“Finished early,” he grumbles out. Taking note of his leaning, your eyes fall down his arm, and you see blood on his hand that presses into his side.

“Jesus, buck!” Without a second thought, you pull him into your room. Both of you stumble over his weight as he leans against you heavily.

“‘M fine,” he mumbles as you drop him a bit unceremoniously onto the love seat in front of the window.

“I- we…” Normally you’re more level headed than this, but you usually have the time to get in the proper head space before missions. A surprise visit covered in blood was going to give you some panic. “I need to go get help.”

Just before you can walk away, Bucky’s free hand grabs your wrist. “They taught you how to stitch someone up, didn’t they?”

“Yes, but this requires a trip to the infirmary. Not my bedroom.” You gesture vaguely to his still bleeding wound.

“I’m not going to the infirmary.” he says firmly, the grip he has on your wrist tightening slightly.

“You are bleeding on my couch.” You can see where it just starts to soak into the material. That stain will never come out, you know it.

“I don’t need it to be perfect. Just something to get me by for the next few days.” It wasn’t going to take long to heal, but that didn’t mean they could just leave it be and hope for the best. “Come on, before someone overhears.”

Rolling your eyes with a dramatic huff, you pull your wrist from his grasp to go close the door. Not before poking your head out into the hallway, looking for any signs of life. When you know you’re in the clear, you close her door, and head straight for the bathroom. While shuffling in the cabinet underneath the sink for the kit you swear you own, you raise your voice slightly to speak to him.

“We need to stop the bleeding before I can do anything.” You almost shout in victory when you spot the red box, and grab a few towels. “First we’ll need to get your shirt off.”

As he struggles out of his layers, you drag your nightstand closer to lay out all of the items as neatly as you can. Taking one of the hand towels, you have him hold it firmly in place so you can go scrub your hands clean. It’s nearly soaked through by the time you find a comfortable position to work in.

“Let me see?” You ask softly.

Your hands hover over his as he peels the towel back with a tiny wince. It wasn’t as much as you’d like but you could work with it. Using the same towel, you hold it under the wound, pouring disinfectant over it and then patting it dry. He tries to not hiss in pain the entire time, jaw clenched tight. While you turn to get the needle and thread ready, he slings his arm over the back of the couch to grant you easy access.

“What were you thinking?” You ask quietly, the needle going through his skin easily.

“Yippee, I’m a hero,” Bucky deadpans.

“You seem to have forgotten I’m the one stitching you up. Should I check for a concussion too? Maybe terminal dumbass disorder while we’re at it.”

“What do you want me to say?” He flinches when you stab him harshly out of anger.

“I don’t like you going on solo missions.” Shaking your head softly, you keep focus on the task at hand rather than his reaction to that. “You should have asked me to come along. I was probably the only one who didn’t have anything going on.”

“You said you had the night off.”

You hum softly, not impressed with his lame excuse. “Well, now I get to end it by cleaning a stain that might never come out.”

“Shit,” he mutters, not having realized the blood reached the cushions. Without thinking, he moves to check the damage.

“Hey, hey, whoa!” Your hand falls onto his stomach to steady him, nearly having pierced his skin in the wrong place. “Easy, hotshot. I’m not quite finished yet.”

Your hand glides over his skin before returning back to where it had been previously.

“Got blood on your dress too.” Bucky mumbles, taking the fabric between the fingertips of his free hand.

“It’s okay, I-“ you laugh softly, bashful as his skin grazes against your legs. “I didn’t really want to go.”

“How come?”

“I dunno. Maybe Nat would say I’m looking for a reason to back out, but I’d rather be here with you. Bloody or not.”

There’s a thick silence as his hand falls on your thigh, squeezing in surprise by the admission. You scoff, returning to your needlework so you don’t get embarrassed by looking him in the eye.

“God, that sounded corny. I just- well, it’s true. I don’t wanna go to a bar full of strangers where some guy is probably going to hit on me or insult me by accident. Probably wouldn’t put up with me torturing him with candy or cheesy movies that physically make you cringe. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I want a guy who’s gonna dance with me because he knows I never have. If… if that makes sense.”

It’s a full admission, he’s beginning to realize. It’s him. You want him. Even though you can’t make yourself say the words, he still knows you mean it. Because you wouldn’t be shaking otherwise. You had the steadiness of a sharpshooter, and the only time you faltered was when feelings got involved. You’re so close, it doesn’t take much movement for his lips to capture yours, causing you to freeze and almost drop the needle. His hand slides up your thigh, sneaking underneath the skirt of your dress because he needs to feel your warmth. To know that he’s actually kissing the woman of his dreams.

“Hey,” you whisper against his lips, laughter bubbling in your throat. Pulling back, you see the slight fear in his eyes. “I should finish this up before we… do whatever, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be fine.” He leans back in, but frowns when a hand on his chest stops him. Albeit a little dramatically, he throws his head back on the couch and lets your gentle hands continue working. It’s silent for a while, and while you’re tying the knot to finish, he speaks again. “I think you should stay.”

“Buck,” your shoulders drop at that, and set the tools down. “I can’t. They’ve already found a place for me. I’m supposed to be getting a fresh start. I mean… how are we supposed to do this? Won’t it just be–”

“Complicated?”

Your face burns in embarrassment. “You heard that?”

“Doll,” he shakes his head, not wanting you to worry about that, and holds your cheek in his flesh hand, thumb tracing a circle along your jaw. “It’s now or never. I already thought I would lose you when you leave.”

“Of course you won’t!”

“You’ve got everyone here. Wasn’t I your reason for staying?”

“Yes, but I–” you realize you’re doing it again. You’re running away to avoid the hard feelings. The fear of rejection or worse. Loss. “Steve’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Who cares?”

Fuck.

“I’m scared.” Your voice shakes along with the hand that you bring up to the nape of his neck, and press your forehead against his.

“That’s okay, sweets. I am too.”

“Okay.” You breathe out as you close your eyes. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Bucky kisses you like you’re leaving, but he stays, wrapped in your arms until the exhaustion makes him sleep.

Tag list:

@buckymcbuckbarnes @enchantedbarnes @buckybarnesowl (if I mistakenly tagged you, I'm sorry. I lost my tag list and tried to figure out who asked)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #co-a #my writing

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redrobin-detective · 2 years

Text

clouds between their knees

‘Robin, anything on your end?’ Batman asked over the comm. There’d been rumors of a gang meeting tonight with multiple possible locations. Bats took the most likely one while Robin, Batgirl and Spoiler were checking out the others. Cass and Steph’s leads were busts so Kon was prepared to take a peek before grappling to B’s location. And if his grapple was a little loose and he was going a little too fast, well who could tell otherwise?

“Not yet,” Kon grunted quietly as he shimmied quickly in through the broken window and down into the warehouse. “It’s dark in here so I’m not expecting much but I’ll check just to be sure.” It would be quicker to fly or just bust down the whole wall but Batman taught him better than that over the last three years. Besides, it wasn’t just his legacy he was messing with. Unlike when he was Superboy, he was part of something bigger and had people in his corner.

“Ok, I’m in,” he gracefully landed on the dusty floor and crept forward. He flipped up the lenses of his domino to do a quick Xray sweep and Bingo! Conner grinned when he took in the scene happening below him. “Jackpot B, I got the high beams up and there’s a hidden basement. I see Black Mask and, oh man, Red Hood is out in the open. We finally got him.”

‘Do not engage without me, I’m coming on your location now. 15 minutes,’ Batman said before signing off. Kon wanted to roll his eyes, his dad was so overprotective sometimes.

‘You better bring him in. As much as I love helping Oracle, I am So tired of house arrest,’ Tim grumbled over the line.

‘He’s made vocal threats against Robin, it was necessary,’ Batman grunted. Even if he wasn’t bulletproof, he wouldn’t let Tim go out with some maniac with Robin vendetta on the loose. Tim always groaned that Kon took Robin whenever there were dangerous missions as if he was secretly hoping to get maimed and killed. Sometimes it was a full time job keeping his big brother from self destructing.

“I won’t engage B but it’s sealed up good so I can’t see or hear much. I’m gonna get into the vents and get more intel for when you arrive,” Kon said as he quickly cased the empty warehouse before finding a space just big enough for him to wedge into. He really hoped he didn’t inherit Clark’s big shoulders because this would be impossible if he were any bigger. It was already getting harder for him and Tim to share the Robin name and pretend they were the same person.

He lightened his weight a bit as he made his way through until he had a good view of the proceedings. Looks like they were arguing over the ‘green stuff’, ugh lame, couldn’t they just say money but something caught his attention.

“Hood looked up at me,” Kon whispered thoughtfully. As soon as Kon had come into the vent, Hood’s helmet had twitched ever so slightly in his direction. Kon didn’t like to brag but he was pretty good at what he did, it would be next to impossible for some hood to clock him that far away. “Could be a coincidence or he might had infrared or motion detectors in his helmet. If he’s been this hard to track down then we should treat him with caution, we don’t what kind of gear and intel he has.”

‘Oh nice to see we were able to train that muscle in your skull,’ Tim quipped as he snacked on something over the line.

“You’re just mad you can’t lift a cruise liner over your head, Boy Wimpy,” Kon bantered back even as he started slowly backing up.

‘Robin get out of there, now,’ Batman hushed as Red Hood leisurely stood up from the table and stretched suddenly, interrupting Black Mask mid sentence. Kon froze, worried about making any noise.

“This has been fun, Maskie but I’m afraid we’ll need to negotiate the terms of your unconditional surrender to me later,” Hood said lazily. His posture was casual but he was tense underneath. “We’ve got some visitors I’ve been meaning to talk to. So why don’t you put an egg in your shoe and fuck off,” he said before pulling a machine gun from underneath the table and began firing up at the vents.

‘Conner!’ He heard Tim and Bruce yell over the comms but Kon was too busy trying to get out as fast as he could. But the space was tight and currently being slammed full of bullets. Dozens of them bounced against his armor and skin and he thanked whoever would listen that he was out here instead of one of the others. He had almost retreated into the safer part of the vents when the whole thing collapsed on him.

He yelped and fell gracelessly onto the floor of the basement. Kon groaned for effect and pretended to curl up and nurse some injuries. He was really reaching inside his belt for smoke capsules and batarangs. Probably should leave some of the fake blood before he split, just to add to the illusion.

“Aw, the little birdie fell out of its nest,” Hood cooed, hefting the machine over one shoulder. “I thought I told you to scram, Sionis. If you’re not out of here in the next 30 seconds I’m putting holes in you, this one and I need to have a conversation.”

Kon heard the harried footsteps of Mask heading for the hills as Hood stomped forward, kicking away bits of the vent as he approached.

“I was hoping one of you brats would show tonight, especially you. I’ve almost got everything put in place so I’m finally ready to have some fun,” he said with a laugh in his voice as he slammed his boot into Kon’s gut. The boot was heavy, steel tipped and would probably have broken ribs but he didn’t really feel anything. Couldn’t say the same for Hood.

“Goddamn!” The crime lord shouted, jumping away and grabbing at his foot. “The hell is in your armor kid? How can you lug that heavy thing around?” Well Kon couldn’t always avoid getting shot so they had to make armor that was thicker, wouldn’t take damage so he could just pretend the bad guys missed. Plus he barely felt the extra weight even though it was heavier than B’s suit. “Guess I should be glad ole Brucie is taking better care of birds this time around.”

Thomas Conner Wayne tensed on the ground, his plans of escaping lost for a second. How could Hood possibly know that name? What was Kon gonna do about it?

“I’m gonna give you a present, Replacement,” Hood spat out. “A lot better than I got. I’m gonna beat the hell out of you, within an inch of your miserable, little life and then I’m gonna set the timer to blow this warehouse. I’ll give you a chance, won’t tie you up or stop you,” he leaned down close to Kon’s face, “I just wanna see if Bats really upgraded, if you’re better than the last one.” He straightened out.

“And don’t think Daddy Bat Wings is gonna come save your sorry ass, I know he was down by the docks. I made him think the meeting would be there so my crew is gonna divert him juuuust long enough for me to do what I need to. So,” there was a scraping sound, something dragging across the floor. “Shall we begin?”

Kon dove out of the way of what looked like a crowbar and crouched to his feet. He was still pretending to be injured but he needed to get out of here. Of course Hood couldn’t actually hurt him but it wouldn’t do for him to know that. They danced and dodged for a minute or two, but Hood was Good with a capital G. Kon was throwing all his skills and tools into trying to take the gangster down but it really was hard to avoid the vicious onslaught. The man got in a few hits every once in a while and Kon tried to react but he knew it wasn’t good enough and the man was suspicious.

“The hell is Bruce feeding you? Why won’t you stay down you little punk?” Hood yelled, whipping Kon hard across the face with the crowbar. He stumbled back against the table where a small box had been sitting. It knocked onto the floor and exposed something inside. Something green. Immediately, Kon’s knees buckled.

“Shit,” he groaned quietly to himself as he tried to inch away from the deadly rock but it was sapping all his energy. He’d only been exposed to Kryptonite once, at the Fortress because Bruce had insisted he knew what it felt like. But he was such a dad he only made Conner suffer a minute before he closed the box and took him home to Alfred for cookies. He didn’t think that’s how this story would end. He gagged as his stomach rolled and his lungs seized and if he could just move a little further away... Hood just stood there watching in stunned disbelief.

“Are you shitting me?” He asked quietly, stalking forward with surprising softness. Hood moved so much like a Bat, it was unnerving. “I brought that to prove to Mask that I really had stolen his shipment but it led me to an even bigger score.” He scooted the box closer to Kon who finally collapsed from the strain. “Now how did he get his hands on you, I wonder?”

“I’m sorry,” Kon whispered but he wasn’t talking to Hood, he was talking into the comm still plugged into his ear. “I’m sorry, I love you guys.”

“Get away from my brother!” Like some kind of angel, Kon’s blurry vision saw someone drop down from the hole in the vents and slam into Hood. He grabbed the box containing the Kryptonite and slammed it shut. Kon felt like he could breathe again. “Robin, get up. B’s delayed but I got a car outside.” It was Tim, hastily dressed in his Robin uniform and looking more mad than Kon had ever seen him.

“There’s two of you?” Hood cackled, swinging his crowbar. “Oh that’s rich, are you twins? Tell me, did he steal you from the Flashes or the Atom perhaps? you’re certainly small enough. Bad enough he replaced me once but twice over? That’s just cruel, Dad.”

“Robin, I said, get up!” Tim yelled, swinging his staff which Hood dodged. They didn’t work together often since they were playing the same role but Tim’s fighting prowess always left him in awe. And furious like he was now, he was doing a number to Hood. With the box shut, more of Kon’s strength returned until he was able to stagger to his feet. Tim was holding his own but, as Kon had discovered, the Red Hood was beast. He couldn’t do much as Tim was tossed around and slammed into the wall. His skin bruised, he bled as Hood got a knife against his throat with one hand while he unclipped his helmet with the other.

Conner had never given much thought to Jason Todd. No one really talked about him, only Tim when they snuck into each other’s rooms for sleepovers. From the way Tim described him with starry eyes, Jason had been bold but kind, sensitive and intelligent. The man before them was nothing like that, his pale face flushed with anger and his green eyes positively glowing with hate.

“Look at this,” He said gesturing to his knife covered in Tim’s blood. “You’re just as human as I am but we don’t matter, do we? We’re just pawns in his game, pawns he’ll sacrifice if he thinks it’ll give an advantage to his precious mission. That lug over there? He’s not just a pawn, he’s a knight. When B’s chewed up and spit out the rest of us, at least he’ll have his Kryptonian lapdog to keep the legacy going. I suggest you ditch the tights before you end up in the grave next to mine.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Kon hissed, bodyslamming into Hood to get him away from Tim. He ripped the knife out of his hands and threw him roughly onto the table in the middle of the room. He laid there, not moving and Kon didn’t care right now if he was dead or not. He needed to get Tim help. Tim grabbed onto the box, holding it shut while Kon grabbed his brother and flew them out of the basement and into the smoggy Gotham sky.

XxX

“Hey, you awake?” Tim groaned and turned to look at Kon. It wasn’t unusual to have his brother at his bedside in the medical portion of the Cave. It was weird to see him on the cot next to him with the sunlamp on him. His face was still pale with a sickly green tinge to it but he seemed okay.

“Ugh why does my mouth taste like plastic?” Tim gripped, wiping clumsily at his face.

“Alf had to sedate you, your throat needed stitches and you were pretty banged up everywhere else,” Kon frowned and turned to look up at the ceiling. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt at all.”

“No one knew Hood would be there or that there was Kryptonite in Gotham. There was literally nothing you could have done,” Jason’s crazed face sprang to mind. “No one saw that one coming.”

“I’m not gonna go easy next time,” Kon growled. “He hurt you, he wanted to do some messed up torture thing and that could’ve been you and I don’t care that he used to be a Bat. As far as I’m concerned, he ain’t anymore.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Clark said, coming out of nowhere looking tired himself. He was still dressed in pajamas, Bruce must’ve called him in a panic. “How’re you boys holding up?”

“Been better,” Tim said at the same time as Kon. Tim snickered at Clark’s eyeroll. He should know better by now that they were a packaged deal. “How’s Bruce taking the revelation?”

“He sat here through your treatments but as soon as he heard you both were okay he buried himself in his work. I,” Clark paused. “I think he’ll need you again to get him through this, Tim. You saw how he was when Jason died. This won’t be pretty. Conner, we’d heard a large shipment of Kryptonite had been stolen but we didn’t think it had come through Gotham. We’ll be keeping tabs trying to track it down and out of enemy hands.”

“Appreciate that,” Kon groaned, “that sucked ass.”

“It might help to get out of the city for a bit,” Clark suggested cautiously and got Tim’s hackles up. “Bruce has the best sunlamps money can buy but it’s nothing like the real thing. Ma would love to take you for a week or two, to get your strength up. Or you could stay with Lois and I in Metropolis.”

“Thanks but my family is here and they need me,” Kon said shortly, rolling over to face away from Clark. Tim glared hard at the Super until he had the sense to back off.

“Right, of course, I’ll let you two rest and if you need me I’ll um...” He shuffled off, presumably to try and get B out of his own head. Tim huffed away his aggression.

Years ago, Clark hadn’t wanted the responsibility of taking Conner full time but now suddenly he was around all the time. He’d heard from B that Clark wasn’t happy with the current arrangement. He was upset that Kon was adopted while Tim was still living with his dad, that Kon took up Robin alongside Tim, upset that he hasn’t been Superboy in years and doesn’t use his powers while in costume. He’d had his chance to make a family, a legacy with Conner but now he was Tim’s brother and he’d open that Kryptonite box on the man if he tried to take Kon away.

“Kon-”

“I’m fine, Tim,” Conner said sharply. “Look, I’m not going anywhere especially not when all this is going down. I may be a Super in blood but I’m a Bat in every way that counts.” He turned and scooted over so they were face to face and whispered quietly so Clark couldn’t hear. “So how’re we gonna stop Jay before it tears Bruce apart?”

“I have some ideas,” Tim grinned. It ached that it had come to this, his idol rising from the grave to become a criminal. But Conner had become his brother over the days, months and years of training and school and stupid shenanigans. No one, not even Robin could come between them because they were Robin. Stronger together than they were alone. That’s what it meant to be a Bat.

#super robin au #I had to write last nights for context but This idea is what I really wanted to convey #Kon out in the field acting human but quietly using his powers here and there #tim and kon being super tight bros tag teaming as rbin #Jay being Hella confused why his torture isn't working #I was halfway through when I rememebered in UtRH comic that Jay stole a bunch of Kryptonite from Mask #and I threw back my head and LAUGHED so viciously #poor kon #also no clark bashing #he means well but hes really upset by this arangement #he thinks its cruel to keep Kon in a city with no sun #to put him in another's suit and tell them to share #to hide who he is with his powers #they've worked out custody things but he Does care for Conner and want what's best for him #he just have diffrent ideas on 'best'#I wanted to explore how this affects clark and bruces relationship but another fic i guess #also I Really need to get o bed this got long #so another 'post now edit later fic'

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softguarnere · 2 years

Note

Hey, Dove! I'll take a shot and request a ship, if it's okay hehe

So, I may seem hostile or annoyed at first sight but actually I'm not (just tired lol)

I'm smol but there's a lot of rage in me I can't express so i collect knives/ go to tirs/ punch walls/ lift weights so this keeps me from punching faces instead (and gives me wounded knuckles). I'm a bit of stubborn and it's often pisses people off. I'm a writer and I hope that one day it'll be my future and life's work. I'm protecting and more giving than receiving person. I'll kill, die, or do a war crime for someone I care about. My love languages are gifts and touch. I really like to comfort and praise my frens hehe

Tryna be stoic and non-showing my emotions and most of the time I am. Tho, deep inside I'm screaming wildly. When I need to vent I isolate myself for a while 'cause I don't wanna show my drama queen side

At first I'm cold and don't talk much, but when we're friend I won't shut up about my bullshut for hours

I love tough people with a heart of gold and people with whom I can evolve and educate together, talk for hours about something interesting or philosophical

or just sit in silence and gaze at the stars (or maybe telling some myths about them)

I hope it's not too much hehe, anyway thank you for your time ❤️

Hi love! Of course it's okay to request a ship :) (although this is my first time doing this kind of thing, so bare with me)

I ship you with . . .

George Luz!

It was honestly between him and Joe Toye, but I honestly kind of get Toye vibes from your personality, which is what makes me think that you and Luz would work so well together. You guys would be a dynamic duo, in my humble opinion

Because Luz is such an open book (most of the time), your personalities just work really well together because you keep each other in balance. You're there to remind him when things need to be more serious, and he's there to help other people get to know the real you better

Omg he would be so so supportive of your writing, are you kidding me? He just wants to see you succeed. You need space to finish writing a chapter? That's cool -- he'll have dinner or a hot mug of coffee/tea ready for when he sees you again. You want someone to bounce ideas off of? He's your guy. You want someone in the room with you, not to talk, but just so you don't have to be alone while you work? Well, he'll try his best to be quiet, but no promises

One of his love languages is also touch, so you guys are basically attached at the hip -- always brushing elbows, holding hands, or knocking your knees together under the table. It's very sweet. (Well, except for the time you thought you were playing footsie with him under the table in that bar, and it turned out to be Babe, but that's another story; you got a good laugh out of it, though)

I know I've said this headcanon before in other posts, but I 👏 stand 👏 by 👏 it👏: sometimes George gets a little too in his head, and you just gotta hold him. Since you're good at comforting people, he always knows to come to you when he's feeling down. (And honestly, the praise that you give him afterword is some sort of magic potion, because he bounces back FAST after that)

But at the same time, if you need to isolate yourself, he'll respect that. But he's also there to listen if you need to vent. And when you want to talk about the things that interest you? He could sit for hours listening to you talk, and just having conversations -- however deep, or even silly -- long into the night. And if you want to stay up late and gaze at the stars in the silence of the night? He's there. Maybe not so silently, and maybe not sitting so still, but he will be there for you

He just loves being around you, it's so sweet

Everyone changes after the war, but you guys evolve together. After everything that you see and go through, you still have each other's backs at the end of the day, because you can see through to each other's true selves

Thanks for tasking a risk with being my first request! I hope you enjoyed this 💕🕊️

#band of brothers ships #my writing #hey look! I only used italics once!#it's a Christmas miracle #george luz #tumblr friends #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers #george luz x reader #band of brothers x reader

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trifoliate-undergrowth · 2 years

Text

Vent incoming!

So the other day at work I was just walking normally and my lower back seized up and I almost fell, then had trouble getting back up from a crouch for the rest of the day. It was more “muscles clenching spasmodically” than real pain, though it did ache as the day went on, but that’s honestly scarier as far as I’m concerned, because of the feeling that I’m going to lose my balance and fall down. (This is not a regular thing, thus my alarm)

I am losing my mind about this on several levels! One, it reminds me of my mom and this of course elicits a knee-jerk OH GOD I’M GOING TO BECOME A HORRIBLE PERSON LIKE HER emotional response even though I know that’s ridiculous lol. But yeah, I don’t think I’ve mentioned it in my mom vents because it wasn’t a part of her being an asshole to me, it was just a trait she had (see I logically understand the difference) but she has scoliosis and severe back problems on top of all the other health issues. I also have scoliosis because I have her genetics, but it’s mild and I’ve been hoping it never causes serious issues. Hasn’t so far though once or twice would act up a bit like this (though not quite like this with the seizing up) after I slept on it wrong or something. But then, mom didn’t start having real trouble until she was older, either. From what I’ve heard she was fine when she was my age. So maybe it just hasn’t happened yet. So there’s the element of having to whack-a-mole slap down the “Oh no, I share a trait with my mom who sucks, I am her and also suck” stupid response, and then there’s the “oh God, it’s happening, I’m going to have all of her physical hardships.” And like she retained some level of mobility so that’s good but. She had a hospital stay where she was having severe muscle spasms for weeks, since then she’s had trouble with that that made her unable to move and just stayed in bed, I cared for her several times when she was like this when I was younger.

(I don’t have hospital stay money! I don’t have anyone to take care of me! I got a fuckign loft bed because I was so confident in my ability to climb things and I like the cozy nook it makes under it! My whole job is lifting heavy things and I don’t even get healthcare! And I know from my mom’s absolute pittance of disability payments that disability in this country doesn’t do fuck all even if you can get it! Which again! Requires doctor visits!)

(and ABOUT JOBS! She thinks her back got as bad as it did because she worked in a kitchen and was very active constantly carrying heavy things and bending over etc. JUST LIKE I’M DOING BUT I MAKE LESS MONEY)

Honestly I should have learned some things from watching her though. Don’t push yourself past your limits and start yelling at people and then end up laid up for weeks recovering. Eating paleo and drinking (sometimes living mostly on) green smoothies for years will not cure all ills or even affect your weight that much.

But yeah it’s the worry that I’m going to end up as badly off as she was, and it’s real scary, but like. I don’t know how to express exactly how I feel about it. It’s not a shocking concept I’ve helped her deal with her own disability my whole life. But I always hoped that wouldn’t happen to me, not to that extent, but that’s not a choice I get to make.

and then of course there’s the fact that... I got through the day fine, I wasn’t even in very much pain, I’m still walking around normally and I can tell that at least most of this is supremely paranoid overreaction and some part of me is also embarrassed about that. I’m ok at the moment. But I mean, I can’t know the future, and there’s no way to guarantee continuing to have good or decent or any health. It’s just a fact of life I guess. So I’m like “Oh god how much time do I have, what do I do if I can’t work, aaaaAAA” and meanwhile I’m just. going through my life normally and I’m quite sure actually that this is just another “slept on my back weird and it was just a bit fucked for a couple days then normal again” thing. (But What If It Isn’t)

Anyways, fortunately had the day off today, had to be active but didn’t lift anything heavy. Back hurt last night and this morning and is very faintly aching still. I’m hoping another sleep fixes it. Because I have to work again tomorrow. Idk what else to do. Trying to do some core exercises (when I’m feeling ok to begin with) and hoping that, I don’t know, Does Something. I should do some more jogging when I have time. Maybe That Will Do Something. On some level it feels about like mom’s massive buckets of supplements she hoped would cure her, there’s just not that much control you have over your health. That’s the real scary part I think. It’s not the pain, the pain hasn’t been the bad, it’s the possibility of not being able to move around.

#personal #vent'#idk what to do with thsi. post. sure. why not #you see my old man thirstposting you can see me having an existential crisis over brief minor back twinge

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venicebixch · 2 years

Text

Complicated

shorter smut. angst, mentions of cheating, heartache. slowed version of Thank You by Dido vibes. enjoy!

If you had told her in high school that one day she’d be cheating on the guy she claimed to love, she would have laughed in your face and told you you’re lying. Afterall, he’s the guy she’s been with since forever. It’s who she’s built her life with. He was her first kiss, her first time, her first experience with love for god sakes. Her high school sweetheart. No way she could cheat on him.

But somehow, as the years have gone on, their relationship has gotten rockier and while she does love him, there are some things he just doesn’t fulfill for her. He doesn’t light that fire in her heart that she always figured she'd have with the man she fell in love with. It’s a fire she’s been waiting years to feel but it just hasn’t come. And, if she’s honest with herself, he can be quite mean sometimes, and only seems to be getting meaner as time passes.

With these frustrations, she needed someone to vent to, someone who understood where she was coming from and how to comfort her. Then she finally met Vinnie and she never meant for it to happen like this but he checked all the boxes and always knew just what to say, and even though it all started off so innocently one thing led to the next and before she knew it this is something she’s come to rely on. He’s someone she’s come to rely on.

Now, at least once a week finds herself here, in the passenger seat of his car with the soft rumble of the engine behind them as they drive to the spot overlooking the city - the place where she can forget about her problems for a little bit, while shamelessly finding comfort in the man who isn’t her man.

Vinnie certainly never saw himself in this situation, either. He never imagined he’d be involved with someone in a relationship. He’s been on the side her boyfriend is currently on, and though it was some time ago, the memory of the pain is still fresh and isn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy.

But, the sight in front of him is one he’s seen a hundred times before - the line between her eyebrows and the soft pout on her lips, both features stowed on either end of her tear soaked cheeks. It tugs on his heart, drawing him into her, making him weak and he just can’t help himself.

The feelings they deal with are complicated to say the least. They both know it's wrong, of course it is. Yet it feels so right when it’s just the two of them here, alone. No judgment from each other, no commitments. Just a blissful connection between two human souls; not as devoted lovers, but as friends who just so happen to share with each other their own sacred flesh. Surely emotions as raw and consuming as these can’t be wrong.

She wipes her tears from her face, keeping her eyes down to her lap. Now that her weekly therapy session with Vinnie is over, she feels like she can finally breathe a sigh of relief, like a weight has been lifted from her chest. He places his hand on the nape of her neck and draws her closer to him, laying a gentle kiss to her temple.

“S’gonna be okay,” he says softly.

She nods in response and turns to him, not wasting another second to close the gap between them. Her soft lips are tainted with a salty taste of her tears, but he doesn’t mind. He’s just happy to taste her.

He parts his lips slowly, letting her tongue glide across his. The feeling of her kiss is comparable to heaven - some indescribable combination of elation, exhilaration, and euphoria, and, if there is a god, she’s the surest proof that he exists in his eyes.

After a few moments he gathers every bit of strength he can muster to pull away from her before climbing into the back of his car. She follows after, carefully straddling his lap and wrapping her fingers up in his hair, grinding lightly against his hard-on pressed against her throbbing core.

His hands explore her waistline before sliding under her shirt to lift it up and over her head, leaving her there in front of him - her bare chest exposed and looking like the single greatest piece of art to ever exist on this hellscape planet. He doesn’t spare a second to latch his mouth to her breasts, sucking gently on each of her nipples. The soft hum of her voice ensures he’s doing it right.

It doesn’t take long before her impatient fingers cling tightly to his shirt collar, eager to get it off of him and eager to feel his body on hers.

“Take this off,” she says softly, urging him to remove it.

He pulls his mouth from her and nods, doing exactly as she asks him. His pants go next, followed by hers. She positions herself on her knees to guide him into her. No condom, as usual - even more shameful, she knows, but she’ll be damned the day she wears one with him. As she sinks on to him one inch at a time, she can’t help but smile a little.

Fucking bliss.

Completely full now, she rocks gently back and forth. She’d stay just like this forever if she could, but she can’t, so she presses her chest against his to savor the protecting warmth that radiates from his body.

His lips meet the sweetest spot on her neck and she melts instantly, feeling like she’s become one with him. The physical and emotional aching she feels constantly is only ever soothed in these moments with him.

As the minutes pass, their breathing and movements get more feral, more erratic, more desperate for the release they search for and it’s not long before they finally find it. The rhythmic pulsing of her wrapped tightly around him, and the warmth of his release filling her up sends them both to cloud nine.

Moans and whines echo around the tiny space in the car and the windows become foggy as the heat from their working bodies collide with the cool evening Los Angeles air.

Slowly, they start to come down and he holds her waist tightly, keeping her head against his chest. He always takes a mental picture of these moments, keeping them stored away in a venerated place in his memory to revisit again and again, until the next time they meet. Always hoping and praying that one day, he won’t have to live in his memories anymore.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie #vincent hacker #vinniehacker #vincenthacker #vinnie fanfic #vinniehackerfanfic #vhackerr #vinnie x reader #vinniehackerimagines #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinniehackersmut #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader

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touyasdoll · 3 years

Text

Dumb Luck

From anon: Hi, I've had a shitty few days with terrible luck and I hoping a request for you could make things better. Just a simple Shoto x reader story where the reader regards Shoto as her/their lucky charm, because he makes them feel less cursed and actually valuable. (I'm really venting here, but I hope this gets your inspiration flowing, it doesn't have to be very long.)

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: I’m so sorry that it took so long to get to, but I hope you enjoy and I hope things are going well for you, anon 🖤

———————————

“All right, class, we have a new student. I trust that you will all make her feel welcome.”

Your new home room teacher was addressing the entirety of Class 1A, but he kept his intimidating gaze squarely fixed on a shorter looking boy with purple balls atop his head, who was clearly squirming under Aizawa’s stare.

Making a mental note to avoid whoever that boy was, you scanned the room to peer out at the faces of your new classmates. They all looked nice, save for one blonde boy who’s face seemed to be permanently transfixed in a scowl.

Maybe you should avoid him too? And that’s when you saw the most handsome face you had ever laid eyes on for the very first time. His hair was two-toned, red and white. His eyes were also heterochromatic and one was framed with a large scar, but both seemed to gleam as he offered a gentle smile toward you.

“Go ahead and introduce yourself and then feel free to take your seat at the back of the class next to Todoroki."

That’s when you noticed the empty seat next to him. You cleared your throat, trying to fight off the blush that was creeping across your cheeks.

"Hi, my name is Y/n. I'm looking forward to getting to know you all."

You smiled as you took in some more of your new classmates faces, feeling reassured by the bright smile on the face of a green haired boy who just might have been an actual cinnamon roll in disguise.

"What's your quirk?"

Your attention was called to a girl with horns and pink skin, who also offered a reaffirming smile in your direction.

"Oh, uhm, I have a telekinesis quirk."

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you shifted on your feet as you were about to take a step toward your assigned seat when another male student with bright red hair called out.

"What? That's so manly! I mean--not that you're--that's not what i meant, you're really pretty actually I--," he scratched at the back of his neck, his face flushing the same shade as his crimson hair. "I mean can we see your quirk? If that's okay with you?"

Aizawa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a seat at his desk, shaking his head at the awkward exchange that he would rather just not acknowledge.

You laughed it off and blushed in response to the red head's compliment.

"Uh, yeah, if that's okay?"

Looking over at your teacher, he exhaled and nodded, his stoic expression returning to his persistently tired features.

"Oh, and uh pick a number between 1 and 10,000"

Setting your bag down, you nodded toward the boy and watched him bare his sharp teeth as he momentarily paused to think and then nodded in response to your request.

"Okay, I got it."

Maintaining eye contact with him, you focused on his thoughts while activating your quirk to lift his backpack off of his seat, guiding it toward the front of the room with your hands, before returning it to it's rightful place.

"Whoa! That's so cool!"

He grinned in awe as he watched his backpack settle behind him once again.

"Y/n?" The green haired boy had his hand up, looking perplexed, but also so polite as he waited for your attention. "Why did you have him pick a number?"

You smiled as you physically picked up your bag, slinging it back over your shoulder.

"Oh, because there's kinda two parts to my quirk, but actually, could you pick a number? I don't know if I wanna repeat the one he picked."

You watched the red head blush as he shrunk back in his desk, before glancing back at Todoroki, who eyes were still intent on your frame.

"You can tell Todoroki for confirmation, so you know I'm not faking."

He perked up a bit at the sound of you saying his name, the corners of his lips turning up in a shy smile before he leaned over, so that the boy could whisper his number in his ear.

"Got it?"

You smiled at Todoroki, his small smile making your stomach do flips before you found the will to look away from him and back and the other boy.

After a moment of concentration, you announced your guess.

"4,389. Right?"

His green eyes went wide and an excited smile broke across his freckled cheeks.

"Whoa, are you psychic? Telekinesis AND telepathy? That's so awesome! Oh my gosh, can I ask you some questions after class, so I can write some not--

You nodded, blushing a bit at his enthusiasm. You've always enjoyed your quirk, but no one had ever reacted quite as energetically to it and the rest of the class seemed almost as amazed as him.

"Wait, what was Kirishima's number?"

The perpetually angry looking blonde boy's face twisted in curiosity as you moved to take your seat.

"It was uh, six thousand, nine hundred sixty-nine. Right?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper as your quickly scurried toward your desk, not missing the deep shade of red Kirishima had turned before the blonde boy smacked his arm with the back of his hand.

"Is there some significance to that number?"

Todoroki's gaze followed you as you took your seat beside him, ignoring the laughter that had erupted throughout the classroom, much to Aizawa's chagrin.

"Oh, uh, yeah it's uh--I don't quite know how to explain it though. Uhm," fidgeting in your seat, you slung your bag over your chair before turning somewhat sideways, angling yourself in your seat to face him, keeping your voice low. "Do you not know why the number 69 is significant?"

His expression seemed to only grow more puzzled as he cocked his head further to one side.

"No. I can understand why 6,969 would be significant, seeing as it's 69 repeated, but I don't see why that number i--"

A boy with yellow hair, striped in the front with a bit of black leaned over, interrupting Todoroki's query.

Suddenly, his eyes grew a bit wider and he nodded slightly, the faintest hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Oh, I see. Okay. I can see why that would be funny.”

His smile was small and somewhat reserved, but it was adorable and the sight of it made you giggle.

"Yeah, that's why I didn't wanna go with his number. Didn't want anyone to think that I was a perv or playing a gross joke or something. I'm not trying to start off on the wrong foot here."

He cocked his head slightly to the side again, turning somewhat in his desk the way you had to better face you.

"Well, I think you have made a good first impression. I like you."

Your cheeks may as well have gone up in flames, you could tell they were beet red.

"Oh, uhm, thank you, Todoroki."

Clearing your throat again, you hoped the excess color would drain from your cheeks in the time you took to stare at the floor beneath your desk.

"You can call me Shoto."

His hand awkwardly extended toward you after a brief pause, flashing in front of the view you had of your feet beneath your desk.

You reached out and shook it carefully, feeling an icy coolness in your palms that you were grateful for as you felt your hands clam up.

"It's really nice to meet you, Shoto. You're uhm, you're so much nicer than anyone I ever interacted with at my last school, so uh, thank you for that."

His brow furrowed in confusion as you both retracted your hands.

"What do you mean? They weren't nice to you? Why?"

You shrugged shifting your weight to rest your elbow on the desk, accidentally knocking your unprotected cell phone straight off the desk, which mercifully landed on top of Shoto's bag, which had fallen to the floor, no doubt saving your phone from what would have been a thoroughly cracked screen.

"Oh--! Oh, wow, I thought that was going to end up broken for sure. That would have been my just my luck."

"Maybe your luck is changing. I hope your experience here at UA is different than it was at your previous school. I'll do my best to make your time here more positive."

His smile was somewhat sheepish, but genuine and for the first time in a long time, you felt comfortable around your peers. Maybe transferring schools was a good idea after all.

//Two Weeks Later//

"Dang it!" You huffed as your hurriedly threw your books into your backpack, scrambling to get up from the desk in the library.

Shoto calmly looked up at you in your frenzied state and stood, beginning to pack up his things as well.

"Where are we going?"

Throwing your bag over your shoulders, you nabbed the last of your books off the desk and made a move to start toward the door, but stopped when you realized Shoto was getting up to follow you.

"I completely lost track of time. I have to catch the last bus to go and pick something up downtown and I think I'm about to miss it."

He nodded and stepped toward you, following you out the library doors.

"Sometimes the buses run a little late. Maybe if you're lucky, it won't have come yet."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his suggestion.

"Yeah, sure. Look, I will give you fair warning now; I'm one of the unluckiest people in the planet. The odds are super slim of even something small going wrong? My luck dictates that absolutely EVERYTHING will go wrong. At this point, I'm nearly convinced that a witch cursed me as a baby or something."

He shrugged, coming to a halt at the curb as a bus slowly began to pull up.

"I told you."

Your mouth gaped slightly as you shook your head.

"Okay, wow, well I'm glad you were right about the buses running late."

"I meant about what I said about your luck changing. I hope you've been having a better time here than at your last school. You deserve to, Y/n."

He stepped back and gestured for you to enter the bus ahead of him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, uhm, I--uh, I hope so."

You climbed up the steps and nearly tripped up the small flight of stairs, but his strong hands steadied your hips from behind before anyone could notice your falter, keeping you from making a fool out of yourself in front of a nearly packed bus.

"Thank you, Shoto."

You scurried toward the first set of open seats that you could find, letting your hair dangle in your face to try and conceal the heat on your face.

"Sorry, I, uh--," Shoto took a seat beside you, actively trying not to let his muscular thigh brush against yours, which was virtually impossible on a crowded bus, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with the way I touched you, I--I just didn't--didn't want you to fall or anything."

Feeling a bit more brave in sensing how nervous he was over the interaction, you relaxed and let the arm and leg that were already pressed up against him in the tight quarters press against him a little more intentionally.

"It's okay, I appreciate you not letting me make an absolute fool of myself. Seems like you're always around to help me in that regard."

Giggling, you began searching for the nerve to look up and make eye contact with him.

Hearing him mumble something, you decided to dig deep and look up at him with a curious smile.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

His left side was giving off more heat than usual as you noticed he was blushing too, scratching the back of his neck nervously with his right hand.

"Dumb luck, I guess. That I'm always around when you need it. I'm glad I can be, I hope I can, uh, continue to be. If you, i-if you would let me be around you more often lik--"

He was rambling, clearly nervous, and it was an adorable sight to see. Further emboldened by his demeanor, you shifted your weight to lean against him, brushing the back of his hand with yours.

"Are you trying to ask me out, Shoto?"

His expression went blank as he nodded, save for the adorable flush on his cheeks.

"I am. Did I do it right? Or---wait, did you read my mind?"

You shook your head as your giggled, knitting your fingers together with his.

"No, I didn't need to."

He smiled, shifting his weight to lean against you as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"How did you know then?"

You shrugged playfully before resting your head against his shoulder.

"Dumb luck."

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keysmashingfantasies · 3 years

Note

i'm depressed and dying :) will you write me something sweet? you can choose who!! i just need something really comforting right now, thanks ily 💖

of course! i hope this cheers u up. and if you need to talk, i’m always here. love u bestie 💝💌💟💗💓 ps: i couldn’t decide so i did bucky, sam and loki, i hope it’s okay :D

BUCKY

he doesn’t like to see you sad

you hide it from him at first. you don’t want to worry him, bucky has a lot on his plate already. and he’s doing so good on therapy too. you would feel so guilty to ruin it. so you keep it to yourself.

but bucky knows you like the palm of his hand. “sometimes i feel like i understand this pretty head of yours more than i understand my own, doll”, he would say sometimes

after some time of you not opening up he would lowkey think it’s because you came to your senses and decided to leave him but when he sees your teary eyes one night he quickly pushes these insecurities down. “come on, this is not about you. if she leaves then try to at least cheer her up before”

so one day you arrive to his apartment and is greeted by candles, a dinner table where usually there would be nothing but a chair and a tv. and bucky dressed sharply. instead of his usual clothes, he would be wearing a suit. you wondered if the girls from back in the day felt these butterflies on the regular seeing him like this.

“hi, doll” “bucky, what’s this?” “well, i... please sit down”

you sit, and after a glass of wine and forced small talk, you began to talk. you were dying to know what this was all about and bucky wanted to use up every second he had left with you

“i know there’s something wrong”, he said. uh oh. busted.

“bucky, i-” “and i’ve been crushed to see you like this but i understand, honestly”. your heart ached at just how sweet he is.

“and this is by no means a way to try and change your mind. i just wanted to show you how much i love you one last time and-” “wait, WHAT? bucky, what are you talking about?”

“you’re leaving. because of me, that’s why you’re sad, right?” “of course not, bucky. you make me the happiest i’ve ever been. i didn’t want to stress you out- it’s just... i’m overwhelmed, that’s all. and... honestly, i’ve been bottling all up and just...”, you sighed heavily, hiding your face in your hands.

he gently pried your hands off your eyes, and greeted you with a smile so bright you couldn’t help but give him a smile back. “doll, i love you so much. but you don’t have to make it easy on me, okay? i want to be here for you, so why don’t you vent with me while we eat and then i can make you forget about it by kissing every square inch of your skin?” “sounds perfect

SAM

you needed sam. you had THE worst day since ever and you needed sam so bad.

you talked to him throughout the week while he was away, and it helped a bit. but it seemed like everything just built up inside of you and now you just wanted to curl into a ball and cry. and you wanted sam to hold you so bad. but he wouldn’t be back. not for another week.

you did everything you could to cheer yourself up. you wanted to feel fine and were tired of feeling miserable. “what would sam tell me to do?”, you thought to yourself.

so you decided to take off your makeup. but before you reached for the wipes, first you brushed away your mascara stained tear tracks with your hands. gently, like he would. if you close your eyes, it’s like he was there. “shhh... i got you, baby girl... now give me a smile”, he would coo. but he wasn’t there. so you settled for wiping away your makeup and hopping to a hot shower.

you then dug through his closet, searching for a shirt that smelled like him and instead of your sleeping short, you wore one of his briefs. you closed your eyes again. “what? at this rate i’ll have no more clothes left?”, he teased. he tried to sound angry but couldn’t help but smile seeing you wear his shirt. “but they’re so comfy. and they smell like you”, you said, going to hold him. “yeah, yeah, okay... how would you feel if you saw me wearing your clothes?”, he said, his hands going to tickle your sides. “i think you’ll look lovely”, you teased with a giggle that made his smile widen. “then imma start rocking those party dresses”, he said, making you throw back your head in laughter, giving him space to cover your neck in kisses. “now come, lil’ Sam, let’s order something”. you smiled at the memory and went to the phone.

“i’m gonna order enough for an army. i deserve it tonight”, you said as you waited for someone to pick up. after not long, you were reciting your and sam’s order by heart to the person on the other side of the line.

“good to see you’re getting the party started for me”, a voice said as soon as you hung up the phone. you stopped for a moment, not sure if this was just another memory you were conjuring. no. no, it’s real. the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat, the sparkle in his eyes, the way you could feel his voice rumble in your chest, even from afar.

“SAM!”, you yelled as you ran to hold him. “hi, baby”, he whispered, laying kisses on your hair. “i missed you so much, i needed you so much”, you said, holding him just a bit tighter, while some tears escaped your closed eyes. “yeah, baby. i know. i missed you too”, he said, lifting you off the ground; you promptly wrapped your legs around his waist.

“i thought you were out on a mission”, you said, going to hold his face in your hands. “i had to take care of those guys extra quick. how am i a good hero if i don’t rescue my girl from a bad week?”, he said, making you smile.

“i love you so much”, you said. “i love you too, baby. now let’s go, lil Sam. we don’t have much time before the food is here” “where are we going?” “bedroom. duh”, he said as he carried you.

LOKI

“who did this to you?”, he would ask immediatly upon seeing you holding back tears. “no one, it’s... i...”, he rushed to your side, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “you’re in your head again, aren’t you, love?”, he whispered so gently one might think he was sharing a secret, his lips against your temple. you just nodded while he pulled you closer.

“come, love”, he said, pulling you by the hand to your room. you wanted nothing more than him and the silk sheets, before the weight of reality came crashing down on you. you had obligations, deadlines... “loki, wait. i need to-” “you need to rest, my love”, he said, giving your lips a chaste kiss. “but i have so much to do”, you complaint sounded more like a whine, and loki gave a slight smile at the pout on your lips. “it’s all taken care of, my queen” “loki, you can’t keep using your powers so recklessly! only when necessary, remember?” “nothing is more necessary to me than to ease your mind, make you smile, bring you peace... now come”

he undressed you slowly, pulliing the elastic out of your hair and letting his hands massage your scalp and thread through your locks. you hummed, the tension on your shoulders easing immediatly.

loki helped you to lay down, easing you gently to the silk sheets that he insisted on buying to your bed. then he undressed himself, eyes locked on yours. however, there was no lust. just adoration, love. his eyes sparkled for you, like you were his entire world.

“i am baring myself for you. you are the only one from who i keep no secrets”, he said, while going to lay by your side, his hand carressing your face briefly before returning to your hair. “i am a god and you are nothing short of a goddess. i am but a servant kneeled at you altar, begging to be at your mercy, to serve you. will you lay with me for a moment, my love? rest you mind, let me adore you?”, he whispered against your lips

you spent the rest of the day and the night on the bed, whispering sweet love confessions, making love and sleeping next to your king.

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson headcanon #sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes #loki x reader #mcu loki x reader #loki #loki headcanons #fluff

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sokkas-honour · 3 years

Note

hello ! i heard requests are open ? i would love it if you could do married life headcanons for keith kogane ! (have a good day/night love !)

i got u!!

married life - keith x reader

pairing: keith x reader (gn)

notes/warnings: hopefully i wrote enough :)

i feel like keith planned out the proposal but not in detail, he’d just choose the place but maybe not the exact time, more so waiting for the perfect moment where it was just the two of you.

turns out, he found the perfect moment before the day he was planning to propose, deciding to just ask while the two of you were just watching the sun set on earth since he was taking a break from the blade of marmora.

when you said yes he low-key felt like crying, happy that he’s getting to spend the rest of his life with someone who never ceases to make him feel loved.

now, onto the actual married life which i’m doing in canon.

so, we all know that keith ends up being a humanitarian in space, meaning he’s constantly travelling around different galaxies.

and he gets the pleasure of exploring planets with you, having offered you the possibility to tag along with him as they helped alien planets post galra which you gladly accepted. (seeing keith doing something he loves and is invested in is just so cute)

that means that during the day, you two are on your feet, helping the citizens of the planet you were currently on. not being able to really see each other until you both took a lunch break together, sometimes it’s with others, sometimes it’s just the two of you.

keith maybe stops what he’s doing to watch you interact with the people you were helping or talking with, just completely enamoured with you. seriously, he can’t believe he got so lucky and ended up with the most amazing person in any galaxy.

when the day of work is finished, you’re usually the first to reach your shared room while keith usually has to deal with one or two extra things seeing as he is the leader of the blade of marmora. (though sometimes he wants you around for help with things during those more diplomatic meetings)

so you wait for him on your shared bed, most likely petting kosmo whos happy to see one of his owners finally giving him attention after a couple of hours of them being occupied.

when keith finally comes back to you, he always has a stupid smile on his face as soon as his eyes meet yours. on days that were a bit tougher/more exhausting, he just flops onto the bed, happy to have finally ended the day.

kosmo always cuddles keith neck, maybe even licking him slightly which always makes keith shoo his face away.

you on the other hand, just run your hand through his hair in a calming way, just make him feel even more relaxed than minutes ago when he was outside your room.

whenever he’s stressed, just your presence, a smile, or even just eye contact seems to lift a huge weight off his chest and makes him feel infinitely better.

idk how many times i have to say this but forehead kisses !!!!!

keith often turns to you for advice or just someone to talk to, him usually being the person to listen but with all the extra stress of wanting to help every planet affected by the galra he’s got even more on his mind.

so very often, he’ll be laying down, head on your lap as you just play with his hair as he talks. kosmo usually crashes the cute moment by either licking keith’s face or just flat out placing his paw on him, wanting to get your attention.

krolia definitely tells you about keith’s galra heritage, since she doesn’t actually have any embarrassing childhood memories for him. she also once walked during a moment where keith was venting to you and it just warmed her heart, seeing her son actually talk about his feelings with someone instead of bottling them up forever.

people i tag for voltron: @biqherosix @alteasmoon

#voltron x reader #keith kogane x reader #voltron #keith x reader #keith #keith kogane #krolia #krolia x reader #red paladin #paladin x reader #keith vltrn

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obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts · 3 years

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could do something about the brothers comforting Mc. Your one of my favorite writers and I've been having some relationship trouble and could use some fluffy demon boys . If you don't want to I understand, don't feel obligated to do this! anyway I hope you have a nice day!

Aw! I know what that feels like babe. Usually I pick things from the bottom of my pile to write (unless I'm struck with like, lighting quick inspiration lmao), but I saw you said you were struggling and felt I had to make some sort of attempt. Sometimes real people just suck, and sometimes real relationships do too, but don't let it ever hold you back from finding happiness. I almost did. I'm thankful I didn't. Good luck darling!

On another note, I need to find someone to explain how to get this damn stardew valley mod! Time to find some ancient youtube video lmao

Also! WARNING:mentions of panic attacks!

Lucifer

Lucifer is pretty decent when it comes to comfort.

Not really in such an emotional sense. Yes, he does express his care for you, and he'll always insist that whatever issue you're dealing with is so minuscule compaired to your being, but truthfully he's very good with the facts.

He lays it all out fairly plainly. You'll get the questions like "Why is this bothering you?", "What can you do to fix it?", "If you can't change anything, why are you so adamant on punishing yourself for not trying?", ext.

He'll even ask you what the benefits are of fixing the issue/relationship, if it's even worth it, and help you sort out whatever muddled emotions you might be feeling.

You might still feel sad, but that's okay. Feeling sad is apart of change, and with Lucifer by your side, change will happen in the most productive way possible.

Mammon

He doesn't really know why you came to him first.

He's not exactly known for his problem-solving skills and tender hand.

Which is pretty solid assumption, proven by the way he automatically rises to go beat up who/what is bothering you.

Mammon looks so enraged it's almost goofy.

You'll have to stop him from causing chaos.(*cough* raising hell *cough*)

Amongst all his anger and your giggled pleas for him to calm down and just hold you, you forget what you're upset over.

It's not a permanent fix. You'll still feel all the hurt again, but in that moment it's an escape.

Sometimes taking a break from the pain isn't that bad, especially when you're accompanied by a white-haired demon content on overwriting that memory with cheesy action films.

Leviathan

This is not really a scenario he ever thought he'd find himself in.

Like, sure, you complain to him about school, and his brothers, but you're never crying or red in the face.

He's kinda at a loss for words.

So he acts on instinct, cutting you off by wrapping you in his arms

(He saw this is an anime once, he thinks?)

It's tight and restrictive and just enough to keep you from running over the line leading to a panic attack.

You'll stay like that for a while, up until you start laughing at his awkward conversation tactics or the blush on his face.

He makes you promise never to go through these things alone, because no one should have to.

Satan

Satan is an armchair psychologist.

Sometimes it does wonders. The coping methods he repeats are good for problems that would normally ruin your day.

But in situations where all you can do is lay on your bed and feet over the smallest of things, it's a little too late. All you want him to do is hold you.

He isn't really for it at first, making attempts to get you to try all the things your normally do, but eventually he caves.

Then Satan realizes, sometimes all you need to do is just vent. To get out all your grievances. You don't need advice, you don't need opinions, you just need to state your feelings.

He's okay with that.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus is the queen of unhealthy coping skills.

He takes you out drinking, and by the time you two come stumbling home, you're both in tears over something with no real answers or comfort.

The whole night you'll just cling onto each other in a drunken stupor

It doesn't do much to help.

But it does do a bit.

You'll now have the memory of staying up late, clinging to Asmo as both of you sob to each other like some movie aimed at highschool girls.

Being stupid and reckless feels fun, but it doesn't really help.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a good listener and gives advice like a wise old man.

He's honest, and tells you what you need to know in the most delicate and basic way possible.

Will cuddle you until you feel better.

Might make you a snack or a hot drink to calm your nerves. It just depends on how you're feeling

Rubs your back in a calm, soothing way. After a long rant it will always make you sleepy.

He'll probably encourage you to take a hot bath and change into pajamas before you go to bed before you fall asleep. Beel says it will make you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

It does help, and you always sleep well with Beelzebub.

Belphegor

Belphie helps you in the only way he knows how; trash talk.

(Or sleep, but it's hard to sleep when you're so upset)

He'll encourage you to let out your frustrations with little comments worded just right, always aimed at making you feel justified.

Tbh he might just make you feel more riled up, but at leas you aren't sad.

At least you'll be able to sleep it all off in the arms of someone you know loves and cares for you!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me mammon

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rose7420 · 3 years

Text

Use Your Words

A request from @lokiismyhubby

Summary: Loki feels down and Y/N decides she wants to help him out

Warnings: Selectively Mute reader

Y/N sat with Peter Parker, listening to him as he rambled on about his homework and complained about how much he had to do of it, instead of just doing it. Even though Peter could be kind of annoying sometimes Y/N loved to be near him. He was the only human so far that had proved to be worthy of her trust. He was a gentle giant and showed her tenderness and care when he provided her company. He even went out of his way to gather her food and certain supplies to help her out, erasing the risk of her being caught by another human.

Y/N knew Peter didn’t have to do all of these things but he still chose to and that made y/n feel good because she knew someone out there cared for her wellbeing. Out of impulse, she stepped up to Peter’s wrist that held a pencil and hugged it.

“Woah there… You good pipsqueak?” Peter said, raising an eyebrow in curiousness. Y/N nodded her head wordlessly. She didn’t like to speak much.

She had lost her parents at a young age and her kind called borrowers lived in small, distanced packs, making it hard to find people to share a life with. After she had lost everyone close to her there had been no reason to speak and communicate with others. Peter was the first person she had talked to in five years. When she first spoke to him her voice had been rough and she didn’t want to admit she had lost the confidence to actually speak. All of her memory of language had practically withered away in her head, making it hard to remember how to pronounce some words. Peter had only questioned once why she didn’t speak to him. He was worried she was frightened of him but she assured him that wasn’t the problem with an exaggeration of her hands and a written note. Peter hadn’t questioned her after that and only spoke to her with no expectations of her responding.

She released his wrist and smiled brightly up towards him.

“I’m glad you’re feeling good today. But I think something has made Loki feel bad these last weeks. Would you know why?” Peter asks, resting his head upon his hand to see her better. Y/n shakes her head.

“Well if you have any free time, you mind using those amazing spy skills for me? I’m worried about him, he won’t talk to me?” He patted her head with a finger.

Y/n nodded, anxious to see Loki for the first time. She had never come across the god since her arrival at the tower.

Y/n sat on a shelf in Loki’s room watching his daily life. He led a rather peaceful but boring routine. Reading late at night and early in the morning, practicing his impressive magical abilities, and occasionally eating a meal. Y/n was about to stand and leave, ready to tell Peter that he was probably sad because he did nothing during the day when the door opened. In Thor walked, one of the biggest people she’d ever seen, and that was saying something.

“Brother, why don’t you just leave this room? There are plenty of things to do.” Thor said to Loki.

“Leave so I can hear you all blabber on of how wretched of a person I am? My life may be spent in solitude but perhaps I like it like that.” Loki retorted snarkily.

“If you stay in here, your chances of being liked will increase no more. “Thor said stepping towards Loki.

“So you admit it? The mortals of this tower do not want me here.” Loki said, anger lashing his voice.

“I don’t blame them, brother. You’re wasting away in this existence you call a life. Mother would be disappointed.” Thor said, his voice going soft to lessen the blow at the end.

Despite Thor’s gentility, Loki still became furious.

“Get out,” Loki said with a scary calm. Thor respected his wishes and walked out. But Y/n stayed, thinking she had just found the reason for Loki’s sadness.

As the days went by Y/n hid well and listened to the others’ Avengers conversations. Most of them as she’d thought spoke terribly of Loki. Remorse became heavy in her heart and she vowed to make Loki feel better. Since Peter had been there for her she figured it was time for her to be there for someone else.

She crept onto Peter’s desk and broke the lead off the pencil quietly. She checked to make sure he was still asleep and began writing.

Dear Mr. Loki,

I am sorry you feel so bad. I know people can be mean but I think your feelings are valid. If it was me I wouldn’t want to hear about what people think of me either. But I think you are very kind and generous. I hope this helps.

-Your friend

Y/n set out the next night to give the letter to Loki. Her handwritten letter was strapped to her back, easily accessible to her reach. The floor was mute under her imperceptible footsteps. She climbed the towering, unstable wall of Loki’s silk, black bedsheets which was a hard task as the sheets slipped from her grip a couple of times sending her heart to beat out of her chest. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she reached the top. Her breaths were heavy and she struggled to keep them quiet. Approaching Loki’s open, pale outstretched palm she retrieved the letter from behind her back. The paper was bigger than her upper half when folded together and heavy enough that she couldn’t place it upon his palm using only her arms to boost it to the surface. Which meant that she would have to climb into his hand.

Oh, how she wanted to turn around, climb down the bed and run to her safe, warm home inside the wall.

But she refused to give up when she had come so far.

And he needed someone to be there for him.

She delicately climbed into his palm, with the letter strapped to her back carefully placing her feet in non-ticklish places. One twitch of his hand would send her flying onto the covers, or worse off the bed itself. She shivered at the thought. Finding a good place to leave the letter she bends down.

Then a powerful, immense weight falls upon her sending darkness to coat her vision. She falls to her butt as vertigo hits.

“What are you doing?” A booming voice demands.

She trembles in fear, covering her head with her arms. I knew I should’ve just gone away. What will he do?

“I asked you a question?” The voice is angry. A light is turned on allowing her sight of her captor.

She dares to look up and is met with the rage of Loki Laufeyson. She shakes her head in reluctance to answer.

“What is this?” He roughly nudges her away from the note she holds in her arms causing her to fall onto her back with a squeak of fear. She holds onto the slip of paper for security but his strength overpowers hers greatly. His eyes squint in concentration as he reads the small handwriting.

“Did you write this?” He asks returning his focus upon her trembling form.

She nods hesitantly.

“Truly?”

Another nod.

“You don’t speak much do you Little Miss, do you?” He asks with a hint of a smile, his tone is much softer.

She shakes her head. Y/n clutches her arms across her chest, scooting back further from his face.

“Did I frighten you?” Loki suggests his eyes gentle voice guilty.

She nods, her eyes wide studying him for any ill intent.

“I apologize. I have a few trust issues. “

She says nothing and only stares at him with distrust.

“How did you know what the others were saying about me?” Loki asks raising her to meet his eyes. Even through her apprehension, she notices how beautiful they are. How his irises cannot seem to decide on a cool blue or a rainforest green.

She doesn’t try to answer his question, from the fear of speaking and the trepidation of angering him with her words.

“Okay, well I will wait until you’re ready to tell me. For now, I’ll let you go.” He stands up from his bed and releases her onto the hardwood floor. He stays crouched even as she slips off his long fingers. Taking a few cautious steps away from his looming form she is frankly surprised he is letting her go. She supposes that is a good sign. Maybe she will come back to him despite her previous scare.

“Don’t be a stranger.” His voice calls out almost wistfully.

Next week…

Y/n finds herself in a vent located in Loki’s room. This past week she’d felt guilty for leaving Loki in such a dreadful, sad state. So her final decision was to come back. She watched as Loki sat reading in an armchair on the other side of the room. He looked regal and imposing from far away, with his head bent down in concentration, long legs spread outward and she could only imagine how intimidating he must look up close. Her legs shook as she dropped to the floor below with no sound to alert Loki of her presence. Scurrying to his chair she stopped by his black boot. Even this simple apparel dwarfed her, able to serve as her sufficient sleeping quarters.

If you want to turn back now’s the time. She said to herself.

The enormous, unaware boot shifted closer to her and she let out a squeak, scampering back.

“It’s you again Little Miss.”

She craned her head all the way up and saw Loki staring down at her. His black hair hung down around his face. His hand reached for her and pinched her waist carefully, lifting her up to bring in front of his eyes. The pressure on her waist was gentle but still made her fearful.

She kicked her legs in search of a non-reachable floor. Loki noticed her apprehension and set her down in his other palm.

“Is that better?” He ducked his head down to meet her eye.

She nodded.

“Still not talking are we?” He asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, I suppose that’ll be fine. Would you care for me to read to you?” He asked kindly.

His offer was so kind and thoughtful. One that didn’t seem right for a simple nod in answer.

“Y-yes p-please.” She stumbled.

Loki grinned and set her upon his shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to do so high up and close to his person. Thankfully Loki caught onto this with his quick perception.

“Sit right here Little One.” He tapped right beside his neck and held still as she walked to the pointed area. Sitting down, she dared to lean a bit of her weight against his neck. She was instantly met with warmth and the gentle pounding of his pulse. When he started reading his smooth voice vibrated her minutely.

After a while, Y/n started becoming sleepy from the comfortableness of her position. Loki stopped reading.

“You know Little Miss, I think you have a lovely voice… perhaps you should use it more often.”

Y/n pondered these words in her sleepy mind.

Maybe she would heed his advice, but for now, she would sleep.

#loki #giant loki #tiny reader #borrower #selectively mute

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silkling · 3 years

Text

Falsely Accused: Revelations

Prowl leapt to the side, hissing as neglected joints protested a movement that had once been as natural to him as breathing was to an organic. His leg gave out, and he fell to one knee. Wing’s blade stopped micrometers from his throat cables. It hovered there for a beat, then the larger mech swung it around his back and sheathed it. He knelt next to the fallen mechling, frowning.

“Prowl?” he said gently.

He released a shuddering vent, then pushed himself up. Prowl had had regular fuel and recharge for the past quadricycle since he’d accepted Wing’s offer. He wasn’t better yet, and wouldn’t be in top shape until he saw a medic, but already the food and rest was helping him. He’d need a repaint desperately, but being able to use the ship’s washracks had gone a long way in making him look better, appearance wise. He’d rested for the past few orns, but then this morning he’d asked Wing if they could spar. The jet had carefully agreed. So far, he wasn’t doing so well.

“Prowl?” Wing asked again.

“I’m fine.” he said, forcing himself up. Wing followed. “Let’s keep going.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes I’m certain!”

Wing frowned at the harsh reply, and Prowl recoiled. “I’m sorry.” he said. “I just-“

“I understand.” Wing said soothingly. “I just don’t want you stressing yourself too much. There is time, Prowl. You don’t need to recover immediately.”

“You don’t even know what I’m trying to recover from.”

“No.” he agreed. “But I know it was bad, and I know it has weighed on you and hurt you. I know you need to let yourself recover naturally, or you will only hurt yourself more.”

The mechling was still, gaze directed at the ground. After a moment, he nodded. “I…understand. But I want to continue. I want to know how much I’ve lost. Please.”

Ah. So that was it, Wing realized. His spark ached in sympathy for the hurting Praxian. He wanted to figure out how far his skills had dropped since…well, Wing knew. He didn’t want to tell Prowl, but he was sure he had a decent idea.

“Alright.” he agreed. “A little bit more today, and then you need to rest and recover. We’re currently headed for an old friend of mine. He’s a Neutral medic. He’ll help you. Once you’ve been properly seen to and physically recovered more, then we can start with your training.”

Prowl looked at him, then nodded slowly. Prowl had already told him they were heading to a medic first, so that wasn’t new information, but it seemed he appreciated being told what to expect until then and after it.

“Good.” Wing smiled, keeping his EM field soothing and calm. Then he stepped back, slipping into an easy stance and deciding to forgo his blade. “Ready yourself.”

Prowl slipped into an easy stance, and Wing moved. He went in for a chest strike, but the slim mech danced away in a smooth two-step maneuver. On the second step, his weight shifted and he was sliding underneath the white jet, coming up straight and spinning in the same movement that he lashed out with a servo. Wing smoothly ducked and rolled on his heels away from the attack, then dipped low under the Praxian’s arms and came up on his right side, and lashed out with a palm aimed at the side of his helm.

He fully expected the mechling to see the strike coming and dodge. He wasn’t moving fast, and the hit wasn’t even a very hard one. It would be easy to move away from. So he was very surprised when his palm made contact, and the Praxian stumbled, legs buckling and sending him to his knees.

Wing was kneeling beside him in an instant, one servo on his shoulder to steady him and the other reaching for the newly-cracked visor. It had already been old, so he wasn’t surprised he’d damaged it by mistake. Before his fingers could touch it, Prowl was gripping his wrist, his field flaring with panic. Wing paused, and his helm tilted.

He had a feeling he knew what this was about. He strongly suspected that Prowl’s right optic was damaged. Most likely something he’d sustained during….well, Wing was fairly certain he knew when it had happened.

If he had to guess, the optic itself was likely broken, or damaged in a way that threw off Prowl’s depth perception or ability to distinguish shapes. It’d explain why he acted like he did. He had noticed how the younger cyber-ninja didn’t like anyone on his right side, and if he could he always put himself close to a wall, with the wall to his right. He never let a mech out of his left side. Wing was certain there was something wrong. He just needed to know exactly what.

“Prowl.” he soothed. “I need to see. We’re going to a medic now, and Blades will want to know how damaged your optic is if he’s going to be able to fix it.”

Prowl tensed. “It’s not damaged. I just don’t like mechs reaching for my face.”

“Oh? Is that why you never let someone on your right side?”

Prowl was silent.

“Prowl.” Wing said, voice soft. “I need to know. It needs repair, and depending on the damage level it might affect how I go about your training. I promise, I won’t hurt you. But I need to know, mechling.” he murmured.

Prowl stared, and then his grip on the jet’s wrist loosened and dropped. Wing reached forward, and carefully slid the visor off. He dropped his optics to it, setting it by Prowl’s knee, and then his gaze rose to his newest student’s face.

He froze.

Oh, Primus. It was worse than he thought.

Prowl’s right optic was black, like a dead mech’s.

Wing had seen this before, but never with optics. Sometimes,a Cybertronian was hurt severely enough, usually in one of their limbs, that the wires and circuitry and connections that linked that limb to the processor stopped transmitting or processing any energy or form of life. The limb, in those scenarios, would essentially die. The only fix was to amputate, replace all the dead wires and connections, and attach a new limb. Unfortunately, that was an operation with a very, very low success rate. It was almost like, in those cases, the connection at the processor itself was dead. Wing knew that there was no medic who could fix Prowl’s optic. No one who might be skillful enough would be willing to even try. The optics were already delicate enough to replace, but to replace the connections and circuitry between it and his processor…there was too much risk. This wasn’t the type of optic injury that could be fixed by removing the damaged one and giving him a new one.

Prowl was half-blind, and would be for the rest of his life.

“Oh, Prowl….” he breathed, his servo cupping the mechling’s face, his thumb swiping under the black, sightless optic that should have been a twin for the lovely blue one shining bright from the left side of Prowl’s face.

“Don’t.” he choked.

“Don’t what?” Wing asked.

“Don’t…” he trailed off, then started again. “I don’t want pity.” He spat the word like it was a curse.

“Prowl, no.” Wing said, aching inside for the broken mechling in front of him. “It’s not pity. It’s…” he shook his helm. “It’s grief, Prowl.” He fought to keep it from his voice. The Praxian needed his strength right now. “I’m grieving for you.”

“…why?” He didn’t seem defensive anymore, just tired. Tired and confused. It hurt Wing to know a mech so young was so wary of any form of kindness.

“Because it’s not right, Prowl.” he said gently. “An injury like that…it doesn’t happen on accident. Someone did that to you.” He squeezed his shoulder, gaze soft and sad. “You didn’t deserve this, Prowl. You deserved so much better.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“No.” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” When Prowl’s gaze dropped, Wing moved his servo from his cheek to his chin, tipping his face up. “Do you hear me, Prowl?” he asked gently. “You deserved better.”

The Praxian stared, his single working optic overbright and shining. His vents hitched, and Wing’s resolve to wait for Prowl to come to him for assurance crumbled. He tugged the mechling into his chest, guiding his helm to rest in the crook of his neck. Prowl was stiff for a moment, and then he sagged and started shaking. He didn’t make a noise, aside from the hitching of his vents, but Wing would feel the wetness gather where his face was pressed.

The ninja master sat there, holding the crying mechling who had never once been told that he hadn’t deserved his fate, and tilted his helm up. Primus was a cruel master sometimes, he thought ruefully. Their Creator had infinite kindness and love, but there were times where he simply forgot to direct his attention to those who needed it the most.

Wing shifted his gaze when he sensed a presence by the door of the ship’s small training room, finding Drift standing there. His older student stared, a knowing look in his optics, and bowed his helm before turning to leave. Drift would know what to do. After all, it had once been him in Prowl’s position, though then there had been no senior student to step in.

Eventually, the injured mechling tired himself out, his frame going limp as his exhausted, overtaxed systems forced him into recharge. Wing shifted him, one servo grabbing his visor, and then he was lifting him into his arms and standing up. He carried Prowl to his room, setting him on the berth and putting the visor on the nightstand. He carefully tugged the blankets up around his sleeping student, then headed to the door.

He paused before he left the room, casting a glance at the cracked visor. They were near a space-port. They could dock for a groon or two so Wing could send Drift to purchase a new visor. With how tired Prowl was, he likely would sleep all through the stop anyway.

Prowl shifted in his sleep, rolling to curl up on his side, and Wing smiled fondly before he left the room and let the door slide shut behind him. That could come later. Right now, Prowl needed his rest.

——————————

When Prowl woke, he was confused. It took him a moment to realize why he was in his berth, and then the memories hit. His optic onlined slowly, and he sat up. His blanket fell, pooling around his lap. Had Wing put him to berth? It certainly seemed so.

He winced when his tanks growled, a quick check to his HUD informing him he was low on fuel. He pushed the blankets off, then slid out of the berth. His gaze landed on his visor, and he reached for it. As soon as he picked it up, the crack grew, and the visor fell into two pieces. He stared, before his doorwings slumped and he set the broken visor down again. Right. Of course that would happen. Primus really did have it out for him.

Another growl from his tanks reminded him of his hunger, and he heaved a sigh before turning and leaving his room. There was a small rec room in the ship, where the energon dispenser was. He’d go there, and avoid Drift if he saw him. Wing knew about his optic now, so there was no hiding it, but he wasn’t ready for the racer to know, too.

Prowl arrived at the rec room, his optic finding Wing sitting in a corner by the view port. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the jet. He’d accepted the mech’s offer, but he couldn’t yet think of him as “Master Wing”. He had yet to address the other bot as such. He supposed a part of him wasn’t willing to believe that Wing actually cared. Another, smaller part of him still clung to Master Yoketron.

The mech in question obviously sensed him, because Prowl found himself pinned under the force of his bright amber optics. A smile stretched across his faceplates, and the white bot nodded.

“Hello, Prowl. Recharge well?”

“Yes.” he answered, walking over to where Wing was seated.

“That’s good. We made a short stop while you were out. I asked Drift to pick up something for you.”

Prowl blinked, surprised. “For me? That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is.” Wing smiled, then pulled something out of his subspace and set it in front of the Praxian.

Prowl’s vents froze. It was a visor. It was a very similar make to his old one, but it was slimmer and not as long. When he reached out to touch it, he could tell immediately that it was a much better, lighter material. More durable, too. Slowly, he lifted it, waiting to be told it was a prank and to have it snatched away. Wing did no such thing, and Prowl was soon pushing it into place over his optics. He could see through it even better than his last, and when he looked to the nearest reflexive surface he realized that the visor glowed faintly like his optic did, but it did so uniformly. It wasn’t dimmer or dark on the right side, the side that covered his dead optic. Looking at him, it’d be impossible to tell he was half-blind.

He swallowed, deciding to cautiously take this at face value. “Thank you.”

“Of course, little one. I broke yours, it was only right to replace it.” He smiled. “I also picked up a couple extras, in case that one breaks as well.”

Here, Wing pulled a small box out of his subspace and set it down. Prowl was quick to grab it and slip it into his own subspace, not wanting to take the chance of losing the spare visors to a change of mind when they were the only thing keeping the world from learning about his optic.

Wing smiled sadly, though for the life of him Prowl still didn’t understand why. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Prowl.” he said. “You know I knew Yoketron. I think it’s time I tell you the full story, if you wish to hear it.”

Prowl stiffened at the mention of his old mentor, but he didn’t say anything for a moment. All he could think about was how he wanted to learn more about the mech who had given him a home and a purpose.

“Please.” he whispered.

Wing smiled. “Yoketron and I were students together.” he explained.

Prowl froze. “You…what?”

“We were students together, at the same time and under the same master.” He explained. “This was before the war, of course. Back when the Cyber-Ninja Corps was larger. Our master commonly took on pairs of students. One the senior student, one the junior. The senior student could help their junior, if need be, and they’d train together, live together, learn together. When the senior student graduated, our master would take on a new student, and the one who was previously the junior student would become the senior while the new one would become the junior.” Wing said. “It was a common way to teach students, back then. Yoketron was the one who decided to start only taking one student at the time.”

Prowl stared, carefully turning that information over in his processor. “You…were more than just cohorts, then.”

“Yes.” Wing agreed. “Yoketron was my junior, actually. And he was our master’s last student. After he graduated and after he achieved the title of cyber-ninja master, he was given the role of Master of the Corps.” The jet’s smile turned soft and wistful. “We were Amica. I will miss him dearly.”

Prowl stared, and then his gaze dropped. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. His master had had an Amica? He almost couldn’t believe it.

“It’s not your fault, mechling.” Wing soothed, chuckling. “You are not to blame for his death.”

He was still, not knowing how to respond. For mega-cycles, he had been blamed for his Master’s death. He didn’t know how to react to someone telling him otherwise. He didn’t know if Wing meant it. He probably did, the jet was rather genuine in all the the he he did. Pits, but Prowl didn’t want to think about Yoketron. The memory still sent jagged bolts of agony through his spark.

“Your Master.” he said, grasping a topic to focus on. “What was his name?”

Wing laughed, helm tilting. “Her name, actually. Master Windblade was a femme. Cyber-ninja titles don’t differentiate between gender. Every bot of a certain rank has the same title, regardless of their frame type or whether they’re a mech or femme.”

“A femme?” Prowl asked, stunned. “There was a femme as the Master of the Corps?”

“Is that so surprising?” Wing asked, frowning.

“Femmes, ah….” Prowl trailed off. “Most are not involved in positions that would involve any degree of combat or political power. They are primarily medics, or work in similar soft fields, if they work in the Autobot forces at all. Femmes are rare, and most of them are civilians.” he said.

The jet went still, frowning. “Oh? Is that so?” he murmured.

“Yes.” he said quietly. “They are…highly discouraged from pursuing anything violent.”

Wing shook his helm. “Yet another failing of the Autobot leadership.” he sighed.

Prowl was confused. “Another?” He knew High Command weren’t perfect, in fact he knew that the structure of the Autobots on Cybertron was twisted at best, but he had a feeling Wing wasn’t talking about that.

“Yes.” he said. “Did you know, little one, that there used to be a multitude of flight-frames among the Autobot and civilian population? Before and even during the war, our species wasn’t divided into just Autobot and Decepticon. There were many who were neither. Now, those who refused to pick a side must live away from our homeworld.”

“As Neutrals.”

“Yes. And during the war, there were quite a few Autobot flyers. A rather famous one was a soldier called Whirl. A group known as the Aerialbots fought together and dominated the skies. There was even a mech named Blades, though he worked more in rescue and medicine than in active combat.”

“So what happened to them all?” Prowl asked. There were no flyers on Cybertron. In fact, before his imprisonment, during which he’d first learned of the Neutrals, and before meeting Wing, he’d assumed that all flyers were Decepticons.

“They were forced off planet with the Decepticons. Most became Neutrals. I suppose the Autobot leadership wanted to create a certain narrative, and their flyers didn’t fit into it.”

Prowl frowned, then something occurred to him. “Blades…that’s the medic we’re going to see?”

Wing smiled. “Yes. He’s a skittish mech, but he has a good spark. He just wants to do good for others.”

Prowl nodded. “You know a lot about this.” he said.

“I should.” Wing said. “Master Windblade was a jet. As am I, as you’ve noticed. After I completed my training, she asked if I wished to continue advanced training to become a paladin. I agreed, and when she completed Yoketron’s tutelage she took me off-planet for the rest of my own training. It was shortly after I’d become a paladin that Cybertron sent us a message telling us we wouldn’t be permitted to return.”

Prowl was stunned. Of course he’d always known that there were no Autobot flyers, but he hadn’t thought that meant Autobot High Command had forced the ones it did have to leave their home. But if he was being honest, he wasn’t too surprised. He remembered what his people had done to him. He knew they had an astounding capacity for cruelty.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Wing shook his helm. “It’s quite alright, Prowl. Cybertron hasn’t been home for me in a long time. I preferred exploring the stars, if I’m honest.”

Prowl hummed, then lifted his helm as something the mech had said caught his attention. “You mentioned…becoming a paladin?”

“Ah, yes.” Wing smiled. “Paladins are a part of the cyber-ninja corps. It’s a title. To earn it, a cyber-ninja who competes their full training must be willing to take on additional, advanced training.” He gestured at his back, where the hilt of his sword, a gem glinting in its pommel, sat sheathed. “I’m sure you’ve noticed my blade.”

“I have.”

“It is what is called a Great Sword, and is the final step in becoming a paladin. Master Windblade was one, too. The gems in the blades give them immense power and a small degree of…sentience, almost. When a paladin in training becomes ready for a Sword, they are taken to the Vault. It’s a location far off of Cybertron where all the Great Swords are kept. When a paladin-hopeful arrives, they must visit each blade, and if they are deemed worthy, one of the blades will choose them and bind to their very spark.”

Prowl blinked. “So your sword…”

“Is tied to my spark, yes. It’s name is Knowing Light. I can use the blade as a simple sword, without drawing on its power, but when I do use it’s full strength it forms an active link to my spark. Using the energy of my spark, it makes itself far more powerful and stronger.”

“And what’s the consequence of that?”

Wing laughed. “Shrewd, aren’t you? Yes, there is a consequence to linking and powering a Great Sword. Each time a paladin does, it drains just that much more of their life force. The blade is not to be used lightly. One can fight with it without drawing on its power, but if you wish to make it stronger you must sacrifice some of yourself to do so.” he explained.

“So…you’re a paladin.” Prowl was staring, optic wide behind his visor. “If you bind your spark to your blade, does that mean it’s bound to you and you alone?”

“Indeed.” Wing chuckled. “No other can use Knowing Light as long as I live. I am currently training Drift to become a paladin as well. One day, he will visit the Vault and see if any of the Great Swords deem him worthy.”

Prowl nodded. That…he’d never known about that. It wasn’t in any records at the Dojo. He didn’t think that knowledge existed in the Corps anymore.

“And me?” he asked. Did Wing intend to make him a paladin, too?

Wing shrugged. “Only if you wish it, little one. It’s a great deal of work, and a rather heavy burden and responsibility. If you only want the training to graduate as a cyber-ninja, I will be happy to give just that much to you. If you wish to take the path of the paladin, then I’d be most honored to guide you in that journey.”

Prowl wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Wing really meant it, he thought. He had a choice in this. The jet would teach him whatever he wanted to learn. His tanks growled, and the mech startled before laughing lightly. He stood, and before Prowl really processed anything he was back from the dispenser and setting a full cube in front of him.

“Slowly.” Wing reminded gently.

Prowl nodded, picking up the cube. “Thank you.” he murmured, lifting it for a long, slow sip. He swallowed, sighing as he felt his tanks begin to settle with the promise of fuel.

“I…have a question.” he said.

Wing hummed as he sat back down. “And I shall endeavor to answer it.”

“The medic, Blades…do you know him?”

“Quite well. Drift and I both have enough medical knowledge to treat ourselves of basic injuries, but we go to Blades whenever it’s something more serious.” he explained.

“Do you think he could….” He trailed off. How did he even ask?

“He can’t fix your optic, Prowl.” Wing whispered.

“No, no!” Prowl looked up. “I….I know. That’s not what…”

“Then what?” he asked patiently.

“Do you think he can change my frame?”

Wing froze. “Prowl.” he said carefully. “A frame reformat is not a good idea.”

“Not that, either.” Prowl shook his helm. “Just…” he trailed off, catching his reflection in the dark window beside them and wincing. “I can’t look at myself without seeing who I was before and remembering everything I have suffered.” he whispered. “I don’t want a reformat. Just…cosmetic changes. Minor ones, and a new paint job. I know it is selfish, but I do not want to look at myself and only see an echo of the past I’ve lost.”

Wing tilted his helm. “It is selfish.” he agreed. “But selfish is not bad, Prowl. Everyone needs to be selfish, sometimes. So long as you do not live your life as such, there is nothing wrong with being selfish in your personal matters.”

Prowl swallowed, throat feeling thick. He didn’t say anything.

Wing smiled. “Blades can very easily after your frame cosmetically. And a new paint job is also easy. Drift wished for the same when he became my student. I will not deny it to you.”

Prowl nodded, gaze dropping. He wondered why Drift had needed such changes. Perhaps, now that he was here, he’d have time to find out and get to know his senior.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

Wing chuckled, nodding. “Of course, little one. You deserve to feel good about yourself. I won’t deny you that chance to.”

Prowl stood abruptly, tucking his cube to his chest. Wing watched, but said nothing. This was getting too much. He appreciated everything he’d been told, all the respects and cares Wing was extending to him, but he just desperately needed some time to himself to he could process it all and assure himself it wasn’t a cruel trick. It would take time to learn to trust again, but he thought he could come to trust Wing, if things continued like this. He turned, heading for the exit of the red room with the cube in hand. At the door, he paused but didn’t look back.

“Thank you.” he said again, ignoring the tremor in his voice. “I hope you have a pleasant orn, Master Wing.”

And then he was fleeing down the hall back to his room.

Back in the recipe room, Wing was still. That had been the first time Prowl had addressed him like that. He paused, and then he was smiling even wider.

Yes, he’d made the right decision.

He could feel it.

———————————————————————————————————

And here we finally have it! The reveal of what happened to Prowl’s optics and where Wing knew Yoketron from! I wanted to incorporate the idea of the Knights into this somehow, and since Axe and Dai Atlas are canonically cyber-ninjas I thought why not make the Knights an extension of the Corps, just under a different name? I thought it fit.

I also really liked the idea of ninja lady Windblade teaching Wing and Yoketron. In my mind, Wing was a hellion and a wild feral child who liked having fun, and Yoketron was the surly, egotistical, rude little jerk. She whipped them both into shape, though!

I’d also like to apologize for the wait since my last fic, and give y’all a heads up. Updates and fic request fills will be slower coming. They’ll still happen, but for now I’ve closed requests until I can fill all the ones I have and write for my other series too. This is all cause I started my freshman year of college recently, so that’s going to be my primary focus for a while. I’ll write in the times I have to spare and post when I can, but it won’t be regular. Thank you all so much for your support, though! It really means a lot and is what makes me keep writing!

I hope you liked this fic, and if you have any thoughts be sure to let me know!

Until next time, folks!

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