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heliads · 3 years

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Patch Me Up

Thomas can’t help but set his heart on the prettiest Med-Jack in the Glade, Y/N L/N. The only problem is that Thomas is fairly sure that she’s way out of his league.

masterlist

The first time Thomas winds up in the med-jack clinic, he’s kind of embarrassed about it.

It wasn’t like he really meant to injure himself, anyway. It just so happened that he was really behind on clearing the weeds from whatever woebegotten section of the gardens the track hoes had allowed him to use, and Newt and Zart had stepped away for the time being, so Thomas got the bright idea to grab a longer blade from their casual resting place in the grass and try to lop all of the vines down before his friends saw. It was a great idea, of course, until his shins happened to be in the way.

Now Thomas is standing in the middle of his garden plot, blood leaking down into the soil, and all he can think about is the fact that he has no idea where to go from here. The vines have all been savagely cut away, which is perfect for him, but it’s too late to hide the bloodstain on the blade or the smear of red on his leg. He doesn’t really know what he expects Newt to say when he finds out, but he definitely doesn’t expect the blond boy to start laughing.

“Jeez, Greenie, you really are a klutz. First you trip while running to the Maze when you’re not even five minutes out of the Box, then you manage to stab yourself while gardening. How do you do it?” Thomas glares at his friend, who’s almost doubled over laughing now. “It’s not like it happened on purpose. Besides, I didn’t stab myself, it’s just a scratch.” Newt attempts to control himself. “Right, I’m sure about that. Not sure why you would go around slicing yourself, but I’m not about to question you. Come on, then, you’ll have to get the med-jacks to see to that.”

Thomas frowns, but follows Newt as the blond second in command starts to lead him away from the gardens and back towards the buildings of the Homestead and the center of the Glade. “The med-jacks?” Newt nods. “They’re what passes for doctors around here. They’ll fix you up with some bandages and antibiotics and you’ll be good to go, so long as you don’t stab yourself when trying to pick the tomatoes.” Newt was expecting Thomas’ attempt to hit him and dodges easily, which is unfortunate.

Eventually, Newt and Thomas enter a door into a structure that’s less a building and more just a hut. A roof is propped up on logs and twigs and whatever else the Builders could find, and Thomas can see rows of beds and tins of medical supplies lying around. It’s a mess, that’s for sure, but what isn’t in the Glade? Thomas has to hurry over to Newt, who’s already disappearing around a corner.

When Thomas catches up with Newt again, he’s surprised to see the blond boy talking to someone, a bright smile on his face. Newt, upon seeing Thomas approach, beckons for him to come over. “This is Thomas, by the way. Thomas, this is Y/N. She’s the one who patches most of us up around here.”

All of a sudden, Thomas feels like he’s been caught in the middle of a sunspot. There’s a girl in front of him now, a beautiful girl that makes Thomas wonder how on Earth he hasn’t seen her around before. He’s sure that he would remember her- even now, he’s doing his best to carefully memorize every detail of her face and hands and smile so he can cherish the memory for the days to come. She’s gorgeous, that much is certain, and she’s looking at him with so much happiness over just him that Thomas wants to grin stupidly.

However, he can’t just stand here gaping like an idiot, so he closes his mouth and manages a nod in greeting. Newt, watching with a raised eyebrow, seems to be enjoying this. “Don’t get too infatuated, Greenie. Y/N’s used to all of us and so she won’t ever go out with any of us. That’s just how it is.” Y/N laughs. “Maybe I’m just sick of the rest of you coming in here all the time to bother me.” Newt shrugs. “That too.”

They talk for a few moments, then Y/N claps her hands together, almost startling Thomas. “Right, Greenie, what’s your problem? I mean, what happened that would bring you to the med-jack hut?” Newt grins first at Thomas, then at Y/N. “I’m going to let you explain that one, greenbean. I’ll meet you back in the gardens.” With that, and a parting wave, Thomas is left alone with the closest thing to an angel he’s ever found in his life.

He doesn’t have time to sit and think about this, though. Y/N’s still regarding him expectantly, and Thomas can feel his cheeks start to heat up at the ridiculousness of his injury. Of course, the first time he meets a girl like Y/N he has to do it by the stupidest of means. Thomas gestures roughly towards his leg. “I, uh, accidentally cut myself.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “While in the gardens?” Thomas nods. “While in the gardens.”

He half expects her to laugh at him like Newt had, but instead she shrugs and reaches for a roll of bandages and some ointment. “Not the worst injury I’ve seen, or the worst story. You should have seen the things Newt used to come in here for. I think he once twisted an ankle when he was walking too close to a tree and forgot to move out of the way.” Thomas almost snorts. “He what?” Y/N looks up at him, halfway through treating his cut. There’s a laugh dancing behind her eyes that makes Thomas’ smile widen in spite of itself.

“Yeah, he tripped over a tree. We all thought it was hilarious and wouldn’t stop teasing him about it for weeks. Ask him and he’ll deny it, of course, but it happened nonetheless.” Thomas’ cheeks almost hurt from smiling this much. “Is that why he limps all the time? He hurt himself doing something like that?” All of a sudden, Y/N’s smile slips away from her. There’s a look in her eyes that tells Thomas that something happens, something bad that she can’t seem to shake. “No, not that.”

She stands up now, pressing a roll of bandages into his hands. “Here, that should hold for a while. Change your bandages before you go to bed, you don’t need me for that. It’s a shallow cut, so you’ll be fine.” Thomas wants to curse himself. Why’d he have to bring that up and make her feel so bad? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Y/N forces a smile, which is almost as bad to see as if she’d just started glaring at him. “No, it’s fine. You should probably go back to the gardens, though. I think Newt is waiting.”

Before he knows it, Thomas is standing outside the med-jack hut, staring at the door closed right in front of him. For a moment, all he can do is just stay there and think about what just happened. Thomas thought that whatever had happened to Newt was old, an injury that happened a while ago. Judging by Y/N’s reaction, though, it’s still fresh in her mind, and now he’s gone and reminded her of it. What does he do about that?

The second time Thomas finds himself in the med-jack hut, he does his best to avoid it.

It wasn’t like this injury was all that bad. Still embarrassing, still ended up with blood on his hands, but he didn’t need to go to the med-jacks, he’d be fine. That’s what Thomas tried to tell Minho, anyway, but his friend wouldn’t listen. “If you end up getting that cut infected, it’ll be a lot worse and Y/N will kill us all. Just go, you’ll be in and out in ten seconds and it’ll be fine.” Thomas tries his best to protest and come up with excuses to stay away from the flimsy hospital room, but in the end, Minho won’t take no for an answer, practically dragging him towards the hut anyway.

It’s not like Thomas has a particular aversion to getting medical treatment, it’s just that he’s afraid to see the girl there waiting for him. Ever since that day, when he’d mistakenly brought up Newt’s injury, Thomas can’t help but feel guilty. He can’t figure out quite what it was that would make Y/N’s seemingly ever-bright eyes darken like an approaching storm, but it was definitely something he’d said. He’s not sure that Y/N will really want to talk to him, as she’d more than given that impression by shooing him out of her workplace, so he’s done his best to avoid the med-jack hut.

However, he can’t exactly tell all this to Minho, so all Thomas can do is try his best to argue his friend out of a trip to the hut. Minho refuses, of course, and Thomas finds himself waiting in the med-jack hut a few minutes later, arms crossed over his chest in annoyance. He sends up a silent prayer to whoever is listening that he’ll get Clint or Jeff, but when he hears someone say his name in a surprised voice, he recognizes it as Y/N and Y/N alone.

She walks over to them, holding a thermometer from where she’d been organizing a box of supplies recently arrived from the Box. “What’s up, you guys?” Minho jerks his thumb towards Thomas with a grimace. “This shank went and cut himself on the walls of the Maze while we were out running. He tripped and caught himself, but his shoulder bit it. It was kind of funny, actually.” Y/N playfully swats Minho while she walks by. “No making fun of injuries, Minho. We’ve talked about this. I’m the only one who gets to do that.”

Now she’s standing in front of Thomas, grimacing in sympathy at the small bloodstain over his shoulder blade. “You’ll need to clean that up pretty soon. Minho, you go ahead to the Map Room. I’ll take care of Thomas.” Minho flashes her a thumbs up, already starting to jog out of the room. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Y/N grins as she watches him go, then turns back to Thomas, who’s still standing there with apprehension rising in his chest. What is he supposed to say now? Sorry I brought up what might have been a traumatic incident in your past, I didn’t know and kind of felt loopy whenever you smiled at me? Yeah, that wouldn’t really work out too well.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to think at all. She’s already conjuring up a fresh grin for him, an inquisitive expression on her face. “You know, usually whenever Greenies show up, they go through the same routine of showing up here with fake injuries just to see the one girl in the Glade, but seeing as Minho had to physically drag you here, I don’t think that’s the case. Bandages again?” Thomas manages to nod. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Y/N’s already spinning back across the room to grab the roll of bandages, but she holds up a finger in the air just in case. “That’s good, because I wasn’t asking. That’s a little check, just to make sure you aren’t out of your shucking mind.” Thomas snorts. “Who isn’t?” Y/N laughs as she starts to dress the wound. “Well, I was kind of wondering if you were. You’ve practically been avoiding me ever since we met.”

Thomas has to admit that this is true- in all of his fear to misspeak again, he’s been constantly passing up opportunities to talk to Y/N again. He doesn’t sit next to her at meals, he doesn’t cross the bonfire to say hello. Looking back at it now, it does look as if he’s been trying to distance himself, even if that couldn’t be further from how he felt. Thomas scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maybe I’m still a dumb Greenie who doesn’t know how to talk to the one girl in the Glade.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “That’s a lie and you know it. Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?” There’s a hesitancy in her question, like she’s second-guessing herself. Thomas almost rushes over himself in his haste to convince her that this isn’t her fault. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just- I know I upset you the last time we talked, and I felt bad about that. I guess I just kind of figured that you wouldn’t want to see me for a while.”

Y/N looks up at him in surprise, bandages forgotten. “What are you talking about? Thomas, that was a one time thing, I swear. It was just a hard day and a hard memory, nothing more. Shuck, you’ve been guilting yourself over this the entire time?” Thomas shrugs, a slight smile on his lips. “Well, not the whole time.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, he clarifies. “Maybe a little bit more than most of the time. Okay, a lot.”

Y/N giggles, and Thomas almost wants to make a fool of himself a few more times just to hear it. “Consider this whole thing over and done. I officially forgive you for something that I forgot about an hour after the conversation.” She grins, and Thomas grins with her. “That sounds good to me.” Y/N nods, taking a step backward to consider her work. “You know what would sound good to me? If you stopped injuring yourself all the time. I mean, I go through a roll of bandages like every hour.”

Thomas scoffs. “That’s because there are more shanks in the Glade than just me, Y/N. I’m not the only one getting hurt.” Y/N points at him to further her point. “Yeah, you’d better not. In fact, simply stop being injured. Easy as that.” He can’t help but laugh, and Y/N’s eyes sparkle triumphantly at this. “You’ve got a nice laugh, Thomas.” As with anyone else, Thomas’ laugh dries up slightly when he hears this truth, like the second he’s complimented he has to hide that very thing.

He doesn’t know what to do now, where to go from here. All he can really do is stand here and watch her smiling at him. To be honest, Thomas is fairly sure that’s all he would ever want to do. He knows it’s time for him to leave and stop bothering her, but Y/N’s looking at him like she just might give him a chance, so he decides to offer her one. “I hear they’re having a bonfire later tonight. Want to go with me?” Y/N’s grin broadens. “Absolutely.”

Just like that, Thomas’ day is made.

maze runner tag list: the a-maze-ing (haha) @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

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Powerful Ch. 3

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: This took too damn long but here we are. Definitely coming out with another part or two, but the next one is gonna start at a huge timeskip so yeah. That'll be fun.

Anywho, Enjoy~

For Reference, this is the dress I describe in here.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

For your second night with Shouta you find yourself lost in thought, staring out at the stars. The stress from before the meeting never disappeared, only delayed. Now it’s all catching up, and your brain is struggling to sort everything out.

Shouta could be on the receiving end of some very misogynistic and traditional clans’ anger very soon. You’re relieved that your future husband is nothing like them, but the backlash he could be getting just by bringing you to a meeting so soon after the announcement is frightening, not to mention some irrational clans may decide to split off and find a rival Yakuza to adopt them. Even so, that’s probably the worst of the outcomes. It’s unlikely you’ll have to worry about either of your safety, though there is still a small chance.

For the second time Shouta wraps his arms around you, surrounding you with his scent and body heat.

“I hope this won’t become a habit, little one.” He presses his cheek to the side of your head, kissing your temple gently. His presence is calming, helps your overactive brain slow down.

“I just needed space to think.” He hums, the sound reverberating through your body.

“What could you be thinking about so late at night?” You don’t really want to tell him, but you figured it’s better than keeping it all in.

“I just worry about the backlash you’ll be getting after the meeting today. This organization is a traditional one, and women have always been kept away from the violent and criminal side of it for centuries. To suddenly name an onna-oyabun, and a woman that previously held a low rank at that, you’re bound to feel some sort of repercussions.” He squeezes you gently, kisses your temple again.

“That’s what you’re worrying your pretty head about? I’ll be fine, little one. Let’s go to bed.” He’s right, you suppose. There isn’t a lot that can affect him or his position, so there isn’t a lot you need to worry about. You nod, taking your weight off of him to go back to the room. You’re a little surprised when he picks you up again, scoops you off your feet and carries you to bed. He tugs you into him just the same as the night before, and once again you fall asleep to the soft thrum of his heart.

The next morning you’re woken by Shouta again. This time you don’t immediately pull away, instead choosing to bask in his embrace a few moments longer. It feels like you’ve known Shouta for years rather than hours, having seen some of the most intimate and private parts of him, and all you want to do is dig deeper. But of course, there’s time for that later.

“Come on, little one. It’s time to wake up. We’re going to see your parents today, and then we’ve got another meeting to attend.” You hum lightly then push off of him, taking a glance at his handsome face before getting out of bed to prepare for the day. You choose a dress you hadn’t worn in a while, one that felt like it would fit today’s events, a flowing black sundress with a halter neckline. Simple black heels pair nicely with it, as well as a small black clutch purse.

You aren’t anxious about Shouta meeting your parents. They aren’t as traditional as most, ideals and views closer to Shouta’s. All parties involved gave their bows in greeting, even Shouta, and brunch went by without a hitch. It wasn’t the usual cringey romcom scene where the parents ask ‘why do you love our daughter’. In fact, they know that the marriage is strategic. Of course, Shouta had made his thoughts clear, that he intends to ensure the union is enjoyable for the both of you. His honesty made a small smile worm its way onto your face, though you managed to hide it well enough.

Soon you’re on the road again, en route to the second meeting. You aren’t too surprised that Shouta already has two scheduled meetings back-to-back after the gala, he is a busy man after all.

The venue is another restaurant, this one not quite as high-end but just as beautiful, the entire massive building shaped like a circle and a koi pond around the perimeter. A bridge is all that connects the sidewalk with the building. You and Shouta are guided through by a host, and out a back door where another bridge connects to a separate island in the extended pond, the structure enclosed with sheer beige curtains.

Again, conversation abruptly stops when you enter. You’ll have to get used to it, you suppose. You sit, and the meeting begins. The subject is mostly territory disputes, bargaining for territory extensions or swaps with the others, all of them trying to work out strategies that benefit not only themselves but other clans as well. You keep silent throughout, listening carefully and learning, taking information and analyzing it. There must be someone Shouta doesn’t like in the meeting, because when the most important details are worked through, he excuses himself to the restroom once again.

You wonder, briefly, why he’d choose to play the same trick a second time in a row. If he does it too often his plan would become transparent, though one could argue not doing it enough would be just as easy to read. You don’t know how often he excuses himself from these meetings, so you decide to leave it in his hands.

Fortunately for you, it would seem no man here is willing to speak about your presence. It’s been almost ten minutes and none of them has said a word to or about you, choosing instead to discuss territories a bit further. Though you were beginning to question why Shouta hadn’t yet returned. Surely one would get suspicious, and one did, glancing toward the main building. It was then you all shifted your attention to Shouta, who stood at the opposite end of the bridge speaking into his phone. So that’s why he’s taking so long.

And unfortunately, that meant these men were relatively safe.

“So what’s the woman doing here?” It was barely a whisper, but you could hear it even over the sounds of the pond. A glance up shows the blonde to your right had leaned over to the man next to him. He’s much younger than the man from yesterday, maybe in his mid-late twenties, his hair clearly not natural. The one he’d whispered to flicked his gaze up, catching your own, and shouldered the blonde who subsequently looked to you. He cracks a cheeky smile, a poor attempt to cover himself really.

“Ah, Onna-oyabun, it’s good to finally see the Black Dragon’s wife-to-be.” It would seem news travels fast, and the blonde is much less bold than the older man. You crack your own smile, a sickly sweet show of teeth that hid a venomous bite.

“The woman has a name. Please, do not be afraid to use it in discussion. And I will tell you exactly what I told the previous oyabun who questioned my presence. I am here because Shouta wants me to be.” His smile doesn’t falter, but his eye visibly twitches at your response. It’s almost amusing to see his composure slip. It’s less amusing when he glances back to where Shouta is still on the phone.

“With all due respect I’m not afraid, I simply do not feel the need. And my question was not directed at you, but at my associate here.” He loops an arm over the shoulder of the man he’d asked, the dark-haired man wide-eyed and nervous. You aren’t sure how to answer his quip without rising tension, but Shouta made it clear you’re to be commanding a room just as he does, so you choose to strike a nerve and stir the pot. For added effect you let your face drop into a deadpan, tilt your chin up just a hair and glare.

“Most would feel it necessary to use a person’s name or title when discussing anything regarding them, especially in their presence. Therefore I can’t help but feel you may not have any respect for me when you clearly should.” You could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring with his anger. You nearly let a smile crawl onto your face at the satisfaction of knowing you’d angered an asshole like him with only your words.

“Maybe I don’t respect you. What are you going to do about it?” The man still under his arm stiffens, a hand slapping the blonde’s chest, his eyes locked on the entrance to the room. Shouta stands there, but the blonde seems to either not notice or not care. You aren’t given time to answer his rhetorical question.

“Nothing. You can’t do a thing about it, because you hold no power over me.” He’s elbowed this time, the dark-haired man trying harder to get the blonde’s attention off of you and onto the man he should be fearing right about now. To be fair, Shouta stands almost behind the blonde, who sits to your right, so it isn’t hard to believe he doesn’t see him. You just let him dig his own grave.

“And you hold no power over me because you’re a woman. A woman out of her place and on the wrong side of business, let alone holding a rank much lower than mine.” The man beneath the blonde’s arm had given up, choosing to bow his head down and stay silent. It’s Shouta who speaks next.

“I believe it’s you who holds a much lower rank than her.” The blonde’s face goes pale, his shit-eating grin dropping faster than a sinking stone.

“In case you hadn’t heard the news yet I’ve assigned her a title, and I expect you to use it. She may have asked you to use her name, but you should address her as Onna-oyabun any time she is brought up in discussion, regardless of whether or not either of us are present.” He strides up behind you and places a hand on your bare shoulder, just like yesterday. You can’t help but feel his positioning is on purpose, physically placing you in front of him.

“Are you ready to go, little one?” You nod, rising from your seat and taking a small bow signaling your leave. Shouta lets a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you out, but you overhear the same blonde whisper under his breath. You’re definitely not meant to hear it.

“The Dragon can’t always be around to save you, brat.” You both freeze in your tracks, Shouta’s eyes wide and nostrils flaring with anger. Before he can turn to react you lean in and whisper in his ear.

“My turn.” He raises an eyebrow at you, then nods, crossing his amrs and leaning against the beam at the entrance. You pivot, pinning the blonde in place with a glare. If looks could kill, he’d be in a casket. Slowly, you begin a steady pace around the table.

“I do not rely on Shouta to help me in these situations. In fact, I could just as easily take a piece of your tongue myself.” You’re on the opposite side of the table now, still taking long, slow strides and glaring down at the man.

“But it is so glaringly obvious that you lack the same level of intelligence I hold, and therefore I would feel guilty to rob you of a muscle that you clearly haven’t learned to use properly,” you stop, standing stock still behind the blonde, “However.” In one swift movement your dagger is stuck in the wooden table directly in front of the blonde, your manicured fingers curled around the handle delicately.

“Should I hear another demeaning or degrading word out of your mouth, I will not hesitate to stain my fingers with your blood.” He doesn’t seem to be reacting at all, whether he’s afraid or not you can’t tell, but you don’t let that affect your performance. You lean in, your lips nearly grazing the shell of his ear.

“You probably wouldn’t even get to taste my blade, but I don’t mind taking my time if you want to savor the tang of steel.” You yank the blade from the wood and sheath it, straightening your posture.

“Had Shouta chosen another woman for his wife you may have been able to actually hurt her feelings with your childish words.” You turn, striding back to where Shouta holds his hand for you to take.

“Unluckily for you, I’m just as volatile as my other half. Be grateful that either of us are merciful. You get to keep your tongue. For now.” It’s cathartic, letting out your anger like that. It’s unlikely that the threat will get you any sort of respect, but fear works just as well in your favor. Respect is something hard to find and even harder earned as a woman in a man’s world, but fear works better against an enemy that dreads change. You can’t help but smirk as you walk away from the chaos you left behind, and as you glance up you see the faintest smirk worming its way onto Shouta’s face.

____

His chest swells with something akin to pride as he waltzes away from the restaurant. He was wrong to assume you were averse to violence, had taken your level-headedness and cool temperament to mean you are not a violent individual. To assume you were either incapable of violence or unable to handle the intensity was obviously a mistake on his part. Watching the blonde freeze up and pale under your hard gaze was extremely satisfying, and he had to admit seeing such controlled rage and sharp words pour from you was enjoyable and, among other things, wildly attractive.

Shouta thinks he should let you handle these situations more often, let you have your fun, maybe even plot to have you purposely go just a little too far and have him reel you back in. Maybe then people may start to understand that you aren’t to be treated lightly, you aren’t just a means to an end, just a glorified housewife. No, you’re much more than that and if it takes bloodied words and bloodier actions to get it through some thick skulls, well, he’s sure you know he’s willing to go there and farther.

But for now, he’d settle with the occasional threat of taking a body part.

____

Once again you stare out at the stars, thinking about the day’s events. You’re almost bouncing on your feet, adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You feel light now, knowing you can take control of an escalating situation. Whether or not you can do it all on your own isn’t a real question. Of course you could do it without Shouta present. His existence alone is enough to ward off any violence directed at you. But it’s your own actions that determine how people will perceive you.

You let Shouta control the first meeting incident, mostly because you had no clue what was going on and no information to work from. Now that you know Shouta is listening and that there’s a purpose behind his absence, you can use it to your advantage and weed out the worst of the bad apples. With that information, and confidence that Shouta will not reprimand you--but will in fact support you--for getting mouthy with said bad apples, you could let loose some of the rage that made your blood boil. It’s freeing, taking entitled men off their precious pedestals and knocking them down a bit.

Shouta wraps his arms around you for the third time, burying his face in your neck and breathing in your scent. He kisses you lightly, feather light presses of his lips against your skin. It really does feel good, being so close to someone.

“I thought this wasn’t becoming a habit.” You sigh and lean into him.

“I’m not quite tired. Honestly I’m thinking about today. I’m still on an adrenaline high just replaying it in my head, the thrill, being able to finally get a word in.” He chuckles, squeezing you a bit tighter to him.

“I’m going to assume you’d never really been allowed to do that sort of thing before.” You nod, a small smile curling your lips. Up until now you lacked any sort of standing or power, and the rush is amazing, for lack of better words. Shouta hums then nips at the shell of your ear, his voice sultry and deep.

“Well if you’re looking to burn energy I think I could help you with that.” Your breath hitches, not prepared for such a suggestion. For a second you believe it, believe he’s really suggesting what you think he is, but you can feel his hands moving and before you can react he’s digging his fingers into your sides, making you giggle uncontrollably.

He’s laughing with you, enjoying watching you try to squirm from his grasp. He releases you, and you run over to the bedroom and duck under the blanket in an attempt to hide, but he only laughs.

“You silly girl, now you’re trapped!” He finds your waist through the thick blanket and doesn’t relent until you’re gasping for air and crying for mercy. He stops, finally, and pulls the blanket off your head. Your face is flushed, your hair splayed wild over the sheets and your chest heaving for oxygen. For a moment his mind drifts to dirtier thoughts of a similar expression he’d like to see. He pushes those thoughts away as you beam up at him, your smile reminding him of sunshine. Rough fingers brush away the hair that had fallen over your face.

“Are you ready to try sleeping now, little one?” You lean your head into his hand, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. The way he’s gazing down at you now, you know you’d never felt so adored in your life.

“Let’s sleep.” He lies down and you get comfortable on top of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and wrapping your leg around his waist. His arms lock around you, holding you in place and he kisses the top of your head.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa shouta mha #mafia au

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gwynrielsupremacist · 3 years

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TWISTER PART 2

Read at AO3

if you want to be tagged in my fics, please tell me! 😗💖

yeah, it's all smut, so if you don't like it, please don't read it and refrain from posting hurtful comments, thanks <3

Gwyn swallowed hard, noticing how the little alcohol she had drunk rose throughout her body, clouding her mind.

Was her crush… asking for a second round?

Obviously she knew the double meaning of that, but she couldn't even get the idea that Azriel wanted to have sex with her enter her head.

I mean, yeah, she knew she was kind of attractive, but he?

He was a fucking Greek god.

Emerie ended up going to Morrigan's house, according to her, because they had arranged to finish a project at Morrigan's Design College, although Gwyn guessed they weren't just going to do the design work. She had watched Emerie choosing a set of red lace underwear, one of Mor's favorite colors.

Insecurity entered her body when she remembered how boring the set of underwear she was wearing was.

Perhaps Azriel expected… something more seductive?

"Gwyn, he hasn't even seen you yet, don't freak out." She told herself, but it was of little use.

Right now she was cursing anyone who was listening to her mind for choosing such uninteresting underwear.

Cassian and Nesta went to his room, taking a bottle of tequila and another of vodka, smirking as they left the two alone in the living room.

They were alone.

Azriel and Gwyn were alone.

The crush that she had heavily flirted with less than 30 minutes ago.

She was going to pass out, she wasn't going to take much longer with that mood.

She had to do something, even if she later regretted it.

She couldn't die without having tasted the perfect lips of her instructor.

She looked at Azriel, her eyes slowly dropping from his face to his abs, being somewhat visible thanks to the white T-shirt he was wearing.

She felt waves of heat go down to her core when she saw the long bulge that squeezed the gray sweatpants.

Fuck, was that… thing going to fit inside her?

"Do you like what you see, Berdara?" He asked seductively, running a hand over his shirt, pressing it closer to his hot body.

She felt her mouth salivate the moment she saw the fucking show he had under that shirt.

Shows like this shouldn't not be hidden.

Obviously not.

Grinning lasciviously, she got up from the couch, her hips swaying as she walked over to where Azriel stood, gazing shamelessly over her body.

She knew that blouse easily showed much of her breasts, and she felt fucking good when his gaze fell on them, his eyes darkening with sexual desire to find everything she possessed underneath her clothes.

She stood in front of the boy who stood with his legs half open, looking at Gwyn with delight and sensuality.

He patted his shapely thighs while he looked at her, running his tongue across his lips, asking Gwyn to sit on them.

However, she had better plans.

She swung one leg up onto the couch, swinging so she wouldn't fall off there - it would be fucking embarrassing to fall in such a situation - and after feeling like she wasn't going to fall if she made that move, she flopped down on top of his crotch, both of them groaning as her core came into contact with his hardened member, furious for attention.

She suddenly lost track of time, there was nothing more important than the wonderful sensation of fullness in her pussy.

God, she hadn't even gotten into her, he was going to break her.

She linked her arms around his neck, caressing the fuzz located in the area.

Azriel grunted, laying his head on the back of the couch.

Gwyn purred in satisfaction when she saw that he left the surface of his throat and neck at her disposal.

She approached him, shyly kissing the area.

Her eyes rolled back as the perfume that had apparently been applied entered her nostrils.

Fuck, there was no way anyone could smell that fucking good.

She continued kissing, now with more effort when she saw that Azriel allowed himself to be done, sighing at the attention of her lips.

Smiling, she bit the base of his neck, licking it repeatedly, then nibbling it again.

Azriel's cock pulsed dangerously close to her clit, sending waves of pleasure all over her body.

She felt how the heat was settling in her stomach under her.

Fuck, was her orgasm building now?

The throbbing of her clit was fucking painful, she needed more friction.

She needed that man to give her the attention she deserved.

She began to sway slowly on his dick, slow and sensual movements, while she continued to pay attention to his neck, noticing how shivers ran down his body.

A lascivious smile decorated her lips painted with carmine, seeing how that man shuddered at her touch.

She began the movement of her hips again, combining it with small bounces on his lap, noticing that his erection pulsed and moved violently in his pants.

Azriel grabbed Gwyn's chin, forcing her to separate her lips from the surface of his neck.

"Do you like to see me like this?" He whispered, biting his lip as he gazed at the spot where their bodies nearly met. "You like to know that this fucking erection is for you, right?"

She couldn't think, she couldn't try to speak when that man talked dirty.

Fuck, she loved when men talked dirty.

It was so… exciting.

She nodded quickly, trying to restart the friction in both bodies, however Azriel's palm rested on her hip.

"Speak up, Berdara. You can use that wonderful little mouth you have to talk." He advised her, slapping her buttock hard.

She moaned loudly, dropping her head on his shoulder.

God, did he just... spank her?

He massaged the area, over the fabric that covered the skin, running his fingers over the sore area, then hitting it again.

"Yes! I love knowing that I am the one who provoke you that erection!" She screamed, burying her face into his neck as she waited for another spanking.

However, he stopped.

Gwyn pulled her face away from his neck, frowning as she expected more pounding.

Azriel held up a dark eyebrow, giving her a crooked smile as he rubbed her buttocks, patting them.

"Do you like to be spanked?" He whispered into her ear, gently hitting her on the backside.

"Y-Yes." She moaned as she felt Azriel's large hands on her body, touching her however he wanted.

He smiled seductively, but didn't comment on her fetish.

What he did was get up from the couch with a grunt, lifting Gwyn, who was quickly linking her heels on the small of his back, positioning herself well on his body.

She didn't want to fall, as well as she didn't want to part with that man.

Searching for his mouth, they stared until Gwyn decided it was enough.

She needed to get those lips, if only once in her life.

Therefore, she brought their lips together in an explosive way, their teeth and tongues colliding with each other, battling who entered deeper, who managed to dominate more part of the other's mouth.

Everything was so hot, she noticed how her nipples were eyeing the situation over her blouse.

They were a mass of mouths, teeth, bites, licks.

Gwyn didn't realize when they had started up the stairs, but the fact was that they had started up them.

She assumed they would go to Azriel's room, since Nesta and Cassian would be in their own room.

Anticipation boiled inside her body, moisture beginning to stain the thong she had put on.

Fuck, she needed that man so bad ...

She listened, as she felt Azriel biting hard on her lower lip, as a door opened, entering a room.

Separating to breathe some air, she analyzed where she was.

There was a fucking huge bed, where perfectly Gwyn could sleep with Emerie and Nesta and they wouldn't get to touch all night.

There were two bedside tables, with a table lamp and a white clock.

She couldn't watch much more, as Azriel pulled her gently into the center of the bed, bouncing slightly as she landed on it.

Azriel leaned back on top, careful not to put too much weight on Gwyn, as he kissed her wet, red lips effervescently, feeling the heat settle back on her belly, drowning out her moans as she groped Az's shirt, tucking her hands inside it.

Azriel pulled away, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as Gwyn continued to stroke whatever skin she could, delighted at the wonderful feel of his abs.

Gwyn began to smile, doing a maneuver that Azriel himself had taught her, grabbing his arm that was near her head and turning it.

Suddenly, Gwyn was the one on top, Azriel smiling at how perfectly his student had made the key.

Gwyn's features lit up with happiness as she saw how her instructor was proud of her.

Azriel put a hand on Gwyn's neck, lowering her head to begin kissing again, more slowly this time, savoring the alcohol and chocolate taste of the dessert they had had less than 20 minutes ago.

The kiss was slow, enjoying the sensation of both mouths in sync as their tongues began a lascivious dance from their mouths.

Azriel ran her hands up Gwyn's torso, massaging her toned belly, then lowered it to her thighs, squeezing masterfully.

His hand was inserted into her inner thighs, so close to where she really wanted him but so far at the same time.

She knew her thong was completely drenched from her fluids.

She supposed she should be embarrassed to react that way to him, but please, it was Azriel they were talking about, nothing was enough with him.

Parting both lips, Gwyn grabbed the hem of Azriel's shirt, pulling it over his arms to remove it.

She gasped as she watched the spectacle the man had under his shirt.

A row of perfectly built abs, well-structured pecs, and a V that disappeared into the elastic of the pants.

It made Gwyn's mouth water to think how well Azriel would be gifted in some other intimate parts.

To try to find out, as they devoutly kissed again, Gwyn gently laid her whitish hand over his dark pecs, squeezing softly..

She continued to descend, tracing random figures on his skin.

She smiled into the kiss as shivers ran down the guy's spine, deepening the kiss as he tightened his grip on her thighs.

She lowered her hand a little lower, until she felt the prominent bulge at his crotch, twitching under her hand, demanding immediate attention.

She had done orals on multiple occasions, although she much preferred that the oral be done to her.

However, she needed that cock to be in her mouth.

She needed it badly.

"Gwyn…" He growled through his teeth, guessing what she was thinking right now. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

She began to slide back, smiling challengingly until the bulge was very close to her lips, his pants soiled with precum.

"The problem is..." she began, while grabbing the hem of his pants. "I just need to have your dick in my mouth." She pulled down the fabric, his cock coming out of it.

Her throat went dry when she saw Azriel's member.

Fuck, seeing him hidden in his pants was one thing, but seeing him in reality was another thing completely.

It was dark, with veins on the shaft while his head was drenched with precum.

She locked her hand around the base, beginning to move up and down her hand, noticing how Azriel began to tremble dangerously.

"Fuck…" He growled, staring at Gwyn and then at his cock in her hand.

It was so big, even with her mouth and hands around it, she didn't cover the entire area.

She noticed how her clit trembled deliciously, causing her to massage his cock more quickly.

She wanted that wonderful dick inside her. She wasn't going to wait a single moment.

"It's not fair…" Azriel began, pointing to Gwyn's still-on clothes. "You can see me and please me, but I can't do the same."

She looked up at her body and realized it was true.

Her blouse was a little baggy at the bottom, but her pants were still in place.

Masterfully, she unzipped the zipper and unfastened the button that kept them closed, pulling them down until she gave them a shake, throwing them somewhere in the room.

Then she passed the blouse over her head, tossing it in the same direction as her pants.

She was only in her underwear.

She watched as his eyes roamed over her body, locating in the soaked thong, doing little to hide what she was feeling down there.

Having quickly undressed, she resumed her attention, as she massaged it with the palm, she began to lick the tip delicately, savoring the bitter taste of the precum.

Azriel grunted, one hand grasping Gwyn's scalf.

She relaxed her throat, assuming he wanted to fuck her throat, but he didn't do anything else, just let his fingers slip through her coppery hair.

But then she felt Azriel's other hand travel up her ass, grabbing the strap of her panties, pulling it away to give him easy access to her hot, soaked, throbbing slit.

"Please…" Gwyn moaned, wiggling her hips, trying to shove those long fingers she had always fantasized inside her.

"Please that?" He murmured, laying the strip on one buttock as his ring finger circled her slit. He tsked, muttering: "So wet… are you always so wet for me, Berdara?"

She noticed how more moisture came out of her inside at those words.

But she didn't answer, and Azriel, apparently, wanted her to use that little mouth she had.

She lowered her mouth onto his cock, licking the shaft slowly, running her tongue over the throbbing veins, while Azriel played with her pussy lips, groping but never entering her.

"I asked you a question, Berdara. Answer." He ordered her, slapping her pussy with force.

She screamed out his name with pleasure, sure that her vibrations and voice had done wonders on his cock.

She wanted to see how much more she could tempt him.

The more she could provoke him.

Ignoring his command, she put his cock in her mouth again, sucking the tip while rising from it and lowering her hand with force, listening to the grunts of pleasure that he let out.

Smiling, she clicked her tongue at the tip, noting the wonderful taste of precum flooding her papillae.

She was close to coming.

But of course, Azriel didn't want to come in Gwyn's mouth.

The hand that was still taunting Gwyn's entrance finally inserted two fingers into her slit.

Gwyn moaned with his cock on her throat, noticing how it shuddered inside her mouth.

He was poking his fingers in and out of her quickly, at breakneck speed.

She closed her eyes tightly, letting herself be carried away by the pleasure.

With the hand that had previously been tending to Azriel's shaft, she lowered it to her clit, pinching and moving it from left to right, combining speeds to make her orgasm come faster. .

She needed it faster, it was not going to last much longer, the well of pleasure was increasing so fast and she would soon overflow.

But that seemed exactly what Azriel wanted to do, inserting one more finger inside her.

Not being able to breathe well, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, moaning loudly as she began to move her hips, looking where his fingers were thrusting in her, glistening with her arousal.

She felt so good. Those fingers were fucking thicker and longer than her own.

She needed it to go deeper.

She needed his cock inside her. Now.

She saw how his dick was twitching violently.

He didn't have much more left to orgasm.

So she slapped the hand that was playing with her pussy away, freeing up the space, and grabbed the shaft of his cock with one hand, lining up to finally unite both bodies.

However, Azriel grabbed Gwyn's arm quickly: "Condom."

She denied, explaining: "I'm taking the contraceptive pill. And I'm clean. If you are too, we don't have to do it with a condom."

Azriel nodded, confirming that he was clean, and moving his hips up, he lightly tucked the tip into her pussy.

They both groaned at the delicious sensation.

Azriel watched her closely, as he let Gwyn sit, taking his cock deeper, parting her inner walls with a point of pain.

She stopped, opening her mouth for air. It was so fucking big.

"Fuck. You're so tight." He whined, slowly comforting her waist, hoping that she would get used to his size.

However, she needed him now. Even if he broke her in two.

She needed to have him inside her.

So, taking a breath, she dropped completely on top of his cock, crying out loudly when he hit that spot that made her see stars.

Azriel growled, squeezing the flesh of her thighs as he dropped his head to the head of the bed, closing his eyes at the wonderful experience.

"Oh my God, you take me so damn well." He moaned as he watched the point where they connected, his cock disappearing into the folds of her pussy.

She waited about 10 seconds to get used to the fucking size.

It wasn't the first time she'd had sex, but none of her former lovers were as gifted as Azriel was.

She placed her hands on Az's pecs, lifting her hips slightly and then lowering them, getting used to the small thrusts.

Fuck, that felt so damn good.

"Gwyn, damn it, don't stop baby." He asked, lifting his pelvis, accompanying her thrusts, helping her to enter more inward.

The speed of the thrusts was increasing. The pain was still there, but it was almost imperceptible. Now there was only the pleasure that Azriel provided her.

"You feel so fucking good…" He groaned, slapping one of her thighs hard.

She lifted a hand to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

She needed more friction. She was so close to orgasm... She was so close...

"Az…" She moaned. Her legs were sore. She loved and hated riding her mistresses alike.

Understanding what was happening, he rested his hand on her belly, letting it fall until she was hunched over, her hands resting on his legs.

"Hold on." He warned him, grinning lewdly.

Then, he began to thrust like a soul carrying the devil.

Gwyn cried, screamed the name of her lover, moaning.

She knew it was impossible that Nesta and Cassian weren't listening, but she cared little.

The only thing that mattered was how fucking good it felt, Azriel's cock coming out of her and into her pussy with breakneck speed, spreading her fucking wide.

"Azriel!" She screamed when he reached that sweet spot, rolling her eyes up as waves of pleasure came down to her clit.

She lowered her gaze from her body, sweaty from work, to her clit and pussy.

Her clit was damn red, begging for immediate attention, as her slit slipped in and out of his cock, glistening with her fluids.

Leaning his hips down, he hit that spot again.

She was going to fall, she couldn't stand the pleasure that guy was giving her.

It was too much. It was all too much and too little.

It was perfect.

"Are you going to come?" Az asked her, eyes clouded with pleasure as he punched over and over and over the point of her, causing her to rave with pleasure. "Are you going to be a good girl and are you going to cum on my cock?"

She nodded, in those moments she was not able to form any kind of coherent sentence, only little whimpers came out that didn't make any kind of sense.

However, Azriel was satisfied with it, hitting deeper and harder, while a hand lowered towards her clit, granting it the attention that it had been demanding all along.

"Good girl ... Now I want you to cum all over my cock and cry out my name, so the neighbors know exactly who you belong to." He demanded, slowly tapping her clit with his fingertip, teasing her.

He began to wrap his thumb around it, pinching and catching it with two fingers, pulling at it and then letting go.

It only took three thrusts for Gwyn to fall into the abyss of pleasure.

Screaming his name out of her, she touched her breasts forcefully, while wave after wave of pleasure were coursing through her body, Azriel helping her to carry out her orgasm.

She noticed how Azriel let out a growl of pleasure between his teeth, jets of cum spilling into her pussy.

Exhausted, she dropped onto Azriel's chest, both of them gasping for air after the overwhelming orgasm.

She whimpered as Azriel pulled his limp dick from inside her, the feeling of emptiness overwhelming, but Gwyn had no desire for anything other than to sleep on the chest of that man who had made her feel stars.

His hands began to tangle in the sheets, finally covering the two lovers with them, still trying to catch their breath.

"It was…" He started, having to grab some more air.

Gwyn nodded, hiding in the crook of his neck.

She didn't want to leave. She knew she should, but she didn't want to.

Everything had been wonderful to pass up.

Besides, it was her coach, what was she going to do?

"Gwyn?" Her name pulled her out of her thoughts, looking at Az, who was looking at her worried, "Are you okay? Does something hurt? Have I been too harsh?"

A goofy smile appeared on her lips when she heard those questions.

He had been such great at fucking her, and now he cared about her health.

Her heart was beating happily. She was happy.

Shaking her head, she gently kissed his chin.

Azriel sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist, staying that way for a few minutes.

However, that question kept passing through Gwyn's eyes. She must ask him.

"What will happen to our… friendship?"

Gwyn was afraid that this had screwed up their friendship. Perhaps she was attracted to him, but she did not want to lose her friendship.

Besides, maybe that tumble had been just that, a tumble.

"We can remain friends, obviously." He whispered, tangling his hand in the strands clinging to her neck, stroking lightly. "But we can also… take our friendship further, if that's okay with you…"

Gwyn nodded, smiling against his skin: "Does that mean I'm your… girlfriend?"

Azriel smiled alike, looking at her as his entire face lit up with happiness: "I'd be the happiest man if you were."

They both smiled foolishly, staring into each other's eyes. They brought their mouths closer, giving each other a small beak, which led to their mouths joining in a much more passionate kiss.

"Apparently I'll have to thank Nesta for thinking about playing Twister." Gwyn thought, but she put it on the back burner.

Now only Az's lips mattered, both hearts beating at the same rhythm, forming a symphony that ran through the entire room, blocking out any sound other than that of the two lovers.

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#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #smutty #azriel #gwyn #acosf

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moonstruckbucky · 4 years

Text

The Recruit (8/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Angst, pouty Steve. More soft Bucky. That’s it, that’s the warning.

Notes: Thank you all for the feedback of the previous chapter and for your patience while real life took over for a bit. Someone mentioned that they felt like Bucky/their relationship wasn’t featured enough, so I hope this chapter fulfills that for you! x

Also, a giant thank you to @marauderskeeper for this beautiful artwork!!! I’m so fucking in love with this! How perfect is this artwork, y’all?!

Steve finds patterns in the ceiling, shapes. It’s near-silent in the room save the sound of peepers through the open window, the soft breathing beside him. The weight against his chest shifts, sighs, rolls over, and he swallows thickly. Traces the lines of her body even though they’re all wrong, catches the scent of her hair - the wrong color.

He isn’t a stranger to the modern concepts of love and relationships, but it’s an indulgence he doesn’t frequently partake in. The women he meets are great, just none seem to strike that chord in him. None that seem to challenge him or intrigue quite like you.

The woman leaves with a friendly smile, an easy exit with no lingering questions of another night together or anything. He remains in bed for a little while longer, hands tucked up behind his head as he connects constellations in the ceiling. Training begins in thirty minutes, and he inhales deeply to quell the raging in his belly. He’s nervous; it’s the first he’ll see you after his apology.

He’d heard about your successful mission and he’s proud, almost excited for you, even though he knows he has no right. His treatment of you only serves to prove he’s failed as Captain; he’s meant to lead and guide and encourage. Instead, he judged and ridiculed and humiliated, drove you to the point of persevering to prove him wrong.

And you did. He’s embarrassed, ashamed - but proud all the same.

He dresses slowly in the SHIELD-issued black tac pants and navy t-shirt, the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the breast. Someone like Nat or Bucky or even Sam might accuse him of stalling as he carefully and meticulously laces his sneakers, but to anyone else he’d appear sluggish. To anyone else, he’d say he’s tired, that he’d had a late night, but if it were any of the aforementioned three, he’d pointedly keep his mouth shut.

He’s nervous - he’s man enough to admit it. He’s unsure of what to expect, unsure if he’d imagined his apology and your reluctance to believe him. He hates not being sure, not being confident, hates being thrown off his axis, out of balance. Structure, routine, and control is weaved into his DNA, and by apologizing, he’s given up that control, given a piece of him away for someone to do with as she pleases.

He hates it, loathes the way it makes his movements slower, stiffer, like he slept on a bad mattress all night instead of his cushy pillow-top next to a warm body. A warm body he really had no business bringing back here last night, but he brushes that thought away.

He takes a little longer than usual brushing and inspecting his teeth, snarling into the mirror and using floss of all things until he looks at the time and knows he can’t put this off any longer. Schooling his features into impassive steel, Steve sweeps from his room. The ride in the elevator down to the training room is spent building up a wall in his mind, a wall away from her - from you.

You’re already there when he enters, along with Bucky and a few other recruits. You’re smiling, teasing Bucky, and it puts lead in his chest. Absolutely scorches when you notice him and your smile promptly drops. He feels his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows heavily, and the burn in his chest lessons only a little when you offer him a respectful nod.

He returns it, catches Bucky’s eye and his friend gives him a reassuring smile. Steve’s not sure it helps. Mentally shaking it off, he begins the session, starts them off with running laps while he and Bucky spectate.

Steve can’t help but watch you; you’ve got near-perfect running form and you seem unbothered by your knee. You keep pace with everyone, even set it once or twice, and his scrutiny of you means he catches every little side-glance you give his best friend. The little curl at the corners of your lips, a darting glance away.

He catches the same expression on Bucky’s face - and he knows. How could he not know? The way he’d intervened when Steve was being unreasonably harsh, the easy, gentle teasing between you just now, the ever-present smile on Bucky’s face whenever he looks at his phone, the secret glances now as you increase the pace and pull ahead.

As Steve moves the group on to sparring sessions, the looks between you and Bucky become less sneaking and more appraising, and Steve has to dig hard beneath to find any joy that his friend has found his own happiness. Steve knows Bucky deserves it, after all he’s been through and yet.

The obvious connection between the two of you makes his chest hurt and jaw clench so tight it aches. When Bucky calls on you to demonstrate with him, Steve has to hide his curled fists in the pockets of his sweats.

His mind is muddled; he has no reason to be this angry - jealous, surely - but angry? No. Aggravated enough he wants to knock Bucky’s teeth out, sick enough at the sight of the two of you, moving in such synchrony, that he almost looks for the closest trash barrel.

Instead, he pushes the recruits hard, calls out tips to avoid making his previous mistake again, and offers assistance where it’s needed. An adjusted position here, a tip about roundhouse kicks there. He can almost ignore you and Bucky grunting and shouting only feet away.

You, meanwhile, are almost hyper-aware of Steve and the one-eighty he’s seemed to have made. He’s keeping his distance, though you don’t miss the pinched expression to his face or the underhanded glances he shoots you. Probably anticipating a snarky reply or otherwise prove you aren’t trying to remain civil.

He��s made his way over as Bucky pulls you into a headlock, the position warming something deep within you. His arm is loose enough around your neck that he isn’t cutting off any air, but his pelvis is flush with your backside and you even think he’s grinding it - imperceptibly enough that it goes unnoticed by the others. He’s fresh, you’re learning, pushing boundaries wherever he can.

Normally, you’d play along, dig and push a little back, but not with Steve watching the way he is. Arms crossed, feet hip-width apart in his typical Captain stance, but he’s far less rigid than he was. You execute S.I.N.G. (solar plexus, instep, nose, groin) with anxious butterflies, but you manage to successfully complete the move, spin, and move to jab Bucky again.

Steve’s voice is even gentle when he tells you, “Move your feet. Don’t lock up or remain stationary.”

It’s such a far cry from his previous gruff behavior that it throws you, knocks you slightly off-kilter so that you stumble into Bucky’s chest. With heat in your cheeks, you push away from him, try to resume as if you didn’t fumble at all. You’re meant to be the picture of indifference and yet Steve’s one-eighty has you completely floored.

Should you be, though? He did promise you he’d be better, and so far he’s kept that promise. Perhaps a part of you hadn’t believed him, hadn’t had any reason to believe him - about anything. The fact that he’s trying stirs something in you, and it leaves you open to wind up face-down on the mat.

“Shit,” you grunt as the wind rushes from your lungs.

“That’s what happens when you get distracted,” Bucky teases before reaching with his metal hand to help you to your feet. “Your enemy won’t hesitate to exploit that opening if you give it to them.”

“Yeah,” you agree on a sigh, “yeah. Let’s do it again.”

The warmth in your cheeks doesn’t cool as you run through your spar again. This time, you manage to block out Steve’s close scrutiny and get Bucky on his back, a knee pressed into his chest. You know he can toss you off without a hitch but he lays there, lets you have the win.

“Better,” Steve compliments with an approving nod. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, so you stare at his chest - which, to your shocking admission, isn’t all that much better. The intrusive thought forces you to duck your head, busy yourself with your water bottle as Bucky and Steve begin a rundown of the next exercise.

If either notice you take a little longer to collect yourself, they don’t say anything. After a few more moments of distracting yourself with your water bottle, you return to the group as the Captain and Bucky begin a mock-mission to sharpen your skills.

By the time you’re released from training, you’re covered in a layer of sweat that shimmers under the overhead lights, your mind is tapped, and your entire body feels like it went a round or five against Mike Tyson - super soldiers in your case, but they’d pulled their punches. The muscles in your back pull taut as you stretch, a tightness that makes you wince, expel a tiny whimper.

A gasp as a set of hands lands on your back - one warm, the other just slightly cooler - and the thumbs dig in, find the tightest muscles and press.

“Fuck,” you hiss, arching against Bucky’s skilled hands. A pained smile over your shoulder and, “Hi.”

“Hi.” He grins and leans forward to drop a kiss to your temple. “You did good today.”

“Feels like I went ten rounds with an MMA fighter, but thank you.” Another hmph as Bucky digs his knuckles into your lower back, and a sigh as the tightened muscles release. You slouch against him, disregarding the slight dampness to his compression t-shirt, and turn your face into his neck.

“Feel better?” he asks, throat vibrating against your forehead. Wordlessly, you nod.

“Until tomorrow when it really sets in. You’ll have to carry me everywhere,” you retort cheekily, tilting your face to meet his glimmering eyes.

“Oh, will I?” A teasing upturn of his lips and your eyes dart to them, hold there for a moment as your heart trips over itself in your chest.

“Uh huh.” A pause, then you shrug. “Or you can just stay in bed with me.”

The darkening of his eyes is offset sharply by the awkward look that suddenly shadows his face, cheeks going rouge as he quickly averts his eyes. It’s an odd reaction, and you tilt your head, mouth popping open before he overrides you.

“Whatever you want, doll,” he assures with a smile, all traces of bashfulness gone.

It’s a bit disconcerting how quickly his charming, easy-going demeanor is back in place, but you chalk it up to his former status as an assassin. Give nothing away, a mask he can flip off and on. He further pulls your mind away by lifting your hand to his lips and dotting small kisses across your knuckles.

“C’mon. Should take an ice bath for those muscles.” And he tugs you down the hallway.

“Mother of fucking SHIT.”

Bucky chortles, applies pressure to your shoulders to keep you from popping out of the bathtub he’s filled with ice and water. There’s a burn in your limbs from the cold, and your nails scrape at the ceramic of the tub, squeaking in the small space. Breath rushing in and out as you try to relax, loosen your sore, tightened muscles to let the coldness do its job.

But it’s hard, your mind whines, and your verbalize said whine pathetically.

“It’s so cold.” It’s a whisper, because speaking any louder is downright impossible as your brain works overtime to warm your body.

“I was frozen in ice off and on for seventy years,” he reminds you teasingly, “you can handle it.”

You hiss a laugh, and it makes his mouth twitch. He recalls the first time he ever made a joke about his history with HYDRA. Steve nearly shit a brick before chiding him about how he shouldn’t joke about such things.

“Steve, it happened to me,” he’d reminded, “I should be able to joke about it all I want. Better than going into total shutdown every time HYDRA is mentioned.”

Steve hadn’t said anything after that, but each time Bucky made a jab at HYDRA, he didn’t miss the disapproving gleam in his friend’s eye.

He feels relief that you laugh, feels, well, normal, and like he’s made progress if he feels he can confidently joke about his trauma. He knows he’s made progress, but there are still instances where he feels the others aren’t so sure.

With you, though, he doesn’t have to second-guess it. You don’t treat him like glass, like he’s going to shatter at the first sign of distress. It’s refreshing from the overbearing manner with which Steve treats him on most occasions. He’s thankful you hadn’t known the Bucky from before, the one Steve grew up with, the ghost of a time that’ll never come again. You’ve nothing to compare him to, nothing to miss like Steve does. It’s as refreshing as ice cream on a hot day...or an ice bath following a rigorous workout.

“C-Can I g-ge-get out yet?” Your teeth are chattering, arms crossed tightly over your chest and rubbing at your arms, riddled with gooseflesh. Your lips are even turning slightly blue as they wobble with the cold.

“Can you feel your muscles?” he asks, reaching for the towel he’d placed on the toilet seat.

“I ca-can’t f-f-feel my lips, never m-mind my mus-muscles.” The snark is lost amongst the clicking of your teeth, but it gleams heavy in your eyes. Smirking, Bucky holds out the towel and helps you stand on shaky legs, like Bambi on ice.

Leggings and sports bra plastered like a second skin, they in no way help to warm you even out of the ice, and after you’re wrapped in the towel, Bucky gives you your privacy to strip down and get changed. Movements unsteady, your wet clothes are plopped into a pile on the tile floor and new, warm, dry clothes are hastily thrown on. Despite the rigorous workout this morning, you feel freshly invigorated, like maybe you could run a mile - once feeling comes back to your legs, that is.

Burrowed in the new clothes, you step out of the bathroom to see Bucky reclined on your bed, looking quite at home. It puts a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest as you approach, and it only grows when he opens his arms for you to burrow into the heat of him. His arms wind around you, the metal one a comforting weight against your back.

It’s silent for a little while, a peaceful blanket pulled over the two of you in the small space of your room. Bucky’s chest rises and falls gently beneath your cheek, slow breaths, and you almost think he’s asleep until he speaks.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

You ponder for a couple beats. “What’s your favorite part of the 21st century? I mean, you were frozen off and on for so long, you didn’t really get a chance to enjoy anything right?”

He hears the trepidation in your voice, the slight intonation that you might actually be crossing a line by asking. He smiles, chuckles a little so you know you haven’t offended him.

“Is it predictable to say the food?” At your head shake, he goes on, “I mean, in the 30s and 40s, we barely had nothin’. Sometimes we’d all go to bed hungry with no dinner, and sometimes I gave my sisters my portion of food. I was the oldest, you know? Had to take care of my family. But now...now there’s just, so much. And so many different kinds! You know, when I first came to the compound, after Shuri fixed my noggin, I didn’t eat a lot. Ate only what I thought I was allowed to eat. One small serving. Was still going to bed hungry even when all this food was at my disposal.

Then Steve came to talk to me. Told me he was the same way, when he first came out of the ice. Said he had to take it slow because even though he was bigger, his body wasn’t used to eating so much. Neither was mine, even though I was healthier when I... before. HYDRA didn’t feed me, not really. No hot, home-cooked meal for the Fist. It was MREs, or a feeding tube - if I was awake long enough at the base. My system got used to it, and then when HYDRA fell, it was always...Ramen or canned meat, some fruit, if I could afford it. Nothing real substantial. Even in Wakanda, I was still only eating small portions. My first three-course meal here, I puked it all up. I was so astounded by the fact that I could eat as much as I wanted to, but my body wasn’t ready for it. It was used to rationing itself on small meals, used to fasting sometimes, too. But it got better. I ate a little more at each meal, got my body used to eating three times a day. Started working out more, too, to up my hunger. Eventually I could put away three servings at each meal and still have room for dessert. I’ve got a wicked sweet tooth.”

The last line is so unexpected, it makes you snort, choke on the breath, before you can laugh for real. It’s short, though, when you take in the entirety of his story and realize there’s so much you still have to learn about one James Barnes, so much of himself to reveal, so many layers to peel back so you can see who he truly is. A little skip in your heartbeat betrays your excitement to find out, if he’ll let you.

"I’ve got a list,” he then says, “of things people have recommended I try. Maybe you can help me cross some of them off, huh?”

“Bucky Barnes, are you officially asking me on a date?” you tease, leaning your head back to aim a cheeky smirk his way.

His chest rumbles against with that warm chuckle that warms you to your bones. “Suppose I am. You gonna leave a guy hangin’?”

“Hm, I suppose then I could assist you with this foodie bucket list. We’ll make a cultured man out of you yet.”

#the recruit #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #steve x you #steve x you x bucky #bucky x you x steve #bucky x reader x steve #steve x reader x bucky

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aquillis-main · 2 years

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Misery Tastes Chapter 1

Effing finally. I’m nearing the end of this.

Wait, didn’t I say that I would only post if I actually finished this multi-chapter series? Yeah, well... I’m actually getting as impatient as you guys about it, so I’m going to release a chapter or two as I write out the last two or so chapters. I’ll also be doing edits as I write out the chapters as well.

Any ways, Misery Tastes!

In this chapter: Jingle Bells, Harold smells, Eggman ran away!

And Ovi breaks his leg, thus kickstarting the problem of Ovi getting stuck back at the one place he DIDN’T want to be at with no way out.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (1/2) | 14

Ovi sighed as the recent sect of Egg Pawns was smashed into by his escrima, looking over the scene in full. They were near the centre of Obsidianna, a bustling city on the West Coast of Northamer. A mishmash of a city, the megalopolis is planned right from the bottom up to have multiple structures of different eras, creating the disordered and hodgepodge nature of the city. While the city itself was disorganized in it’s structure, all the roads and paths connected to one another, allowing every part of the city to be interconnected. Ovi himself had sat on top of his pile of Egg Pawns, looking over a park area that had been nearly trounced by Eggman’s latest scheme. One hand on his chin and sitting at the topmost Egg Pawn on the pile, Ovi couldn’t help but glare at the building just a little further away from the park.

It was the most grandiose building in the area, a true building meant to mark the epicentre of the city. Its sleek design made Ovi want to gag at it -- yet held a certain fondness for the very thing he was glaring at.

“At least we’re on the side that doesn’t display it’s name.” Ovi thought, getting up and dusting the pants of his leotard, before carefully walking off the pile of Egg Pawns.

Eggman had been eyeing this company for reasons that have yet to be found out, but the idea of letting this location be trashed by the mad doctor made Ovi even queasier.

Once the changeling got off the trash pile, he decided to look for the most damaged/destroyed area of the park. Just as Ovi was looking for the fight, a supersonic pop came through the air, a blue hedgehog tumbling on the ground towards Ovi. As soon as the hedgehog got close to Ovi’s feet, the momentum of the hedgehog’s descent subsided, leaving the blue hedgehog half-burrowed into the ground. Ovi, feeling a bit cheeky, crouched at the hedgehog’s face to mock his friend.

“You seem to be doing well today.” The orange haired changeling stated, smirk getting wider as the hedgehog glared at him. Instead of following up his comment, he immediately held out his hand, which the hedgehog accepted immediately. Once the hedgehog was not half-submerged in dirt and mud, Ovi switched to being serious. “He’s really persistent lately.”

“It seems that whatever Eggman wants this time, he really needs.” The hedgehog stated, dusting himself off before stretching and relaxing his muscles. He turned towards Ovi, and winked his gorgeous, beautiful lime green eyes. “It’s not like it’s going to be super long, anyways.”

“Yeah, it’s just you’re taking longer than you usually do.” Ovi remarked, catching the hedgehog off-guard with the persuasiveness of someone who wasn’t blushing madly. The hedgehog smirked, turning back toward the fight he just flew from.

“Why don’t you come, then? It’ll take less time than staring at that building across the way.” He held out his gloved hand, expecting Ovi to be as eager to join in the fight. However, what he got instead was an intense stare and a nervous bite on the lips, before Ovi decided to accept the hedgehog’s offer – slapping his own gloved hand into the hedgehog’s.

“Well, we shouldn’t be dawdling long, Sonic.” Ovi commented, yet it didn’t feel like the natural flare of his usual remarks. Sonic frowned a little, but immediately zipped along towards where the fight with Eggman was taking place, filing the strange behaviour for later.

After all, it wasn’t right to ask when Eggman’s being his usual self.

The two had arrived at the location where Eggman’s latest mech was tearing through the street, it’s drills going all out against the concrete. It looked like the giant version of Eggman’s original mech in Emerald Hill, only more mole-esque, with the front claws and snout of the mole being replaced by drills. The rest of the machine wasn’t up to Eggman’s usual flare, instead looing like it just only rolled out this morning. Amy was currently trying to hammer one of the front paws into the ground, with Tails staying back and analyzing the situation. Sonic, thinking of the consequences of just placing Ovi near the robot, opted instead to have Ovi get off next to Tails instead.

“Tails, what’s the down-low?” Ovi immediately asked as Sonic got close to drop Ovi, with the latter instead opting to vault off Sonic like a horse vault. The hedgehog grumbled as Ovi stuck the landing, moving his shoulders to get rid of the pain. Tails looked at the two with a slight smile, before showcasing the Miles Electric screen to Ovi.

“It seems that this ‘Egg Mole’ Eggman’s got is meant for more underground work – simply drawing it to the surface has severely damaged most of the mechanisms.” Tails stated, pointing to a line of code that specified this information. Ovi nodded, finding that code correct in Tails’ assumption. “There’s a whole area underneath one of the paws, and Amy and Nebula are trying to figure out which one.”

Just as Tails said that, another blue blur shot off like a rocket from the Egg Mole, the missing ‘paw’ of the machine being the culprit. The bullet managed to hit the tree Tails was nearby, before sagging down to have their butt touch the ground.

The bullet was a light blue dragoness, with a purple skirt and top. When her eyes opened, they revealed a pink so bright it hid any iris or pupil from the outside world. Her head was framed with two horns stuck to the tree itself. The horns themselves go straight to a sky-blue hair like mane that flowed straight down to her tail. Ovi hissed as the dragoness immediately shucked her horns out of the tree, causing a large amount of damage to it.

“Nebula, are you alright?” Tails asked, trying not to look as the dragoness removed herself from the tree. Nebula dusted herself off before replying.

“I’m fine, Friend Tails.” She stated, honey voice dissonant with her tone and glare at the robot. “It seems I might have gotten lucky on which ‘paw’ it was.”

“Good, that’ll make it easier to get Eggman out of here.” Sonic cawed, winding up his arms and preparing for his next attack.

Just as Sonic was about to attack, Amy was also thrown towards Nebula, whom caught the fastball right into her hands. “Ohhh! I think I found it…” Amy dizzily said, getting up before falling back into Nebula’s arms. Tails hummed quizzingly.

“That’s… That’s strange. That’s a bit too easy…” Tails said, before a blast of dark blue and orange ran off toward the Egg Mole. “Sonic, Ovi! Wait!” the fox kit tried to warn the two a second too late – they were already out of earshot.

Sonic immediately stopped in front of Eggman’s newest toy, whistling out a long note for Eggman to hear. The mole-mech turned towards Sonic, whom waved cheekily.

“Eggman! You’re making a mountain out of a molehill! Why don’t you try and pick someone your speed?” Sonic yelled out, confident smirk taking most of his face. The mech immediately slammed one of it’s paws into the area that Sonic was just at, the hedgehog using the arm to climb up to the back where the egg-shaped scientist was seated, the iconic Eggmobile situated within the mole robot.

“Ah, Sonic. Been wondering if you would return after I threw you off earlier.” Eggman stated, not believing a word he said as he pressed a few buttons. “Then again, you’re a persistent little pest, just like the animal I based my current masterpiece off of.”

“Last I checked, I’m a hedgehog, not a mole.” Sonic irritably stated, clenching his teeth. Eggman grinned wider at the testiness of his enemy.

“Now, now. You going off on me might not be the best option for you. After all, claw drills aren’t the only thing I installed.” With that, Eggman pressed a button, bringing out huge machine guns and rockets.

With another press of a button, the rockets went flying off, having targeted Sonic. Sonic broke out into a run at that point, dodging the machine gun fire and dancing around the rockets that got close. In a moment’s notice, Sonic used the rockets to try piercing the metal without success – at best leaving a scuff mark and not much else.

While Eggman and Sonic were having their ‘talk’, Ovi tried his best to handle the feet of the machine. However, no matter how much he tried to line up the pressure points with his escrima, the ‘claws’ kept on moving about thanks to Eggman being preoccupied with Sonic. “Damnit, it’s hard to get a decent hit.” He muttered to himself as he tried again – this time, with a hit.

The machine reared backwards, nearly throwing Sonic off. Ovi yipped and hollered at the hit, getting Eggman’s attention immediately.

“Oh, so you brought the rich brat along?” Eggman callously sneered, pressing another button immediately. “Perfect.”

Sonic realized what was going on, and jumped off the robot to grab Ovi before –

Crash

Boom

Crunch

“GYAHHHHH!”

Ovi’s scream pierced the air before Sonic managed to jump off the Egg Mole entirely, his eyes widening as he saw the damage from the treadmills from the Egg Mole’s hind legs.

While Ovi had been fast enough to get out of the total crush zone of the detached arm, he hadn’t been fast enough to get his left leg free from the falling debris. While the leg didn’t seem to be pierced at all, at least as far as Sonic could tell, he could tell that Ovi was unable to get himself out if Eggman were to try to escape now.

Sonic clenched his fists, not even noticing Tails, Amy and Nebula working together to lift the debris off Ovi, nor did he notice a new human trying to pick Ovi up. Sonic needed all that he had to trounce Eggman right then and there, but as soon as he decided on his plan of action, the contraption started to buckle and sway a load, forcing Sonic to jump off the robot.

“Do leave a space for me! I’ll be paying the family home a visit soon, after all!” Eggman chirped, malice dripping off every word. “His father is who I plan on going to collect from! Ta-ta for now!” Eggman waved as the Egg Mole rolled into the hole it came from, shaking the ground as Eggman fled the scene. Sonic growled, wanting to chase after Eggman, but flashes of Ovi’s scream just minutes before made Sonic reconsider, turning back to find everyone sans Ovi and the mysterious human.

Rushing over to where the trio were, Sonic immediately searched for their wayward friend. “Where’s Ovi?” Sonic asked, keeping himself collected as best he could. Amy and Nebula immediately went into a tirade that Sonic, for the life of him, couldn’t follow. And it wasn’t for lack of trying – both girls were doing their best to inform him about what happened when he was too focused with Eggman, but their constant interjections made it impossible to follow, even at the best of intentions. Sonic instead turned toward Tails, hoping to get a bit of info on what was going on.

Tails’ ears drooped as Sonic got closer, and then hung his head when his brother asked the question. “The man that was here earlier…” He trailed off, before becoming resolute in what he had to say.

“He just took Ovi and left.”