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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

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Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone

So this builds off of the whole "Tommy has somehow found himself on Hermitcraft after the exile arc" thing that got really popular with @redorich and @petrichormeraki on tumblr. Basically it's an excuse to give Tommy therapy and 20+ parent figures. One thing that's a common thread in those stories is that Tommy is shocked that Hermitcraft has infinite respawns and all of the hermits are quick to reassure him that he really won't perma-die in their world. And I had the thought- well, what if he wasn't in their world anymore? And thus came forth 1500+ words of angst~

It begins like this. Evil X is stuck in the void, alone and with no one to talk to. He misses daylight, he misses touch, he misses hearing voices other than his own. One day, he sees something get shot through the void as if by slingshot, leaving a trail of code in its wake, tethering the whatever it is back the way it came. This is Tommy, and while he begins to get adjusted to Hermitcraft and company, Evil X watches as the string of code begins to imprint itself into the void, and eventually learns that he can interact with it, albeit only on the most superficial of levels. On Tommy's end, he slowly begins to heal from his time spent in the war zone that is the Dream SMP, making fast friends with Grian and several of the other hermits in the process. He goes pranking with his newest, winged older brother figure, laughs at the antics of Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph, builds a cobblestone tower with BDubs, etc. But for all that he's healing, such a process isn't linear. No one on the server can truly understand just what sort of stuff he has been through, and so he often finds himself alone, trying to deal with his wildest emotions by talking to himself.

One day, however, a little voice in his head starts talking back. It's rough and gravelly and not very nice at first, but it's faint enough that he chalks it up to his imagination and moves on with his life. He follows Stress around like a duckling for a day, plays squire for Welsknight, and has a roaring panic attack after an unfortunate spar with False leads to him getting flashbacks to the Pit with Technoblade. He retreats back to his tower for a good cry, and in the midst of his tears, he hears the voice again. This time it's a bit nicer, sounding unsure and a bit panicky as it tries to encourage him to stop crying, god this is awkward, kid, it'll be fine. Wait, are you a kid? You seem tall for a munchkin.

This time, Tommy knows that it isn't his imagination, but half of his old server seemed to have voices in their heads so he really isn't all that alarmed that he seemed to have developed one of his own too. And he does something that no one else does when Evil X reaches out- he starts talking back. It's rough going, at first, especially since both of them have abrasive personalities, but eventually they settle into a rough estimation of friendship that means more to them then they are willing to say. From Evil X's perspective, this is the first time someone has actually listened to him and hasn't been turned away by his violent streak, his bad manners, and lack of proper social skills. For Tommy, this is a chance to vent to someone who seems to understand his pain. It helps that neither of them are inclined to ask too many questions. Tommy, on his part, has no clue that Evil X is an actual person and not a voice in his head, while Evil X can't bring himself to ask why Tommy has left a trail of code in the void and why it's all so glitched. He especially fears asking about the perma-death clause that seems to naturally have occurred in his code.

He will come to regret this choice.

The day is like any other, at first. He begins his day with a slice of sweet melon and then flies off to whatever hermits are awake at the time to "share a meal with them." Really, it started as an excuse to make sure that Tommy was eating at least one meal day, even in his most dissociative of states, but has since turned into an opportunity to eat weird things in front of people to see their reactions. (Etho is his favorite. He's always up early and half the time, asks to try a bite of whatever Tommy is having. They both agree that spider eyes taste a lot like sour boba.) From there it's off to the shopping district to restock his dirt shop and claim his share of the profits from the hole-digging service he runs with Grian. After that, there's just enough time to complete an order or two and collect more cobble and dirt before he has to meet up with Grian to go on their biweekly End Busting session. The two usually have a lot of fun as they go about it, Tommy jokingly shoving Grian off the platform only for his adopted brother to catch himself and fly up to join him on the narrow platform spanning the emptiness once again. Every once in a while, Grian mock-threatens to do the same in return, but he knows better than to actually attempt it after he did it once and had had to catch Tommy when he started screaming and even after they had gotten back to solid ground, he wouldn't stop for the better part of half an hour.

On habits die hard, after all. Tommy may have been told time and time again by everyone on the server that infinite respawns are a thing, yes really, but he still has a hard time believing it. He actually has a rather insane number of levels racked up- even more than Xisuma, which is impressive- because in all the months that he has been on Hermitcraft, he hasn't died once. It's a combination of survival skills taught to him by Philza and his own paranoia which has kept him alive for so long, and most of the hermits agree that it is rather impressive, if not entirely healthy for him to be so scared of dying. (Doc once offered to kill him as evidence that yes, it really is safe here and you will respawn, but for all that death by crazy redstone machine might of been cool, Tommy took a hard pass on that. Grian low key took exception to Doc offering to kill his adopted little brother, really man? Not cool.)

Anyway, Grian and Tommy meet up in the End and start off bridging with the insane amount of cobble that Tommy has stored up. Usually Tommy is in front, placing the stones, and Grian is in back, watching out for any sign of a slip up, but this time they decide to switch it up a bit, head in a new direction, play around with who's doing what this time. It ends... poorly. They bridge out into the black, on and on and on, farther into the void than they ever have before. Slowly, the islands of floating white stone stop appearing with such frequency, but they become larger in size and stranger in shape. Every once in a while Grian will see what he swears to be a glowing white mountain of Endstone in the distance, although Tommy calls bullshit each and every time. They chalk it all up to bad luck and going nuts from boredom, but really, neither one of them knows how to quit while they're ahead. As the islands disappear altogether and all that remains to orient themselves is the tenuous lifeline of cobblestone beneath their feet, the unthinkable happens.

Grian slips. And Tommy, taught compassion by the very world that will now kill him, reaches out to save him.

For one, brief moment, the two brothers clasp hands- and then Grian's weight pulls Tommy right over the edge and down, down, down into the void below.

Grian fell out of the world.

Tommy fell out of the world... and into a new one.

----

Xisuma wakes up late that day. He's been doing that a lot, if he's honest, given how late he's staying up most nights finishing up builds and the like. Those hours of sleep have to come from somewhere, after all, and he's far from an early bird. He gives into the impulse to relax a bit, drinking some tea sweetened with just enough honey to rot his teeth, and then heads off to his computer room to start up his duties as admin for the day. It's the red lights that alert him to something being wrong, and at first, he thinks it's just one of hermits' cam accounts being buggy again. Perhaps it got shut off while the hermit was bridging through the void and the hermit in question simply hadn't retrieved it yet? But who would name their cam account Tommyinnit? The looming dread sits cold in his gut as he flicks his fingers to open up his admin panel... Best to check, just in case.

The death messages are clear enough- Keralis had just perished to a ravager yesterday, likely Tango's from Decked Out if he had to guess. Zedaph had been slain by a piglin twenty minutes ago. And Grian and Tommy had fallen into the void. But if that were the case... why had only one of them respawned?

On Grian's part, he comes to with a lingering chill deep in his bones and an awful headache. The bed underneath him is warm and the sheets are a soft rosy color, likely one of the ones in Scar's magical village if the persistent smell of spruce is anything to go by. He winces against the light filtering through the window and turns to the side, squinting at where Tommy had placed his blue bed right next to his, apology on his lips for his stupid mistake. The sheets are undisturbed. Huh. That's weird, he could have sworn that he and Tommy had set their respawn points at the same time. Maybe Tommy had just forgotten and he was back in his base or at spawn? Grian rises to his feet slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the colors and sounds of the Overworld, then flaps his wings and takes off to go looking for his Tommy.

He doesn't find him.

---

The reactions to Tommy's "death" are many and varied, although for the most part, the hermits are split into two camps- those that think Tommy is gone for good, and those that think he may still be out there somewhere. For the first few days of Tommy's disappearance, most everyone is in the latter camp. Xisuma spends hours upon hours scanning the code, becoming increasingly more frazzled and terrified as his lack of sleep gets to him. Tango and Doc join him in the endeavor, although none of them have any luck or are able to spot the piece of code that caused the problem. No additions, no changes to the text, nothing. Grian leads the other team, those who set out on foot and one wing and with pick in hand to scour the world for their youngest charge, taken from them too soon. They begin in a grid pattern, setting out in ones and twos to search the whole world, but as the distance increases, the neat, orderly flyovers turn into frenzied boosting as panic starts to get the better of them. Some of them hold onto their composure better than others, but Grian ends up flying over the same patch of forest three times because he can't see for his tears. False, Impulse, Welsknight, and Beef cross the Nether, fighting their way into Bastion after Bastion and leaving Nether portals in their wake. In their tracks comes the fliers- Grian, Ren, Iskall, and BDubs. Each one takes a portal and does a sweep through the corresponding patch of Overworld before picking a direction to continue the search. Cubfan, iJevin, and Scar take to the seas, Mumbo, Stress, xB, and Zedaph to the End, Etho down into the depths of the caves below. Strangely enough, there are a few hermits who don't join the search- Keralis, who got the unlucky task of taking care of Xisuma and the others searching through the code, Tinfoilchef, who doesn't provide a reason but everyone gives him a pass because of his age, and Joe Hills and Zombie Cleo, who refuse to explain themselves.

Eventually, the searches dry up. Eventually, some of the hermits admit defeat. Hundreds of thousands of blocks out from spawn, down to the bedrock below, beneath sea and sky and every place that lacks the sun. How far is too far? For Xisuma, enough is enough. Tommy is dead. The search is over.

He stops looking. And soon, others do the same.

And the tone of the server... shifts.

For the first time that any of them can remember, a person has perma-died. Sure, they've all heard the rumors, of servers where infinite respawns is not the norm, of servers where the world glitched and a creeper is supercharged enough to damage a player down to their code. But they'd never thought that one of their own would be on the receiving end of such a curse. And to the hermits, the possibility of dying themselves suddenly becomes all too real. The constant flying is the first to go, and for those that insist on it anyway (outside of Grian, who has wings), checking the elytras' durability becomes more than just a habit. Eating spider eyes and other junk is out of the question, now it's golden apples or nothing. The Nether is all but abandoned, as is the End, and everyone on the server either groups up so that they are never alone, or retreats into their bases, becoming true hermits befitting of their server's name.

The joy that had once been so characteristic of the server is gone, and in the hearts of all, there lingers the dread that any one of them might be next- although, there are still those that hold on to hope that Tommy may not be as gone as he seems.

---

The hermits who think Tommy is dead for good and have stopped searching: Doc, Etho, Xisuma, Welsknight, Grian, BDubs, Cubfan, TinfoilChef, Stress, False, Iskall.

The hermits who think Tommy is still out there, alive if still missing, and that the search should continue: Keralis, Mumbo, Tango, Vintage Beef, Impulse, Zedaph, Joe Hills, Zombie Cleo, Scar, Rendog, xB.

Doc and Etho are old. They don't like to admit it, but they've been around since the beginning, back when players were first learning how to jump servers and communicator technology was undergoing its first upgrade. They've seen a lot and know well by now that dead is dead. Tommy is dead. All that is left to do is mourn and move on, and they have shed their tears already. Call them cold for it, but in the face of a kind of drive that can keep a man going after his entire server has burnt down around his ears (Mindcrack will be missed), they know they need to keep moving forward. There are enough broken messes on the server these days, and it is through their efforts that shops remain stocked and the torches don't burn out. They hold onto normalcy with an iron grip and hope that some day, the rest of the hermits will join them in rationality.

Stress too has a comparatively healthy approach to all of this. She doesn't want it to be true, god no, but so far everything is pointing in the direction of Tommy being dead for good. She eats a couple dozen bowls of ice cream, has a some good cries, doesn't leave her base for a week, and even afterwards she can't bring herself to wear pink for a while. But she's mourning. She's accepted things. She lets her heart break, and as time passes, she lets herself heal. And that's enough for her.

Scar is of the opinion that Tommy is still out there, and while he clings to that hope with all his might, it's fragile and Cub just knows that his best friend is going to be cut to pieces when that hope inevitably breaks. So he takes Scar aside for a quiet conversation, to break his heart before the world can break it for him. Afterwards, Scar stops talking about Tommy as if he's coming back, but his smile is never as bright as it was before. And Cub's heart breaks too.

Team ZIT swings the exact opposite way as the rest and are firmly of the belief that permadeath is impossible and thus Tommy must be alive. The three of them aren’t known for their impulse control at the best of times, and with so many hermits having given up, the trio is rightfully vicious about the fact that the others, in their eyes, have abandoned their friend. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango all kind of feed into one another and start doing lots of dangerous stunts, as if daring the universe to permakill them and prove them wrong. If one of them does something, the other two join in and escalate things, which gets impossibly dangerous very, very fast. Tango is furious, Impulse is bitter, and Zedaph is straight up heartbroken that his other friends would give up on another of their number. They do things like fly incredibly high, go cliff jumping in the Nether only to catch themselves at the last minute, and sprint across the End bridges. If they have doubts, they never voice them. Even when Tango feels like he’s burning up from the inside and wonders at his newfound hate. Even when Impulse is utterly terrified but goes along with things anyway because Tango is doing it and he can’t bear to leave a friend alone. Even when Zedaph looks at his friends and can’t help but feel scared of and for these strangers wearing the faces he knows so well. Even then.

Team ZIT often gets dragged into and starts lots of screaming fights with the other hermits who believe Tommy is dead, especially Doc, BDubs, xB, and False. False especially gets vicious, as while pvp is no longer permitted on the server, her tongue is as sharp as any blade. She believes firmly that the others are trampling on Tommy’s memory by insisting that he isn’t dead and she is determined to make them stop. And if they refuse to give up their foolishness? Well, all she might have left is her words but with them she will make them bleed.

xB and Vintage Beef are as close to neutral as you are going to get from those that get into regular arguments. xB thinks Tommy is dead until proven otherwise, while Beef thinks the exact reverse. As some of the more chill hermits, they often get dragged in to play negotiator so that the fights don’t turn physical. And some days, when someone says something particularly hurtful, they’ll close themselves up in one of xB’s bunkers and drink until they can no longer remember why they ought to be enemies. It’s hardly healthy, but they both agree that it’s better this way. Better to forget than to hurt, after all.

Grian is… somewhat the same. Sort of. He was traumatized by Tommy, the boy he adopted as his little brother, dying before his eyes, and he can’t help but blame himself. That is, when he can remember that Tommy is dead at all. After the fall, Grian’s mind was badly broken and he couldn’t accept that his little brother was dead for the longest time. He fell into two weeks of deep depression, barely eating or drinking, and eventually Iskall came and took care of him when he realized that he hadn’t seen his buddy in ages. Iskall nursed Grian back to health, only to feel his heart shatter in his breast when Grian turned to him, eyes feverishly bright and tone childlike, asking where Tommy was. The winged man’s mind couldn’t cope with the loss so it had shut down entirely, making him forget the tragedy that had occured. Iskall had deflected then, frantically trying to figure out what to say, but after a few days of Grian wandering about in a dreamlike state, his memory came back to him and he collapsed in on himself once more. The winged hermit is now locked in a loop of this, while poor Iskall is stuck trying to keep his friend alive and relatively sane.

Iskall, for his part, thinks Tommy is well and truly dead. In part because of his own certainty, in part because anything else would be even crueler for Grian. He doesn’t resent his friend for his break downs, just quietly bundles him up and clutches him close, coaxing him to eat and bathe, to put down the guilt and realize that it’ll be okay, the world won’t end with Tommy gone. He gently tries to nudge Grian down that path of acceptance of Tommy’s fate, and though he faces many setbacks, he tackles each one with a special kind of patience born of platonic love. They’re bros, despite everything. It’s only right.

Mumbo is, weirdly enough, on the side of Tommy being alive. Iskall doesn’t exactly approve and while he and Mumbo sometimes get into whispered arguments over it, they try to keep their little disagreements from Grian. Both of them only want to see their friend happy again, and will do just about anything to make it happen. For Mumbo, this means putting together crazy redstone contraptions to try and find Tommy again, as he’s certain that Grian’s little brother is still out there somewhere- and he has a piece that might prove it. Iskall comes over one day, face drawn and haggard from a night of soothing Grian through another set of screaming nightmares, only to find Mumbo waist high in redstone wiring, all hooked up to a strange portal design that looks too much like Doc’s infinity portal from season 6 for comfort. At the top of the arch is Tommy’s compass, needle whirling about like a hurricane, and while the portal isn’t lit, it does give off a faint blue-black glow. Iskall is frightened that Mumbo is tampering with something that could get him killed and Mumbo rushes to reassure him that no, the compass was specifically linked to Tommy so if Tommy was really dead, it would have been reset, right? He’s merely borrowing that tie to try and figure out where the two ends lead. Iskall is less than sure about this, especially since Mumbo is just as drawn and pale as he is, if a bit more covered in redstone, but they agree that fighting is pointless. They care about each other and about Grian too much to put any of them through that sort of pain- and besides, there’s more than enough fighting on the server already.

Ren too thinks that Tommy is alive and he is one of the ones who gets into regular fights. He’s a lover, not a fighter, but something about this whole situation just burns him up. When the pressure gets too much, he goes flying, tracing over those old familiar trails they searched so long ago, trying to see if there is anything they missed. There never is.

Welsknight has made his peace with Tomy’s death, though the server tends to forget that he and Tommy were closer than most. He alone knew that Tommy was once upon a time a boy called Theseus (a name given to him shyly when Tommy had asked him if there were any great heroes with that name that didn’t die). He alone knew Tommy’s love for horses, or that he would spend hours whispering horror stories to them when he thought no one would hear. Tommy was his squire, and although he had accepted the tragedy, he still wept for the hurt it brought him. He alone knew of the little grave he had dug under the willow tree in his castle courtyard and the headstone he had placed there, engraved with Tommy’s true name, death date, and supposed date of birth. He couldn’t have been more than 17, and perhaps that was what hurt the most. Every morning at dawn, Welsknight brings a bouquet of flowers to that little grave and says a prayer before disappearing into the morning fog. The flowers are always the same- forget me nots, for remembrance, violets, for devotion, and clover. (Think of me).

Tinfoilchef stays out of it- always has and always will. He’s too old to rush about searching or to feel as wildly as the others do. He feels, of course, but more so as the mountain does, steady and strong despite the winds that tear at its surface. Tommy is dead, but then, so are many of the people he has known in his life. It’s best to just keep plodding along.

BDubs is a mess. He had never spoken of it, but long before he had come to hermitcraft, he had had a daughter- a beautiful baby girl whose heart was too big for her chest, and she had died for that difference. He had grieved for years, but eventually the peace of the hermitcraft server had left him soothed, if a bit different than before. Tommy had been another chance at fatherhood, not that he could ever bear to call the teen that, even in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, he had taught the kid to build cobblestone towers that weren’t entirely offensive (if shaped a bit oddly) and had been the first to volunteer any time Grian was out and Tommy needed a place to spend the night when the nightmares were particularly fierce. They had so many fun sleepovers like that, and staring at those awful cobble towers in the distance, BDubs can’t help but bawl his eyes out at the memories. He waffles between taking the towers down or leaving them up- they really are ugly, and the feelings in his chest that they inspire are even more so, but somehow, he can’t bear to see them gone. Instead, he dries his eyes, flies off to grab a shulker of cobble, and sets about adding a few more to their number. A final remembrance for the boy he would have gladly claimed as his own, if only he hadn’t been too late. (He ends up building a lot more than a few).

Joe and Cleo are somehow the only ones who are actually neutral in the whole mess. Whenever they are asked their opinion on if Tommy is truly dead or not, the pair simply smile mysteriously and refuse to comment. Joe always seems to know more than he lets on and Cleo is his closest confidant, after all. Despite the anger and tears directed their way for refusing to commit to either side, the two keep their silence. (They know the truth of the matter, after all. Everything will be okay in time).

Xisuma has given up. Tommy is dead, and there is nothing he can do but spend days and days going over the code with a fine tooth comb, trying to find the glitch that cut the life of their youngest member short. Keralis takes it upon himself to take care of his long time friend, but it’s not an easy task, not when the other is so determined to make sure that such an incident never happens again. And Keralis can’t find it in himself to complain, especially since he is laboring under the impression that Xisuma agrees that Tommy is still out there and is trying to find him. It is only when Keralis mentions it in an aside, thanking the admin for his dedication, that Xisuma breaks the illusion and explains. Tommy isn’t just dead, he says tiredly, his very presence is well and truly wiped from the world’s code. All that is left of him is the faint impression his code had left behind, and trying to read it and understand what went wrong is a bit like trying to read small letters that have been drawn out in dry sand. Even for a voidwalker like himself such a task is near impossible, and Xisuma can only do so much. The needs of the many above the needs of the few- best to secure those he can now than worry over those that are gone beyond his reach. And Keralis can’t help but look at his friend with new eyes, a fleeting sense of betrayal in his heart. He had thought better of his Shishwammy, and he says as much.

He cries while Xisuma watches on in solemn, mournful silence.

---

TBC :)

#hermitcraft #minecraft #fanfiction #dream smp #hermit tommy au #angst #My writing #i'm proud of this one

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kirishimaswife2819 · 3 years

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Them Playing Minecraft Survival With Their S/o || Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Kaminari

Masterlist

Pairings: Izuku Midoriya x Reader, Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, Eijiro Kirishima x Reader, Shoto Todoroki x Reader, and Denki Kaminari x Reader

Summary: What it’s like playing Minecraft survival with the boys

Word Count: 1.4k

A/n: So, I do this weird thing where I’m obsessed with Minecraft for like a week, and don’t stop playing it, then I forget it exists for like anywhere from 1-3 months, then remember it exists and the cycle just goes on like that. And I remembered Minecraft existed earlier today, and I decided to write this. Anyway, I’ll try to get some requests uploaded tomorrow, but I’ll have to see if I’m in the mood to write them or not. Anyway, I hope you all have a great day/night! -Danielle <3

Izuku Midoriya:

He’s very peaceful when he’s playing Minecraft

He’s not in any rush to get to the end and spends a fair amount of time working on building farms for various animals and food

When you guys play together, you do pretty much everything together and don’t leave each other’s sides for the whole game

You guys also share all your resources, and split the stuff up evenly between the two of you

When y’all go caving, you each might split up for a few minutes to go into different parts of the cave and find different things, but he’d rather not stay apart for too much longer

He’s literally so calm and doesn’t generally get too mad when he dies

It’s literally impossible for him to not tame any pet he finds, you probably have a countless amount of dogs, cats, and birds, yet every time he sees an untamed one, he’ll be like, “Hey, Y/n. Do you have any bones/fish/seeds?”

“Izuku, you have like fifty at home. No.”

If you refuse to give him some then he goes out and finds it on his own and comes back for the animal, so there’s no escaping it

He’s not really focused on beating the Ender Dragon, he only really remembers that’s what he supposed to be doing when he gets bored

It probably takes y’all like nine months til you finally get around to beating the Ender Dragon, and you play for like four hours every two days or so, since you have school work to focus on as well

Katsuki Bakugou:

Warning, he blows your shit up when he gets bored, so make sure he doesn’t get bored while your playing together

He’ll share a house with you and the same storage area, but what he finds is his and what you find is yours, unless you both agree to share it

He focuses on actually beating the game, for the most part, but occasionally he likes fucking around and doing random stuff

Katsuki sucks at building, since he’s more focused on the actual game than making anything look nice (he also can’t build to save his life, but if you asked why he’s so bad at it, he would use the excuse that I just mentioned)

Doesn’t waste his time on taming animals, except for wolves

He gets two wolves, breeds them, and then makes an entire army

If you piss him off bad enough, he will not hesitate to make them all stand, before hitting you, so that they all attack you

He doesn’t play too often, since “school work is more important”, but you probably play, at the minimum, once a week, but most of the time you play twice a week

You would probably end up beating the game, after a few months, but it honestly depends on how often Katsuki decides to blow up your stuff, or just blow up stuff in general

Eijiro Kirishima:

He likes to try and build and make your world look nice, but he really sucks at it, but don’t tell him that or he might get upset. You called something he built ‘weird’ once and he took it personally, and didn’t want to play the game anymore

He’s always sort of got the goal of beating the Ender Dragon in the back of his mind, but he mostly just focuses on building and having a good time

He only has about one, at most two, of each pet, but he gets emotionally attached to them and if one of them dies, he will probably cry, and he also insists on hosting a whole funeral and building a grave for it (honestly, I would do that too, so I can’t blame him)

He also will give you all of his resources, without you asking, and you’ll be like, “Kiri, why don’t you have any armor” and he’s like, “Oh, I gave you all my iron. It’s fine though! Don’t give it back, I can live without armor!”

Then y’all get an aggressive war of passing back the iron between the two of you, until you get sick of it and just take the iron (but you sneak on his phone/computer after he goes to do something and you make him armor and put it on him)

This man protects you with his life, like you’ll be fighting like one skeleton and he’ll be all dramatic and try to protect you

It’ll probably take like a year or longer to beat the game when you’re playing with Kirishima, because he likes to, not necessarily mess around, but he likes to waste time on building useless stuff and playing with your animals and all of that

You two play almost every day for at least an hour, unless you have the day off, then you play longer

He really enjoys playing with you while your cuddling, and it’s one of his favorite things to do

Shoto Todoroki:

He had never played Minecraft but then he saw Kaminari playing it and asked him what he was doing, and then after Kaminari explained the game to him, he went to you and asked you if you’ve played it before and if it was fun

He has no idea what he’s doing, so he follows you around the whole time, as you try to teach him how to play the game

You’re going to have to teach him literally how to do everything, even if it’s simple, he lacks common sense when it comes to these kinds of games

He is the most gullible person too, like if you tell him a certain something about the game, that very obviously isn’t true, he will believe you

Once he gets a hang of the game, he still chooses to follow you around, and if he doesn’t he’ll ask you what you want him to do while you’re off doing something

He doesn’t tame any animals, because he doesn’t really see the point in it

You always have to tell him what he should do, if you don’t then he’ll sit there and just wait for you to tell him to do something

Shoto actually has a lot of fun playing the game, since he’s never played any video games before and as much as he just sits around doing nothing except staring at your screen and waiting for you to tell him what to do, he still manages to have a good time

How long it takes you to beat the game, is solely based on on your pace and your pace alone, since Shoto will just go along with whatever your doing

You two don’t play often, just whenever you two get bored and want to play something together

Denki Kaminari:

Depending on the day, he’s either really focused on actually playing the game, or he’s fucking around the whole entire time

Most of the time it’s the latter though

This man made an entire army of chickens and a very poorly built castle for them as well

He doesn’t tame too many animals, maybe a few of each, but that’s about it

He’s not a big fan of building, unless it’s to do something stupid with the building (e.g. the castle for the chickens)

Freaks out at the sight of any monsters, even though he has no problem killing them

Denki has a tendency to rage when he dies, but it’s never too bad

You guys share all of your resources, and if you try to not share with him, he will bug you until you do (he’s totally willing to share his with you too, though)

He thinks its funny to hide the item you’re looking for in a chest (if it’s like string or something that’s common and easy to get), so you’ll go out and get some, only to come back and find the item you were looking for in the same chest you were looking in before

Plays Minecraft at least two hours a day, but most of the time longer than that

Sometimes he even tries to sneak and play it during class, but the teacher always catches him within like two minutes because he talks to himself when he plays

If I’m being completely honest with you, you and Denki probably never make it to the end of the game because you’re too busy messing around, but both of you are perfectly fine with that

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

1K notes · View notes

shoichee · 3 years

Note

Hey luv! I just got my braces off and I don’t know if I like myself with or without them cause yah girl has ✨confidence issues✨ so can you do the GoM + Kagami and Teppei thanks my savior

OH, rn i have braces too (although they’re ceramic and harder to see) but I definitely can understand the apprehension when you have them taken off after for so long;;

the amount of characters requested actually exceed the rules, but since i’ve taken a while to get to your request, i’ll still do them but they will be shorter^^ THANK YOU FOR STICKING BY THIS BLOG AND READING MY STUFF <3

[Headcanons]

Kuroko Tetsuya

right away, he notices that something was amiss with you, and asks upfront if anything was bothering you

you replied hesitantly, but while you talked you held up a hand in front of your mouth:

“Um… I don’t know if I like how I look right now…”

Kuroko stares at your nervous eyes and then looks down to your hand in front of your mouth before asking why

“Just got my braces off, and I feel a bit… weird without them? I feel like I look strange without them…”

“Do you mind if I see you?” he asks, softening his eyes at you

“W-Well… you’re not someone to judge, I know, but don’t… laugh or anything.”

“I won’t, (y/n)-san.”

he slowly brings your hand down and you slowly smile to reveal your teeth to him, and he gives you the purest smile… and that catches you off guard so badly like… YOUR TEETH GOT HIM TO SMILE LIKE THAT??? DAMN, MAYBE YOU SHOULD SMILE EVERY SECOND TO SEE SUCH A TREASURE—

“(y/n)-san, I think you look wonderful,” he muses, bringing your same hand that was in front of your mouth into his own hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure everyone who sees you will think the same.”

ah Kuroko, the individual who has a knack in comforting people with his genuity (example: see Momoi)

whenever you do have those moments of self-consciousness again, he’s always there to calmly reassure you otherwise

Kise Ryouta

IMMEDIATELY sees your teeth when you talk, and freaks out like a little kid on Christmas

“(y/n)-cchi! (y/n)-cchi!!” he hoots around, pointing at his own teeth. “You got your braces off today! You look amazing!”

when you hesitate and tell him that you’re not so sure about yourself without your braces, he pinches your cheek and gives a little dramatic huff

“But (y/n)-cchi…! Come onnnn, trust me!” he says, giving a signature pout, and you laugh at his antics

“Ohhh, do that again! Do that again!” (he craves for your laughs, and he wants more)

he definitely tries to get you to smile and laugh to get you more comfortable with your braceless teeth

whether you have braces or not, he doesn’t mind so much because what he really cares about is your smile, and if he sees your teeth showing, braces or without, it means that he knows he’s doing a good job in making you comfortable and happy

while he showers you in praises every single moment, when you feel really down, he takes an extra measure or two to cuddle you gently while being much softer in delivering those compliments

always gives a daily compliment to give you a serotonin boost

Midorima Shintarou

he’s confused… why would you be upset that you got your braces off? you looked great before and even now, so does the fact of braces really change your perception of your appearance that much?

he won’t make any comment on your new appearance unless you bring it up to him and ask for his opinion/reassurance

he’s just happy for you that you have another milestone of your life, and not to mention, braces generally promote better oral health and fix misaligned bites

“Hm? What do I think of how you look? D-Don’t be ridiculous… What am I supposed to say?”

“Well, I just… think I look a little odd… I kind of… want my braces back.”

“You know you can’t do that, nanodayo,” he sighs. “So much money, effort, and care were invested into your teeth for many years. You did the most you could to take care of them and achieved the goal you set out for yourself when you first got braces, correct? That isn’t something to be ashamed of, nanodayo.”

despite his lecturing, his words do have some merit, and Midorima’s words were comforting in his own way

“But Midorima, um… sorry for annoying you,” you say, giving a chagrined smile

Midorima takes a good look at your exposed teeth for the first time and widens his eyes in a fluster before turning his eyes back to his astrology book

“I-I-It’s nothing.”

bonus: he’s definitely that one fussy parent who forces you to wear your retainers religiously, NO EXCUSES—he doesn’t want the whole process to be all for naught just because you got lazy in wearing a simple metal thing

Aomine Daiki

idiot #1

“Whoa, your teeth look different,” is something he would say tactlessly

immediately, you slapped your hands over your mouth at his words

forgive him, he usually says what’s on his mind with no filter and consideration

by then, he’d realized that the tone of his words was poorly delivered and would try to correct himself before he says anything more to dig himself a deeper grave

“Er, sorry, what I mean is… I didn’t know you were gonna have them off today…”

that actually made you more self-conscious and you try to flee from the scene

“W-Wait, hey!”

insert Aomine clumsily explaining that he didn’t mean to be tactless with his words and that he just meant that he was surprised in a good way

definitely shows you a lot more wholesome affection in addition to his usual PDA, but you wonder what he thought about your new “appearance,” so to speak

“What kinda question is that?” he scoffs. “You’re still hot and always will be.”

if there’s one sure benefit to his blunt words, it’s that his straightforwardness can easily dispel all your doubts and clear up any misunderstandings in one go

if you’re still doubtful about yourself, he’ll gladly resort to action to prove his point… perhaps makeout sessions with him would become a lot more exploratory and… just putting it out there, but we will leave this up to your imagination

anywho, he’s not afraid to give you more direct kisses to try to show you that he doesn’t care about your teeth and your lack of braces

definitely would tell out-of-pocket jokes and laugh more to get you to grow comfortable; after all, smiling is contagious right? who can resist Aomine’s smile???

if someone tried to make you uncomfortable by drawing everyone’s attention nearby in how you got your braces off, whether intentional or not, he’s scaring them away, no questions asked and he’s taking you away from the scene

Murasakibara Atsushi

“Oh…” he says with his usual drawl. “You got them off, Chibi-chin?”

it was a usual day with him tucking his own head into his arms to nap on the table when you walked up to him apprehensively, and he immediately notices your presence but lazily picks up his head to look at you when he noticed

“Er… yeah…”

he slightly tilts his head to the side like an inquisitive child to silently question what was wrong

“It’s nothing really! Just feeling tired… not in the talkative mood today.” as you said this, he noticed that you were more… tight-lipped, speaking in a quieter manner as if you were trying not to show your teeth as much as possible

he beckons a languid hand over and you reluctantly sit by his side, your face still slightly turned away

you thought he was just going to go back to sleep like he always does, but imagine your surprise when he easily picks you up from the side and placed you on his lap, face-to-face

Murasakibara then pulls your cheeks apart, revealing your pearly whites to him

“H-H-Hey!! Lert… gorw!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I’m… serwious!”

he stares at you impassively for a few moments before he suddenly lets your cheeks go and yawns

“... you look fine, Chibi-chin,” he mumbles, and he sets you off his lap before getting up with a stretch. “Besides, now that you don’t have braces anymore, you can finally eat whatever you want right…?”

“I… guess I can…”

and he’s already reaching for your hand to tug you to the nearest takeout with a slight shine of excitement in his dark pupils

“Chibi-chin, we can finally eat those candy apples together you’ve always craved for, lots and lots…”

he’s very fixated on you eating with your braceless teeth for the next few weeks with a small smile on his face, because you enjoying the food you eat are some of the simplest joys he loves when he’s with you (and you hadn’t been able to do that because your braces forbidden you from eating a list of things)

definitely drags you out for food outings a lot more for the next few weeks

he tries his best in trying to make you not think about your teeth and your self-consciousness about them in his roundabout way (note: see his cheek pulling, distracting you with your favorite snacks, etc.)

he’s not someone to make any deal out of it because worrying over such a trivial thing is annoying to him, but nonetheless he certainly wants to make sure that nothing is bothering you because that’s the greatest inconvenience (since he doesn’t like to see you in such a state)… you being upset and worried makes him upset and worried, after all

Akashi Seijuro

he immediately understands that feeling of self-doubt/self-consciousness, but nonetheless he compliments you to let you know that he truly finds you desirable/beautiful inside and out

still, words alone sometimes don’t convince you and even when he gives physical affection to comfort you, there’s still that nagging feeling of how you felt about your teeth

and he’s totally okay with that, and he knows that feeling very well himself (regarding having inner voices that taunt him)

rather than constantly hammering in compliments because he knows that at some point they’d feel more disingenuous the more he says them, he offers you to help overcome the self-consciousness on your own terms

Akashi offers the suggestion of wearing face masks (not necessarily the surgical ones, but the cute/plain colored masks you’d see around!) if you have certain days where you feel low about your braceless teeth

he’d be quite sly and teasing all the while; whenever you wear your cute mask for the day, he’d be a lot more affectionate with the PDA and give pecks on your lips… but the mask is always in the way, preventing you from feeling actual contact with his own lips

he can tell you’d definitely get pouty when you don’t really feel those kisses and he simply laughs and walks on

“You…! I know you only try to kiss me when I have the mask on! Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Hm? Is it really a crime for me to show physical affection to the person I love?”

he eventually does help you coax you out and become comfortable, and your face masks would eventually be stored away in a drawer

he rewards you for being strong in overcoming your own doubts:

“To celebrate your strength in overcoming a huge milestone, what would you like your reward to be?”

“For starters, give me back all those kisses you tried to give me throughout all the times I wore a mask!”

“Of course,” he chuckles, moving closer to your lips. “How could I ever resist you when you’re this stunning?”

Kagami Taiga

idiot #2 (see idiot #1)

unlike idiot #1, idiot #2 doesn’t notice the change on your teeth, at all

he doesn’t know why you’re fidgeting around or acting really, really strange… were you hungry? upset at him for something he didn’t realize he did wrong?

so after a few days after you got your braces off, he finally asks:

“Is there something wrong? Did I do something to upset you?”

poor guy doesn’t know if he was at fault or if he was missing something, and he physically holds his head to try to recall EVERYTHING for the past week

you reassure him that it wasn’t anything like that, but you still had furrowed brows and you were very careful in how you were talking

Kagami thinks you haven’t eaten and offers to make dinner, but eating in front of him for some reason really didn’t sound like a good idea to you so you declined

you’ll eventually tell him that you just felt a bit self-conscious after your braces got taken off

“Huh?”

he stares at your teeth for a very long time, and you immediately regret it, not wanting to draw his attention to you like that

he snaps out of his intense daze and immediately apologizes for making you uncomfortable

“M-My bad… I just didn’t notice until you told me.”

“Really?” you ask, slightly relieved that the change wasn’t as drastic as you thought it would be

“Er, yeah…” he mumbles, scratching his cheek, “you look good, by the way…” but by the time he finished his compliment, it came out as a cough

you can only laugh in relief, knowing that everything he says is always earnest and sincere

Kiyoshi Teppei

definitely noticed that your braces were off, but pretends to not notice until you bring it up yourself because he’s quite sharp and in tune with other people’s emotions

so he treats you like he always does, being the sweet “airhead” that he is, and he waits until you bring it up yourself (because he knows how self-conscious you were about your lack of braces)

you yourself are confused… like… was Teppei actually dense? was your whole inner dilemma not a big deal like your mind thought it would be?

you tug on his sleeve one day and ask him if he noticed your teeth, pointing to them all the while

and he immediately chastises himself (“silly me”) for not noticing, and he tells you that you were beautiful either way, and whether you had braces or not didn’t change that inherent fact (and that was his “reason” for not noticing to reassure you)

all while giving his easy going chuckles and ruffling your hair

laughs at your shyness at his words, not because it’s funny or anything but he truly finds you adorable

once you get comfortable without giving a second thought about your braces gone, he just drops the truth bomb on you so casually like:

“Ahhhh (y/n)-san,” he sighs in nostalgia. “You were really cute when you were so shy about getting them off, you know that?”

“Now wait a second…”

“Hm?”

“What did you say?”

“That you’re really cute.”

“No, no, the other part.”

“Whenever you get shy.”

“That is not what I mean and you know that—”

“Aww, you’re being really cute right now, (y/n)-san. Don’t tempt me to carry you around when I just finished with my physical therapy.”

344 notes · View notes

ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

richboy!yeosang (part 2)

word count: 5k

fluff, smut (tw: mentions of abortion)

(part 1) (miniseries masterlist)

“did you just puke again?”

you look up at yunho from your spot on the couch, bags under your extremely unamused eyes as you nod your head lazily.

you warned him not to come over in the first place today, that you didn’t wanna get him or mingi sick since you’ve spent the past few days still vomiting and feeling like shit.

but he insisted, not wanting you to spend the day alone and cooking for yourself when you didn’t feel your best.

yeosang had stayed home with you for two days but had to get back to his classes, you all but forcing him out of bed in the early morning hours this week.

“yes,” you whine, a pout on your face as he smooths down your messy hair. “which is why you shouldn’t be here!”

he only rolls his eyes as he fixes the blanket over you, claiming he’s immune to all illness before tucking you in like a child and going off to the kitchen to check on the soup he’s making.

you let out a sigh as you hear yunho humming softly, sprawling out on the couch and stretching your aching bones. you thought for sure you had some sort of stomach flu, a slight fever and vomiting along with just pain all over.

but it’s been almost a full week now of waking up and feeling like this, irritation starting to settle in because it feels like you’re never gonna get better.

it makes it even more frustrating that, in the mid-afternoon and nighttime, it seems as if you’re getting better, just for everything to start all over again.

“that’s odd,” yunho hums softly when you tell him that, carrying your bowl of soup and a package of crackers that makes you hold back a smile.

he side-eyes you when he sees your lips twitching, flicking your head gently and gesturing at the food he just cooked for you.

“have you gone to the doctor?”

“you know they freak me out,” you mutter, slurping the soup and humming when the warm broth hits your tongue; if there’s one thing you learned about yunho over these college years, it’s that he’s a great cook.

“this is good.”

“thanks,” he smiles softly, watching closely as you slurp down the broth.

this is a meal he makes for mingi every time the boy isn’t feeling well and, while he knows his boyfriend is secretly wimpier than you, he always looks more...sickly.

pale and sleepy and barely able to lift the spoon into his mouth; but then again, it could be his fiancé being a baby and wanting to be doted on.

“that made me feel better,” you smile happily, getting up from the couch slowly to wash your bowl and spoon before yunho can.

the boy notices and narrows his eyes, following you into the kitchen quickly and leaning against the counter.

“you know, it’s weird that it’s only in the morning,” yunho says inquisitively, “and that yeosang didn’t get it in that first twenty four hours.”

“i know, right, i was thinking the same thing,” you admit, dapping the sponge with dish soap as you clean out your dishes.

“maybe it’s some kind of, like, food poisoning? me and yeosang got that sushi place a few nights before this all-”

your apartment door opening causes you to peek out into the hallway, a tall and annoyed mingi making his way to you; the boy seems even more disappointed when he smells the familiar scent of yunho’s soup.

“did you save some for me?”

“are you sick?” yunho asks, smiling softly when mingi pokes him in the arm. “what happened? why do you look so annoyed?”

“because halloween isn’t for another week and people are already coming into the bars dressed up and shit. if i had to serve one more person covered in a poorly cut white sheet, i was gonna scream.”

you and yunho side eye each other with a smirk, one of mingi’s many complaints about being a part-time bartender the amount of sociable people. but the job works for him despite his less than amused attitude, his withdrawn, mysterious personality and handsome face responsible for his hefty tips.

“what are you guys gonna be? pirates again?” you ask, a wide cheeky grin on your face; for the past three halloweens, they haven’t strayed from their favorite costumes.

“pirates again,” mingi mocks immaturely, his head turning toward you before he does a double take. his hand on your face causes you to stop washing your spoon, eyebrows pulled together as you look at him in confusion.

“what?”

“you look weird,” mingi says bluntly, turning your face side to side. your mouth drops open as yunho smacks him in the arm, coming to your defense and saying that you’ve been sick for the past few days.

“yeah, you asshole! i’ve been puking my guts out all morning, excuse me for not looking my best.”

“even more reason for you to go to the doctor,” yunho chimes in quietly, the icy look you throw his way causing him to smile sweetly.

“but i start to feel fine by the afternoons,” you whine, pulling your face out of mingi’s grasp belligerently. “i have a feeling they won’t even help me.”

“you still have to go, babe,” yunho says softly, running his hand through your hair gently. “that doesn’t sound normal. especially since it’s almost been an entire week.”

you let a sigh as you turn off the sink, wiping your hands on your pants before promptly (and immaturely) stomping back to the couch. it’s in your pursuit to throw yourself back down on the cushions that mingi grabs you before you can, gazing down at you with a wide-eyed expression.

“what?” you whine again, the slightest hint of exasperation in your tone; he’s starting to freak you out.

“has yeosang gotten sick?”

you shake your head.

“and it’s only in the morning?”

a confused nod.

“and you’re just nauseous and puking?

another confused nod, about to ask him what the hell he’s on about before his next question causes your stomach to drop.

“is your period late?”

the question makes you still and you’re faintly aware of yunho’s choked gasp in the background, thinking back to the last time you had your period.

you wrack your brain for the answer but can’t quite remember, pushing down the panic that’s threatening to rise as you start to piece things together.

your skin’s been clear, you haven’t had cramps, your boobs don’t hurt... but even so, that wouldn’t be possible, right?

you’ve been on birth control since high school. there’s no way that’s why your period is late, school just started up and work is stressful.

you’ve been stressed since summer ended, not used to the new routine of life.

there’s no way that the 99.9% effectiveness rate is gonna fail you out of everyone in the world. especially when you’re pretty good about taking it, when you take it everyday around the same-

“holy fuck. it’s late, isn’t it?”

“mingi, shut up! she looks like she’s about to puke again.”

you don’t even realize that you’re panicking until you look up at them and see them watching you carefully, yunho soft and sympathetic while mingi is shocked and almost disturbed.

“i-it’s because i’m stressed,” you say, voice sounding like you’re on the brink of a mental breakdown; the denial and hope is all too evident.

“i have a lot more assignments now for school and work’s been crazy. i’m just stressed and i’m... i can’t be-”

“the pill isn’t always effective, y/n...” yunho says gently, his voice soothing and sweet but doing nothing to calm you.

“yes it is,” you squeak, your eyes wide and hands shaking as you watch the two giant boys looking down at you. “i-it’s 99.9%...”

“they say it’s probably only 91% effective...” mingi says, yunho letting out a scoff as he drags mingi back against his body.

“you’re not helping at all,” he growls lowly in his fiancé’s ear, the dark-haired boy turning around and looking over his face.

“she has morning sickness, yunho, how could this not be-”

“it’s not morning sickness! i can’t be pregnant!”

the thought didn’t even cross your mind, not in the slightest. why would it? you’ve been safe and careful and actively trying to prevent this.

“y/n, it’s okay,” yunho says, making his way over to you slowly.

your heart starts to pound and tears are threatening to burn the back of your eyes, shaking your head frantically as you look between the two boys.

“why is it late? i didn’t- i didn’t even notice. or think about that. oh, my god.”

you throw your head in your hands and yunho’s quick to plop down beside you, putting his arm around you gently before pulling you into him.

he breathes quiet reassurances into your ear for a few silent moments, his scent clean and nice and you try to focus on it surrounding your nose and calming you.

but it does nothing of the sort.

because yeosang’s scent is always the thing to calm you, sweet and familiar and reminiscent of your home that’s mixed with whatever festive candle is burning at the time.

but what would yeosang think about this current situation, knowing that you’re really entertaining the idea that you might be pregnant with his child?

“what would yeosang say?” you blurt out, your head snapping to see mingi now a few feet away from you.

you’re suddenly consumed by how fucking eerie this all is, just a little over a month ago talking with yeosang about your future kids. but he had made it clear it was far into the future, the same way you did.

you never ever thought the future would be only weeks later.

“he said he wanted kids in the future. but the future future! we even said you guys would have kids before us and would need a lot of practice! holyfuck, no. i can’t be pregnant, i can’t be-”

“y/n.”

mingi’s knelt between your legs before you can pass out from lack of air, his face relaxed and eyes looking up at you softly. you swallow the lump in your throat as he exaggerates his breathing, in and out, as he rests his hands on your knees.

“mingi, i can’t. what if i’m actually-”

“stop.”

his voice is deep and gruff as he shakes his head, ignoring yunho’s gaze piercing into his face. your eyes start to well up with tears the more he looks at you, the sympathy in his gaze making you even more uneasy.

“mingi,” you whine but he only shakes his head again, squeezing your knee as he begins to talk.

“we’ll go get a test, okay? all three of us. together.”

“and what if it’s-”

“we’ll deal with whatever result when it happens. but for now, we gotta figure it out first.”

mingi can see the fear behind your eyes so he rubs his hand over your knee soothingly, eventually helping you up and out of the house with yunho.

there’s a slightly tense silence as you guys walk down the block to the nearest pharmacy, trapped between the two boys who bump your arms and occasionally graze your hand affectionately.

you looked over the tests in a daze, your shaky hand reaching to pick out a pack of five as you tried to brace yourself for whatever the result was gonna be.

“i can’t do it.”

“you have to, y/n. how else are we gonna know?” mingi asks you through the door an hour later, the white stick in your hand as you try to force yourself to pee on it.

it’s one thing to pee in a cup at the doctor to make sure all is well but doing it to find out if your life is about to change forever? that’s a lot more daunting to do, let alone on five of them.

“just do one first, then we can go from there,” yunho says gently, his kind, soft-spoken voice not even helping you at this point.

“i can’t!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes as the white test wobbles in your hand.

“you gotta try, babe,” yunho says softly, mingi biting his tongue as he resists the urge to stomp in there and demand to help; his fiancé must know it too, if the chastising look he throws his way tells him anything.

“she’s scared, mingi,” yunho mumbles softly, squeezing his fiance’s arm affectionately.

it’s one of the many, subtle ways he’s learned to calm mingi down over the years, whether it be when the boy is an anxious fit or ready to bite someone’s head off.

“i know she is but she could not be pregnant,” the tall boy rationalizes, placing his hand atop yunho’s absentmindedly. “so she’s just freaking herself out for nothing.”

“you’d freak out too if you thought you were pregnant.”

“okay, well no shit,” mingi deadpans, a laugh bubbling from yunho that has a smile lighting up the usual grouchy boy’s face.

“why are you guys laughing!” you yelp, whipping open the door to reveal yourself with tears brimming in your eyes. “this is no laughing matter!”

“can you just piss already?” mingi asks snippily, yunho pinching his arm and mumbling for him to get you some water before looking at you encouragingly.

his hands cup your face gently, eyes soft and sympathetic as he looks you over.

“i know you’re scared, y/n, but the quicker you can go, the quicker you’ll have the results and know for sure.”

“yunho, if i’m pregnant, what am i gonna-”

“then you’re pregnant and we’ll figure out what to do next,” he says with finality, his thumbs stroking over your cheek gently. “but you could also not be pregnant and just be stressed with everything, like you said. we won’t know until you pee.”

you let out a noise between a huff and a laugh, looking at him with a frown before taking a deep breath and braving the bathroom once again.

it takes you a few moments, getting the urge to urinate as you place the stick between your legs but eventually, you have it in the sink and you’re gripping the counter tightly.

never ever did you think in a million years you’d be in this situation during your junior year of college, hunched over a sink in your ritzy, city apartment waiting for the results of a pregnancy test.

you have to imagine yeosang never pictured this either, the kids he planned to have in his adult years way after college coming to him nearly 10 years early.

tears burn your eyes as you picture telling him, lucky to not have the financial burden of raising a child but instead...everything else. the way one’s life and relationships and mindsets truly change after becoming a parent.

using the word parent to describe you and yeosang doesn’t even sound right.

how are you supposed to do this? tell him and think it over and make decisions about this when most days, you two can’t even decide what you wanna eat.

you both still have so much left to do with your young adult lives, finishing school and getting jobs and maybe traveling to the top ten countries you guys decided one night at two a.m.

could you do all of it with a baby? could you guys survive it at all? is this something yeosang would even consider despite being-

“y/n? did you do it?” yunho’s soft voice calls, the eerie silence within the bathroom making the two giant boys panic right outside.

they get their answer when you open the door and stare at them with a terrified expression, wide eyes and a wobbling lip that immediately causes mingi to pull you into him.

you crumble against him as you bury your face in his broad chest, only slightly aware of yunho petting the top of your head calmingly.

the apartment is silent despite the honks and bustle of the city outside, all three of you breathing slowly and calmly as you inhale the smell of mingi and yunho’s combined scents; you think it has something to do with them sharing clothes more often than not.

the silence is broken when you three hear a beep from a few feet away, your head snapping up and back toward the bathroom as mingi mumbles a low “shit.”

yunho sneers at him before walking over to you, giving you a knowing look as tears well up in your eyes.

“it’s okay,” the dark haired boy promises, firmly believing that no matter what the result is, it’ll all eventually be okay.

“you look first,” you beg, voice barely above a whisper.

you can’t bring yourself to look at it yet, knowing that there’s a 50% chance your life is about to drastically change.

you need the last few moments of pure panic before you either become so relieved and overwhelmed with gratitude or start to panic 100 times more.

“are you sure?” yunho asks apprehensively, now feeling a bit of fear pull in his own gut.

“positive,” you say, your face falling just as mingi snorts, “it might be.”

“mingi,” yunho mumbles warningly just as you snap your head in his direction.

the death glare you send his way nearly makes him smile, if the mood wasn’t so tense and yunho wasn’t glaring at him and you weren’t four seconds away from finding out if a fetus is about to start growing inside you.

“please look before i start to puke again.”

yunho looks over your face one more time before letting out a sigh, walking into the bathroom and looking down at the white stick in the sink.

he feels his heart drop into his stomach immediately, tightening his hold on the marble countertop as he swallows. mingi notices the way his adams apple bobs and feels his own eyes widening, squeezing past you as you watch the scene unfold in front of you.

mingi places his hand on yunho’s arm as he peers over the boy’s shoulder, a gasp leaving his mouth that immediately causes tears to spring to your eyes.

and it’s when your best friend looks at you with a flood of different emotions swirling in his eyes, you already know what the result is.

the same result as the other four tests you took afterward, a total of five positive pregnancy tests right there in your bathroom sink.

you’re not sure how long you cried into your hands as you slumped onto the couch, sobs wracking your body and shaking as you tried to come to terms with it.

because the prospect of your life changing wasn’t the only scary thing, yeosang’s reaction and your parents wasn’t the only scary thing; the journey of the pregnancy itself was fucking terrifying.

watching and feeling your body change and going through an ordeal every woman describes as something so incredibly painful. you’d already been puking and having body ache thus far, and you know things are only gonna get worse.

even after your cries eventually stop, your face red and eyes sore and nose full of wet snot, the boys next to you are still silent. you almost think they expected the results to be negative, not to go back and check again and again and again for the two tiny pink lines displayed on the screen.

“i’m scared.”

it’s the first thing you say to break the silence after god knows how long, mingi looking to you just as yunho reaches out and holds your hand in his. they were lost in their own little world too, wondering how you’re gonna handle going through this and what yeosang’s response will be.

they know he loves you and will be by your side no matter what but it’s still a hard situation to grasp. being young and scared and faced with the challenges an accidental pregnancy creates.

“what are you gonna do?” mingi asks softly; you know the situation has gotta be bad, because you don’t know if you’ve ever heard his voice this sweet talking to anyone besides yunho.

“i don’t know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as the last remaining tears burn the back of your eyes. “i just...i don’t know. i’m so fucking scared.”

“well do you wanna...keep it?” mingi asks, yunho’s head snapping to the side as he looks at him. “you have options, you know.”

"i know,” you tell him softly, licking over your lips nervously; you never thought in a million years this would be a predicament you were in. “i don’t know if i could do that. i’m scared... but that seems scarier to me. and i still have to tell yeosang.”

the two boys don’t comment as you sit there with your thoughts, your leg starting to bounce nervously as you think about telling yeosang this news; this kind of announcement should be happy and joyful and exciting, you feel bad by the sheer terror pulsing in your veins.

“i have to tell yeosang,” you repeat, yunho and mingi looking you over as you start to think aloud. “what is he gonna say? what if he gets mad?”

“he’s the one who did it, how the fuck is he gonna get mad?” mingi growls, the semi-like, hate relationship with the boy coming out; he doesn’t think yeosang will react like that but he knows if he does, he’ll for sure crack his head open the way he intended to in the library back in high school.

“he’s not gonna be mad,” yunho assures, side eyeing mingi before he places a hand on your shoulder. “he’s probably gonna be just as scared as you.”

and you think if yeosang came home later that night in a good mood, you would’ve seen that yunho was right.

but the second your boyfriend got in the door, you knew he wasn’t okay. his face was pale and sunken and he looked utterly defeated, hair messy from the downpour of rain and just an overall look of exhaustion over him.

“work is driving me fucking insane, babe, it’s like they don’t know i’m still in school,” he tells you over dinner, his fork viciously stabbing into a piece of chicken.

“i have a hundred different things to do and they’re being assholes because i asked for one fucking extension. i’m just about ready to tell them to go fuck themsel- are you okay?”

he looked up from his food to see you staring down at your plate of noodles, completely untouched as your eyes train blankly on the white take out bowl.

“baby?” he hums lowly, his hand touching yours causing you to jump slightly. his eyebrows pull together slightly as he looks over your face, looking for any visible signs of stress or upset. “what’s wrong? do you not like it?”

“oh, no, no,” you laugh out humorlessly, bringing your fork down to swirl a few noddles before popping it in your mouth. “sorry, i’m just sleepy. yunho and mingi came over today.”

“ahh, tired my sick girl out, huh?” he teases, a frown on his face as he places the back of his hand on your head. “how’d you feel today? i hated leaving you.”

it takes everything in you not to burst into tears on the spot, your stomach twisting painfully as you shrug your shoulders at him.

“fine,” you mumble, “threw up a few times, then felt better. the same thing.”

“you gotta go to the doctor, love,” yeosang says, wiping at the corner of your mouth where a small speck of sauce lay. “i know you hate them but this is weird. especially since i feel fine.”

you only smile softly at him and nod, stomach sinking again after he adds on, “well, apart from being worried about you and so fucking annoyed with work. i know hwa’s mom got me the job but, shit, i’m about ready to be a real dick.”

“don’t do that,” you chastise lightly, smacking him in the arm playfully. he only chuckles in response, the tenseness in his eyes from the moment he walked in slowly disapating.

you can’t mention this tonight. you have to wait until his stress is minimal and news of his baby won’t be the thing that puts him over the edge.

“congratulations, you’re almost seven weeks pregnant!”

the words didn’t surprise you when you went to the doctor three days later, mingi’s hand in yours with a horrible pit in your stomach.

it felt wrong to be here with anyone who wasn’t yeosang but yunho and mingi had begged you to go, stressing your own personal safety as well as ensuring you didn’t somehow get five false positives.

and over the next few days, anytime you’d try to tell yeosang, something always came up and prevented you.

work and school still stressing him out, his coworkers inviting you guys to dinner, you passing out while he was still in the shower because apparently the first trimester is doing you so dirty already.

“you have to tell him soon, babe,” yunho said a week after that doctors appointment, holding back a laugh as he remembers the horror that crossed his fiance’s face when everyone thought he was the proud father to be.

“have you told him yet?” mingi asked two weeks later, back from a vacation with yunho where they couldn’t help but worry about you and yeosang.

his eyes widened and he covered his face with his hands when you shook your head no, his loudly spoken “what are you waiting for!” echoing through the small coffee shop.

“keep your voice down!” you snap, smacking him from across the table as you shoot him a stern look.

“y/n, it’s almost been a month and he still doesn’t know he’s gonna be a dad,” the boy whispers now, even though yeosang’s across the city at work and there’s only a few other people in the store right now.

“he’s been stressed about work and school and there just... hasn’t been a right time,” you reason weakly.

because even though that is the truth, he has been stressed and news of this would surely add on to it, you also know that telling him would make this all feel too real.

put it out in the world that you’re pregnant and he’ll be a father and you’ll both have to start making decisions based around those facts; are you both ready for this discussion?

you don’t feel ready. you feel more scared about this than you’ve ever felt in your entire life

“there might not ever be a good time, y/n,” mingi says softly, understanding why you’re scared but also knowing, despite his own feelings toward the boy, that yeosang will love you no matter what.

“and even though he’s a fucking dick, he loves you. and he wouldn’t want you being scared and dealing with this alone.”

tears prick your eyes because you know what mingi’s saying is right. and you guess if you’re gonna be terrified and stressed out, you might as well be together.

but your stomach nearly sinks that night, yeosang’s arm around your shoulder as you both watch tv, when he lowers the volume and begins to speak.

“baby, can i ask you something?”

you turn around and peek up at him, his eyes soft and curious and it makes your heart pull in your chest that even you can see the love reflecting in them.

“hm?” you hum as you look at him, warm and comfortable in his hold; because as far as stress and ways to relieve it go, you two usually fuck until you forget it.

but you haven’t felt right in the mornings and get sleepy by night, something you know yeosang had to have noticed and is too sweet to call you out on.

“are you... is everything okay?” he asks, his arm rubbing at your shoulder gently. “i feel like you’ve been out of it these past few weeks.”

he noticed the week you were sick but chopped it up to just that, feeling gross and drained and he completely understood it.

but then it seemed as if you started to avoid him completely, pushing away when he’d try to deepen a kiss or mutter that you weren’t in the mood when he sank to his knees at your bedside.

“and i don’t know... you seem a little distant,” he mumbled lowly, his hand slowly reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “i just wanna make sure everything’s okay.”

you think maybe it’s a little bit of everything that makes you promptly burst into tears. his sweetness and the starting of hormones and the guilt of keeping this secret from him for far too long.

“baby, what happened?” yeosang mumbles, his heart sinking the second he sees the tears well in your eyes.; he wasn’t sure what happened or what was wrong but he knew it had to be something.

you can only sniffle as you bury your face in his chest, shaking your head as you just cry and cry into him.

you’re faintly aware of his hand running through your hair, lips against your head as he takes deep, calming breaths.

“please tell me what’s wrong,” he says after a few moments, pulling your face out of his chest so you can meet his gaze. the look in your eye is one he’s never seen before and he doesn’t know what to make of it, wiping wetness from your cheeks as he looks at you pleadingly.

“c’mon, my love. talk to me,” his deep voice begs, a tiny sob leaving your mouth as you shake your head again.

“you’re gonna be mad,” you whimper out, knowing that you keeping this from him for this long was so fucking stupid; but you’re scared and you know he’s gonna be too, especially given his.... upbringing.

there are just so many factors that are making all of this ten times scarier.

“i won’t, baby,” he tells you gently, a pout on his lips as he looks down at you.

he’s not used to seeing you this upset, he hates seeing you cry and in any sort of pain since, for the past few years, you’ve only ever cried because of stupid, cheesy movies.

but you can only look at him with a blank expression, both of knowing very well how short his fuse could be.

“when do i ever get mad at you?” he corrects, a tiny smile breaking out across his face when you sniffle and your face scrunches up.

he doesn’t know what you’re about to tell him, or what could be so scary and upsetting that you’re breaking down like this, but he knows that when it comes to you, he’s wrapped around your finger.

and nothing you tell him could ever be that bad and panic-inducing.

“i’m pregnant.”

part 3

tag list: @mirror-juliet @toffee-hwa @valhoez @miatsubaki23

#yeosang #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #yeosang imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #yeosang scenarios #ateez series #yeosang series

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booksandseventeen · 4 years

Text

Characters with a bigger s/o and who has more of an appetite

Bigger s/o need love too! <3

Kyotani: (Mad Dog needs more love!)

This boy does not help with your food cravings

whatever he’s eating, he’s offering you a bite or two

and if you like his food, you can just have it all

CURVESSSSS

DAMN DOES HE LOVE YOUR CURVES

he’s not shy about grabbing your waist and thighs in public

and if you ever feel down about how you don’t have a thigh gap or that you’re not as skinny as the other girls, well buckle up buttercup

he’s not good with his words but he’ll RAVISH YOU, i’m talking all day body worship

he’s taking you to all your favorite restaurants/bakery’s/cafes

date nights are junk food and movies

and if he ever catches someone eyeing you up and down with distaste, he’s tucking you under his arm and grabbing your ass.

“K-Kyotani!”

“I cant keep my hands off you.”

“Kyo~ stopppp.” you whine when your boyfriend comes up behind you and grabs you around the waist, nicking at your neck.

“what? I can’t touch you during school or during practice so what else am I to do?” he grunts

“well, not in the middle of the grocery store is one i’m adding to the list!” you wiggled out of his grip and reach towards the highest shelf, your favorite cookies were back in stock but they were just out of your reach.

then you feel him behind you, pressed up against your butt and back as he reaches over you to grab your snack.

“Kyo! you did that on purpose!”

he takes his sweet time stepping away from you, one hand on your snack and the other still on your waist, squeezing lightly.

“you’re such a tease.” you said and blushed, snatching your snack from his hand. You go up and down the aisles, Kyotani making every excuse to rub on your body until you’re a blushing mess and he’s smirking like he won the national title.

“this is why I don’t take you shopping.” you said when his hands rub down your side. But when you look up and see the last item on your list on the highest shelf you sigh when he gives you a knowing look and presses his body against yours to reach it.

You smile, “but it’s getting harder to complain about.”

Tsuki:

At first you were shy because Tsuki is one the top 3 players that eat the least

but that doesn’t stop him from always nudging you into your favorite sweet store because he watches you look at the store from the corner of his eye

“I know you want it, just take it.” he says and pushes his unfinished food to you.

low key loves the way you smile when you take your first bite of dessert, he could watch you do it all day

in public he’s not much into PDA but when it’s just the two of you, he likes it when you sit on his lap

the type to watch you do a little fashion show just for him when you get done shopping

“but i’m heavy!” you always say when he grabs you and sits you on his lap

“tch, you think I can’t handle you?” he responds and rolls his eyes, grabbing onto your thighs and squeezing

always has a snack in his bag for you when you’re hungry

if you ever feel down about yourself he gets sooooooo mad!

“tch, who cares. I like you for who you are. Besides, I love the way you fill my hands

asdflasd;kfj

He pushes his unfinished bento towards you and you push it right back at him. Tadashi and Tsuki both give you a weird look. It isn’t like you to just push your food around your plate and also not take a bite from your boyfriends.

Then Tsuki hears the snickers and poorly covered laughter coming from a table behind him. He watches you glance at the table and look down ashamed.

“come on.” he says and grabs your hand while Tadashi goes to give that table a stern lecturing. No one laughs at his best friends girl.

“where are you taking me?” you ask while you struggle to keep up with him.

“to that bakery shop not far from here.”

“b-But we have school! and you have practice.”

“Tadashi will cover and we’ll be back before I start practice.” When you reach the bakery he orders for the both of you but when you still nudge your dessert around he grabs your wrist.

“I don’t care if you eat all your food and mine. You know I don’t have a big appetite, does that bother you?” he asks.

“of course not!” you shot back.

“well i’m not bothered with anything you do either.” he runs his hand up your arm in a rare show of affection and you nod. You can’t help the smile that overcomes your face when you take the first bite.

“so good~!”

“I’ll be making you say those words under different circumstances later”

*cue you choking on your dessert*

“That won’t be the only thing you’ll be chok-”

“I GET IT TSUKI!”

Ushijima:

Always giving you food even if you really are not hungry

“you need to keep your body fed”

“Toshi, this is the 4th meat bun you’ve given me.”

loves to feed you

he is also a great body worshipper if it’s just the two of you

when its cuddles, he likes to be the big spoon because he loves the way his hand dips over your curves, they fit perfectly in his hands

surprises you with your favorite meal

he’s a big boy so he thinks that anyone skinnier than you will just break under him

when you go through you closet and complain that nothing fits you and when you’re close to tears he’ll lay you on the bed and kiss you everywhere.

“you want to go shopping? I know Tendou will come.”

“shopping just means i’ve gotten bigger!” you whine

“no, it means there’s more to you to love.”

You blush, “that’s SO cheesy.”

“Toshi quit, seriously.”

You wave away the meat bun he brings in front of your nose. He frowns and waves it under your eyes.

“I dont want it!”

Frowns harder, waves the meat bun faster.

“fine!” you snatch the bun from his hand and take a giant bite, “you happy now?” you asked around a mouth full of food.

“yes, I know that’s your favorite snack.” he says and takes a bite out of his own snack.

“but that doesn’t mean I have to eat 7 all in one day.” You finish your snack and lick your lips, his eyes never straying from your mouth. You smirk and lean forward slightly and open your mouth, “feed me.”

He freezes. You think you might have actually broken him until he slowly brings up his hand and places a piece of bun in your mouth, his fingers brushing against your lips.

“feed me! feed me next!” Tendou sits down across from you and opens his mouth as wide as he can, you laugh and get up slightly from your chair to lean over and put the rest of the bun in Tendou’s mouth.

But when you go to sit back down, you’re the one to freeze. Ushijima had moved over so that when you sat down you were sitting on his lap.

You look behind you and smirk, “is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you tease.

“no, it’s this weeks Shonen Jump” he deadpans and whips out the comic book.

“GIVE THAT BACK!” Tendou screams

Bokuto:

you two practically eat the same amount

You want slice of cake? he’s feeding you the whole thing

Competition on who can eat the most

Akaashi is always standing nearby with a cup of water in his hand when one of you starts choking

your date nights consist of trying new places to eat and new food

he is so good at always telling you how good you look in your clothes that you hardly ever feel down about yourself

but when you do, he gets sad with you, telling himself that if he only tried harder to make sure you know how much he loves you that you wouldn’t be feeling down :(

so it’s up to Akaashi to make sure you BOTH feel better, so that means SLEEEEEPOVERRRRRR AT AKAASHI’S PLACE AND HE MAKES YOU BOTH YOUR FAVORITE FOOD

he’s your hype man 24/9

loves it when you lay on him for naps on the couch

squeezing you in random places

loves to watch you walk out the room

You both glare at each other from across the table. Your fork is poised over the last bite of cake and he has his spoon crossed with your utensil so that you’re both grinding against each other to reach the last piece.

“You had the last piece last time.” you gritted out.

“yeah but I paid for it.” he growled and pushed down harder, you clenched your teeth and fought back.

“You’ve had enough I think today.” Bokuto says but then instantly regrets it when he sees your face immediately fall and you take away your fork.

“I get it.” you say and rub your arms, “I knew I was eating too much today.”

Bokuto is on the verge of tears, “I didn’t mean it like that!” he jumps up and comes to your side of the table and grabs you around the waist, pulling you towards him.

“you’re absolutely perfect. I don’t care if you eat it all babe, you know I love how your body looks. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

You turn slowly towards him, the last piece of cake on your fork and a shit eating grin on your face. You pop the last piece of cake in your mouth and sigh with pleasure.

“You tricked me!” he exclaimed, you shrugged but then shrieked when he suddenly grabs you and kisses you hard on the mouth.

“you had a little icing on your lips.” he said smiling.

Kuroo:

when you two starting going out he’s so happy because he is now a father of two (a/n I will never stop making this joke)

No matter how many times you need reassurance, he’ll always give it to you

it’s 2am on a school night and you dont like how you look? he’ll facetime you and make you laugh until you cry

he’s whipping it up in the kitchen on the daily when you’re craving something thats not open on the weekends

constant battle of intercepting Kenma giving you his food when he thinks Kuroo isn’t looking

You happily help Kenma eat his food despite the lashing Kuroo gives you two

he definitely incorporates food in the bedroom.

whipped cream is his favorite

If you sometimes feel like working out he’s totally for it 100%

but if you feel like lazing around all weekend and play games then he’s there 100% as well

he’ll never let anyone make you feel like you’re less than beautiful

ice cream dates are a MUST

You two are cuddling on the couch, your body laid on top of his and you can feel his muscles shift when he moves and you sigh in content when he runs his hands through your hair and up and down your curves.

“would you still love me if I was 2 million pounds?”

“of course.”

“would you still love me if I was on that show my 600lb life?”

“I’d drive you to the doctor’s appointment myself.”

“would you still love me If i told you that Kenma’s been sneaking me his pudding cups that you pack for him for after practice snack and that he was scared to tell you so now he’s making me and in exchange I get the rest of his Bento tomorrow at lunch when he’s done eating.”

“umm....what.”

#hq #haikyuu #kyotani x reader #kyotani kentaro #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #hq ushijima #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto x reader #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo haikyuu #kuroo hq #kuroo x reader

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undine-taz · 3 years

Text

5 times Diavolo failed to be a sugar daddy and one time he succeeded

I'm just imagining poor Diavolo trying SO HARD to spoil an MC who is just. Not greedy in the slightest and loves weird little shinies while being totally indifferent to the super crazy expensive gifts he usually gives to people he's trying to woo. Just in case, this is the PUREST OF FLUFF and completely sfw. I can’t even think of any tw to tag??? Let me know if you notice something. Oh, and MC is imagined to be gender neutral. There’s a mention of perfume, but not in the feminine sense- that’s just the proper word for a certain level of scent concentration.

1. Expensive Perfume

Diavolo's first attempt is the most expensive perfume/cologne money can buy

He's not quite sure what MC's favorite scent is, so he buys a wide variety

All the bottles are sleek and minimalistic and the scents inside are VERY obviously expensive, the kind of thing Mammon would probably lose his mind over

MC's reaction is perfectly grateful, they say sincerely how much they appreciate him thinking of them. He doesn't feel a single lie off of them and he walks away mostly satisfied thinking maybe they’re just the type to not show a ton of excitement over gifts

That is, until he's walking down the hallways in RAD and happens to overhear a conversation between Asmo and MC

Asmo's talking about how he's been going through perfume at a record pace lately, and he feel so bad about wasting these beautiful bottles... would MC like them? He has one shaped like a rose, one like a star, one modeled after the cosmos...

Asmo doesn't even get to finish because MC is already flapping their hands in joy (I'm autistic and MC is going to happy stim if it kills me) and wiggling and practically jumping into Asmo's arms in excitement

Asmo's laughing and promising to save all of his prettiest empty perfume bottles for MC from now on and MC is practically wiggling in joy and nuzzling their face into Asmo's chest in happiness

They’re talking about spending the night in Asmo’s room trying to make perfume blends for each other to fill up the bottles and tossing scent ideas back and forth

And Diavolo is sitting there feeling a bit like he's been bonked over the head. Those happy stims are ADORABLE and he wants to be the one who causes them. He's not sure why his perfume failed and Asmo's literal empty bottles worked but he's DETERMINED to try again

2. Fancy gemstones

Diavolo's next attempt is fancy gemstones. He finds large, beautifully cut and processed gemstones, the type that are so perfectly processed they look almost identical except for color

Again, when he gives MC his gifts he can tell that they're sincerely grateful! They tell him they love that he was thinking of them, they worry that he spent too much money on them ( they try to refuse at first because it's too much, but Diavolo breezes past their protests with a smile and an iron will) and Diavolo doesn't sense even the tiniest hint of untruth from their professions of gratitude

But.... there are no happy wiggles, no stunned gasps, no joyously flapping hands, no nothing. Just calm gratitude.

Diavolo goes back to the drawing board, and he's just going to visit the HOL library for inspiration in a rare book (and as an excuse to see MC) when he hears Satan and MC laughing together in the library.

When he walks in, he sees Satan and MC crouched together with some strange tools in their hands, gently chipping away at a large rock. There's a tiny pile of uncut, unprocessed gemstones at MC's elbow.

As soon as MC sees him, he's aflood in a wash of excited chatter as MC tells him about the gemstone mining kit Satan bought after reading a book on gemstones. In fact Diavolo can see the book open at Satan's elbow along with a notebook where the two have been identifying every gemstone they dig up.

Before he knows it, MC seizes his hand and he's drawn into the game, watching their eyes shine and seeing them bounce in their seat with excitement every time they uncover a new gemstone.

Dammit. Another failure. But, Diavolo finds as he watches MC's obvious joy, he can't be too frustrated when they're this happy.

3. Shopping spree at Majolish

Diavolo is undeterred! He takes a day to bring them to Majolish, having them try on outfit after outfit. Sure, they're not picking out very many things, but he loves spending time with them and they say they're enjoying themself.

After several hours, Barbatos gently reminds him that he has a meeting soon and that MC seems absolutely exhausted.

Diavolo pouts, especially when he sees that MC hasn't picked out very many things, but he sighs and concedes.

When he drops them off at the HOL, MC gives him a hug and thanks him for helping them pick out some more formal outfits for any upcoming RAD events. Diavolo accepts the hug gladly, but there's no squeaking or jumping and DEFINITELY no flapping. MC seems rather exhausted, and Belphegor has appeared from nowhere and draped himself over MC and is mumbling about needing a nap buddy and MC isn't even trying to argue

The next day, Barbatos shows him Levi's post on Devilgram. It's a video, of Levi giving MC a plain, unassuming box.

When MC opens the box, their mouth drops open, their eyes go wide, and they fling themselves at Levi, happily nuzzling into his chest and mumbling incoherent thanks while Levi turns bright red and starts stuttering and clearly tries not to combust

The video cuts out for a second and then starts again with MC wearing a simple shirt embroidered with a strange logo, which Levi explains from behind the camera is inspired by MC's favorite series and was handmade by Levi for practice. Levi was apparently asked to design formalwear inspired by anime, and he chose MC's favorite to practice a design. According to the caption, the two spent an entire day together watching the series and sketching ideas!

MC is beaming and happy stimming while Diavolo thumps his head into his desk dramatically and Barbatos elegantly stifles a chuckle behind him.

4. Bouquets of flowers

Well now Diavolo is determined. HE WILL MAKE MC HAPPY STIM IF IT KILLS HIM

HE HAS HIS PRIDE AS THE FUTURE DEMON KING DAMMIT

He begins watching the corniest of romcoms for ideas.

Midway into one of them, he sees the character buy their love interest bouquets upon bouquets of roses

BRILLIANT! He's up and placing orders immediately. Barbatos stays behind for a few minutes to actually watch how this particular ploy works out on screen, before laughing and going to watch the chaos

As dedicated as he is to the young lord, watching Diavolo scramble around trying to impress his first puppy love only to fail because the target of his affections is simply too humble.... well, it's honestly adorable. He'll step in if it goes on for too long, but for now it might actually be good for the young master to experience something he can't have by throwing money or influence at it.

Diavolo has some of the Devildom's finest florists on the horn and he's sending a veritable flood of their finest cut flowers... AND he's sending them from an anonymous source, just like in the movie! The woman in the movie only sent over THREE bouquets to the object of her love, so Diavolo sends 300. Only the best for his MC :)

He's waiting impatiently for the results of his little scheme when he gets an apologetic text from Lucifer saying that he'll be late to the meeting and MC won't be coming at all. Some anonymous admirer sent MC an excessive amount of flowers and the sheer amount of pollen triggered allergies in ALL of the demon bros and MC.

Lucifer needed time to clear out the house and distribute allergy meds to everyone and buy out the nearest store on tissue paper

Barbatos is no longer even bothering to stifle his chuckles while Diavolo buries his face in his arms to hide his shame

To rub salt in the wound, Lucifer tells him a few days later that he set up a miniature greenhouse for MC to grow humanworld herbs in and they've barely left it in the last two days

Lucifer’s been spending most of his free time in the greenhouse with them, helping them tinker with humidity spells and listening to their excited monologues on human gardening techniques

Lucifer is definitely smirking as he tells Diavolo this and Diavolo doesn't bother to ask how Lucifer knew what was going on, because his old friend knows him too well and Diavolo realizes he's not exactly subtle.

What he doesn't realize is that Barbatos is also a dirty dirty snitch and he and Lucifer have been watching over his attempts with a mix of hilarity and pity

5. Desserts

Some might give up, but not Diavolo! His newest ideas is fancy desserts. He was told by a sweet old succubus that the best way to his lover's heart was through the stomach (actually she initially had some far raunchier suggestions that had made Diavolo blush and had given him some ideas for far, FAR in his future relationship with MC, but that's neither here nor there) and so here Diavolo is, placing a giant order at Madame Scream's to be delivered to the HOL.

This time he has learned from his mistakes and he signs it as being from him and addresses it to "MC and the residents of HOL" because even he recognizes there are far too many sweets for a human to eat before they go bad

Barbatos by this point is starting to feel pity and is almost tempted to suggest he wait until it's not Beel's day for Fangol practice to send a giant array of tempting sweets.

Almost. If it weren't for the maid cafe fiasco of last week Barbatos probably would have, but that lace had chafed in areas that should never be chafed.

Diavolo sent his gift only to receive a poorly drawn thank-you card drawn by Beel and signed by everyone at the HOL, including MC, even though "I didn't even get a chance to eat any, BEEL"

This poor man feels his soul leave his body, especially when he returns home from RAD to find Barbatos and MC baking together and singing along to Disney songs (well, MC was singing, Barbatos was simply watching them with a smile and occasionally twisting them into a simple dance to make them laugh and squiggle with joy)

Et tu, Barbatos?

After yesterday's glitter incident, Barbatos has no shame and simply smirks back. He'll help the young lord when he can shower without finding glitter in every crevice.

+1: Tea together

Diavolo is planning his next gift when he gets a message from MC, of all people

His heart flutters, he has butterflies in his stomach, and he hasn't even read it yet!

It's a simple text- "What are you up to?"

Obviously Diavolo can't admit he's shirking paperwork to try and figure out a gift that would make them happy! So he improvises and claims he's working. He gets back a sad face emoji and a simple "Miss you! I feel like we haven't hung out in forever, but I know how busy you are. Good luck, I'm rooting for you!"

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART AND MC IS TO BLAME

This man is dramatically draped over his desk wailing about how cute MC is.

Luckily for him Barbatos has forgiven him for both the maid cafe incident and the glitter incident and Diavolo has been too distracted trying to plan gifts to cause any new chaos

Barbatos hands him a lovely picnic basket, complete with tea and fancy sandwiches, and tells him to go see MC and take a break since he's clearly not getting any work done as is.

Cue guilty glance to the overwhelming stack of paperwork that's been building up. He swears he's never seen Barbatos place more and yet they keep growing, are they breeding somehow...? Did Lucifer curse him after the taffy incident?

Either way, Diavolo takes the basket and heads off to HOL.

He's either very lucky or (more likely) Barbatos bribed Lucifer into helping him out, as MC is the one to answer the door.

They look kind of down until they see him and he explains he's there to spend time with them, and then they absolutely LIGHT UP.

Before he knows it, they've thrown himself into his arms and they're bouncing in excitement and snuggling him and happy flapping and boyo is confused but OVER THE MOON.

He finally did it!?!?! What was it!?!?! The picnic basket? Do they have a thing for picnics baskets!?!?!

And then he actually tunes in a d listens to their flood of chatter and how happy they are to see him and how much they've missed him and how excited and grateful they are they he took time out of his busy schedule to spend time with him and out in the thought to prepare a way for them to spend time in each other's company...

O H

He is M E L T I N G

He can't believe it was this easy.... no need for fancy gifts or anything like that, just... paying attention to their likes and spending time with them????

Holy shit he is gonna protect this human's smile witH HIS LIFE

And now that he understands them better he can buy EXPENSIVE SHIT THEY'LL ACTUALLY LIKE AND HE'LL GET ALL THE HAPPY SNUGGLES AND JOYOUS STIMMING IN THE WORLD!!!!

Yes, he decides, wrapping his arms around them while trying to keep the basket level

Now that he's gotten a taste of their sincere joy, he's hooked and he's going to make them as excited and happy as this as often as he possibly can.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me one master to rule them all #sfw #fluff #bc Dia is just as starved for a friend #gn!mc

34 notes · View notes

azucanela · 4 years

Text

[HOME] IS WHERE THE SHIP IS [PT.2]

HOME MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: in which a lot of doors are slammed, because zuko is an angsty mess. but it’s okay, because at least he has Y/N by his side as everything becomes a big mess.

WORD COUNT: 7.1k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, threats

A/N: sorry this took so long! i hope you all like it! also im at 400 followers wow klasdkhkhaks idk why haha, anyways remember to drink water my friends

This shouldn’t be possible.

Staring at the young boy in wonder, Y/N can’t help it as her mouth gapes open. He’s Airbending. Making him the last Airbender, making him the Avatar. The issue, Y/N L/N is the Avatar. Or at least, she thought she was. Maybe she was just a cheap knock off? So many thoughts circled through her mind as her brows furrowed, the Southern Water Tribe was the last place she would’ve expected someone who was well over a century old to be hiding out. Though the ‘old’ man, appeared to be younger than Y/N.

Regardless, from the look in Zuko’s eyes as he took the young boy into custody, he had hope that they could return home without Y/N arriving in a pair of cuffs and immediately being sentenced to either death or life in prison.

It was nice to see him happy again.

Ever since they’d discovered her ability to Waterbend, making their search for the Avatar pointless, Zuko’s small sliver of hope to return to the Fire Nation had diminished. Iroh had noticed this sudden change in attitude, and made several attempts to brighten the young boy’s mood to no avail, though he had no idea about the major issue the pair was dealing with. Or perhaps he did, Iroh was a mysterious man, with a mysterious amount of information. Y/N had contemplated asking him for information in regards to the possibility of two Avatars several times, though she elected not to, fearing she would arouse suspicion.

Then again, who would Iroh tell? He clearly wasn’t fond of his brother, and it appeared his loyalty lied with tea, pai cho, and Zuko, who had no intentions of allowing Y/N to fall into Fire Nation hands, but Zuko didn’t like the idea of living in a ship for the rest of his life.

At this point, home is where the ship is.

Y/N found herself staring at the child capable of Airbending as they took him to the brig, a wave of sadness washing over her. He was a kid, he didn’t deserve this, he had done nothing wrong other than exist. Now that she followed the guards as the placed him in one of the cells in the brig, Y/N wondered what would become of him if he was ever in the Fire Lord’s presence, she tried to shake off these thoughts though, sighing as she turned away. He was probably just as confused as she was, well maybe not as confused, he was blissfully unaware of the second potential Avatar on the boat.

“Get some food, I’ll watch over him for now.”

The two guards that had escorted him here alongside her exchanged looks, before turning back to her, “are you sure, ma’am?”

It was easy to forget that Y/N was basically a guard as well, a glorified one, but a guard nonetheless. Being Zuko’s right hand had come with a lot of responsibilities when they were in the Fire Nation, and keeping him alive had been one of them. It had obviously come with several benefits as well, but Y/N tended to forget in recent times.

“Yeah, go on ahead. Just don’t leave me for too long, eh?” She waved them off. Given Zuko’s attitude, one of them had to maintain good rapport with the other members of the ship, otherwise they likely would’ve revolted a while ago. It was a job for two, one that her and Iroh shared. Regardless of rapport and general kindness, Y/N wanted a moment alone with the young Avatar, she had questions. Lots of them.

It appeared he did too as he looked at her, she’d sat herself across from his cell, sword strung over her lap. “So..” Y/N began, “where have you been the past century?”

He looked up at her, head tilting, likely in confusion as he responded. “In an iceberg. I kinda went into hibernation I guess, to keep myself from dying during a storm.” He plopped down onto the floor of the cell, “what happened the past century?” The boy asked in turn, looking at Y/N curiously, his hands bound in chains.

With a frown, Y/N replied, “nothing good.” She stared at her hands, feeling shame flood her. Her nation’s actions had never been... good. And she didn’t want to be the one to tell the young boy about the genocide of his people, but it had to be done, “in case you haven’t heard, the Air Nomads were... eradicated. The Fire Nation is now striving towards world domination.” It was the truth, the sad truth, the Fire Nation had been working towards the goal of world domination for quite some time now, and it seemed they might be successful.

This boy could ruin all of that.

His face visibly darkened at this explanation, looking away, his voice seemed to harden, “yeah. I heard.” There wasn’t really much else to explain, the war had been the only constant in all this time, Y/N couldn’t find a way to see the brightside, probably because there wasn’t one. Just a side filled with incredibly bright flames that would likely lead to the end of the world.

Swallowing nervously, Y/N’s lips formed a tight smile, “I’m Y/N. By the way.” Maybe it was weird, but Y/N wanted to form a friendship with this kid, something about him felt different, and she wanted to understand what exactly that was.

A small smile found it’s way onto his face, though the remnants of what was likely anger, sadness, and confusion were still evident on his face as he replied, “I’m Aang.”

It felt odd, sitting across from him as their eyes met. Like there was something buzzing in the air, like something was wrong. The hairs on the back of Y/N neck rose, and she felt goosebumps form on her skin as she gave the young boy a smile as well. His mouth seemed to gape open, brows furrowing in confusion as he prepared to speak.

“Miss L/N.” Called out one of the guards, earning both the attention of Aang and Y/N, who had been mesmerized by the mysterious feeling in the air. “I came to relieve you of guard duty.”

Y/N’s smile remained as she turned to the guard, “thank you.” Though she wished she had more time to speak with Aang, it was clear he’d felt whatever it was as well. Not that she could ask him about it with anyone else around, though she’d been on the ship for years now, her lack of trust in the crew remained the same.

Inhaling deeply, she stood, and she could feel the gaze of Aang on her as she walked away, the odd feeling slowly dissipating the further she got from him. Now, a new feeling filled her, guilt. They’d locked away a child who awoke in an entirely new world, only to find that his entire civilization was dead.

Frustrated, Y/N brought a hand to her temple and sighed as she made her way to her room. She opened the door, and went to slam it, except her hand never touched the door, though she did fly against the wall on the opposite side of the room as she did slam the door.

With a gust of wind.

That’s new.

Y/N cursed, shaking her hand aggressively as she glared at it, she sat up from her position on the floor, her room now in disarray thanks to the random gust of wind. Y/N moved to pick up one of many things that fell on the floor when her door swung open, a million different excuses for the mess were suddenly running through her mind as she tried to think of one that actually made sense. Opening her mouth as she looked up at the intruder she realized it was none other than Prince Zuko, who tackled her in a hug.

None of this made sense.

Her arms slowly wrapped around him as her brows furrowed, confusion flooding her as Zuko spoke, “we did it!” Listening to his words, she realized that she hadn’t heard his voice sound that happy in a while, and Y/N couldn’t stop herself from smiling momentarily. Key word being momentarily, as she soon recalled that it was a literal child that would be their ticket back to the Fire Nation, guilt consumed her.

Y/N did not support this, and despite the way Zuko smiled for the first time in forever, she contemplated releasing the Avatar once she got the chance, for a variety of reasons. Not that Zuko needed to know that as she replied softly, “yeah, we did.”

“We can go home, Y/N.” He released her from the hug to look her in the eyes, his hands remaining on her shoulders.

Raising a brow, she teased him, “I thought I was your home.” A light pink dusted Zuko’s cheeks at her comment as she continued, recalling that day, “didn’t you even say I was your girlfrie-”

“What happened to your room?” He asked in an attempt to change the subject, finally beginning to look around, his brows furrowed.

Y/N hollowed out her cheeks as she gave him a sheepish smile, “raccoons.”

Yeah, that was the worst excuse on her list. It was better than nothing though, stressing Zuko was the last thing she wanted to do, and an accidental Airbending incident while the last Airbender was on board the ship would probably stress him out.

Zuko opened his mouth, likely to tell her how stupid that sounded, though he was interrupted by another person shoving Y/N’s door open, “Y/N, we have a proble-” Upon seeing Zuko, the guard froze, pausing his sentence. Y/N already knew the news must’ve been bad if the guard had wanted to come to her first, likely expecting Zuko’s reaction be rather explosive. It was well known on board the ship that the only person capable of minimizing Zuko’s temper was Y/N, which is why most bad news tended to come from her, after another crew member told her. This seemed to be one of those instances, though it had gone wrong seeing as Zuko was in her room.

The guard’s eyes met Y/N’s momentarily as she nodded for him to continue. Zuko simply rose a brow at this interaction. “The Avatar has escaped.”

Everything went downhill from there.

The attempt to recapture the Avatar went rather poorly, and Y/N hadn’t really done much in assistance if she was honest. The boy had started glowing, that wasn’t something normal people did, then again he was the Avatar. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if she could glow as well, even as Zuko questioned her lack of action.

Due to his failure to recapture the Avatar, Zuko’s mood seemed to worsen immediately, and his anger was mostly directed at Y/N. She was a talented Firebender who had done little to help recapture him, partially because she was focusing on ensuring half the crew didn’t die of frostbite. Not that Zuko was taking this into consideration during his bout of rage.

Had Y/N been more focused on him, she probably would’ve knocked some sense into him, but she figured Iroh had it handled as she handed the final crew member a blanket before returning to her incredibly messy room. Serving only as a reminder of another one of her problems.

One, the only Airbender in the world had just disappeared, shortly after she discovered she could Airbend, leaving her without someone to teach her. Two, this probably would’ve happened regardless since Y/N really didn’t want to sentence a child to death at the hands of Fire Lord Ozai. Three, Y/N had no choice but to figure out how to control all her abilities, or else another accident could occur and she’d expose herself to someone who wouldn’t be as merciful as Zuko.

She’d mastered Firebending and Waterbending for the most part, though it was difficult without a master, she’d managed to teach herself just fine. Y/N wouldn’t deny that training in secret was difficult, with only an old Waterbending scroll to aid her, but something was better than nothing. And she was doing better than the Waterbender from the Water Tribe, so that was good news she supposed.

Zuko had been helpful, nobody questioned it when he ordered a random stop on the coast and they’d disappear for hours at a time. He’d been supportive of her endeavors to learn how to control her abilities, training alongside her, Y/N had noticed the way he was slowly incorporating Waterbending movements into his own Firebending, though he’d deny it if she pointed it out.

There were peaceful moments on the beaches they practiced on, ones that reminded her why she’d joined Zuko in banishment, why she cared for him.

Right now was not one of these moments.

As Y/N picked up a book that had fallen onto the floor due to her Airbending incident, placing it on her desk, the door swung open for the third time that day, hitting the side of the wall. This action knocked down her book, and Y/N didn’t need to turn around to know who it was as she extended her arm outward to signal for Zuko to remain silent as she inhaled deeply, trying to maintain patience.

“Reconsider whatever you are going to say.” Y/N began, closing her eyes, “because I am this,” she puts her fingers ridiculously close together, “close to ending your life.”

He rolled his eyes at her words, but closed the door more gently and leaned down to place the book back on the desk before speaking, “why didn’t you do anything to help against the Avatar?” When they’d discussed it earlier, she hadn’t given him an answer, mostly because she was busy melting the other Firebenders out of the ice that had entrapped them during the fight with the Avatar and his new friends. But Zuko sounded calmer than he had earlier, which meant he'd taken her threat seriously.

Good.

“He’s a kid, Zuko.” Y/N replied incredulously, continuing to go about cleaning her room. She bit her tongue as she contemplated pointing out that they were kids too, they shouldn’t be dealing with this. “And he’s the only person who could possibly understand what I’m going through.” Her voice is quieter as she says this, as though there’s someone else in the room who could hear her. Despite the fact that she’d been training with Waterbending, they had tried their hardest to avoid discussing the fact that she was the Avatar. Or, kind of the Avatar.

Zuko grimaces at her comments, looking away from her awkwardly, “we deserve to be living in a palace.” Y/N swallows nervously, his words only serving as a remind of their past, her past.

“You didn’t seem to mind leaving that behind when we found out what I could do.” Y/N retorted, staring at him as he desperately tried to avoid her piercing gaze.

These words seemed to strike a chord in him, and all the unspoken words from the day they found out seemed to be revealing themselves as they spoke, “because we had no other choice!” Zuko exclaimed, gesturing wildly, “now, we have a chance at returning to the Fire Nation.”

Picking up a small box, she placed it onto her desk alongside several of her things, “what if we just didn’t go back?” Y/N proposed quietly, staring at the small figurine. She’d had the thought multiple times, maybe it would’ve been easier to convince Zuko before they’d found another Avatar. Prior to discovering the Airbender, there had been no point in searching the world for the Avatar, and settling down somewhere would’ve been far more ideal than living on a ship for the rest of her life. Iroh had expressed similar feelings despite his blissful ignorance of the Avatar living alongside him, though he supported his nephew’s endeavors, “what if we ran away from all this Zuko? Your Uncle has always wanted to start a tea shop we could-”

“Are you crazy?” Zuko asked, “Y/N we are so close. If we find him again then my father will restore my honor. “ He insisted, and the desperation, the pain in his voice almost hurt Y/N as well, the fact that he still believed in his dreadful father. Y/N opened up her mouth to respond, only for Zuko to continue, “don’t you care?”

Y/N wanted to scoff at this comment, and couldn’t help the way her fists balled up as she felt anger consume her. Did she care? She had gone to banishment with him despite the protests of the Fire Lord himself, and he was wondering if she cared? After everything Y/N had done for him? She couldn’t help but feel bitter as his words washed over her and suddenly, all the things she’s done for his sake came to her attention. Oh god, if only he knew what she did.

He’d probably kill her.

Y/N quickly shook away those thoughts as she responded, “I refuse to condemn a child to the likes of your father.” Zuko wouldn’t acknowledge it, even after 3 years, but his father was horrible. Y/N knew from experience how far his ambition went, she knew how much he was willing to give up for power. Y/N tries to ignore those memories as she exhales sharply before replying, “we've both seen what he’s done to his own children.”

Zuko is silent at this comment, his eyes narrow at her and Y/N quickly realized she struck a nerve, grimacing as she mutters, “I need... to go see Iroh.” She’s grappling for any excuse to escape this conversation. And Y/N supposed this was better than the raccoon excuse she had used earlier.

Y/N quickly decided that she could apologize later as she made her way to her door, sparing Zuko a glance to see that he was staring at a painting that had fallen during her Airbending incident, one of Y/N, him and Iroh. The glass of the framed image had cracked, and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if that was a sign. Her secrets were piling up, and today only made it worse. From Airbending to the... interesting connection Y/N seemed to have with Aang. She couldn’t let him get into Fire Lord Ozai’s hands at least until she had a better understanding of this connection, for all she knew, if Aang died, she would too.

Heading over to Iroh’s room had once been an excuse, but now she had a mission, she was going to ask him about the possibility of two Avatars. And perhaps drink some tea for the sake of calming down, though her fight with Zuko hadn’t gotten too heated, she knew the tension between them would remain for days to come. Though they had no choice but to get over it, the two worked side by side each day, and they both needed a clear head to get through each painstaking day on the ship without complications.

If Y/N had an attitude like Zuko’s, the crew might just abandon ship.

Coming upon Iroh’s door, Y/N begins to reconsider her decision, maybe he was napping, or busy in some other way. Perhaps, this wasn’t the best idea, and consulting with Zuko before doing something so drastic would be better. Then again, she wasn’t really on speaking terms with him at the moment, so she summoned her courage and knocked on Iroh’s door, a small part of her hoping that he wouldn’t open it.

Y/N’s wish didn’t come true as a smiling Iroh opened his door, “Y/N, welcome.” He greeted. Iroh’s room smelt of tea and candles, and looking at it now, Y/N realized he was a rather organized person with very few belongings. Though, the things he carried with him clearly had sentimental value. “What can I do for you?”

“Do I have to need something to come see you?” She asks playfully, Iroh had always been someone pleasant to converse with, even before banishment. Though these years traveling together had certainly brought them closer together, bonding over Zuko was a common pass time, though their friendship had long since expanded into other topics of conversation.

Iroh hummed in response, sitting down in front of his tea kettle, “so you don’t need anything?” He begins to boil the water, retrieving some tea leaves from a cabinet that Y/N is sure has an endless supply.

“I do have a question.” Comes her reply, taking a seat across from him. “About the Avatar, and such.”

Taking two teacups, Iroh looks to her curiously, “there are a few things we could discuss in regards to the Avatar.”

Y/N considered how she could word this without sounding suspicious, and she quickly realized that her options were rather limited as she opened her mouth, “I was wondering what the other Avatar sightings could’ve been, if.. this kid is the real Avatar.” What she said wasn’t a lie, there had been dozens of sightings of other people bending more than one element. And from the research she’d done, most of the people who were allegedly capable of bending more than one element died at a young age.

Iroh hummed in understanding, pouring the tea into the cups he’d set out for the two of them, “do you know what a Dualbender is?” He asks, looking to her.

Y/N nods slowly, “I’ve heard the myths, but I don’t know much. Some question if they are just that, myths.” She’d considered the possibility that she was a dualbender, and made an attempt to research the topic, but there wasn’t much information since it was rather rare. That and the fact that the name ‘Dualbender’ implied the capability of bending two elements, and Y/N could evidently bend three.

“Well, the Fire Nation has encountered a few in the past.” Iroh explains, “Dualbenders are born when the Avatar experiences near-death.” He blows on his tea, staring into the dark liquid, and Y/N follows suit. “To put it simply, they’re mistakes. A failed attempt to continue the Avatar cycle because the Avatar at the time doesn’t actually die.”

Y/N’s brows draw together at his words, a mistake? She decides that’s a lovely way to regard herself as she speaks, “the Avatar said he was frozen in an iceberg all that time he was gone.” Iroh doesn’t question how she attained this information, simply nodding along to her words, “would that qualify as near-death?” Aang had referred to it as a state of hibernation, and Y/N wondered if this could explain her existence. Regardless, this meant that she wasn’t the Avatar, or an Avatar. She was a mistake. If Y/N had to guess, she wasn’t capable of bending Earth, and given how long the Avatar had been in his state of hibernation, that’s the only reason she was capable of bending three elements of four in the first place.

“Yes, I believe it would.” His eyes fell onto the small circular window of his room, looking outside it at the crashing waves. “There are likely several dualbenders out there. Or...” Iroh paused, likely considering his next words as he turned back to Y/N, “an incredibly powerful one.” Y/N couldn’t help but curse Iroh for his mysterious way with words, though he likely knew nothing of her little secret, it sure felt like he did as his eyes pierced into her very soul.

“Interesting.” Y/N said, trying to seem disinterested, sipping her tea nonchalantly.

Iroh raised a brow, “speaking of the Avatar. What are you going to do now that we’ve actually found him?” Y/N wanted to laugh at this statement, nobody had expected to actually find the Avatar when they set out on this trip.

“What do you mean?” She asked, tilting her head at him in confusion.

Exhaling deeply, Iroh sighed, “should my nephew successfully bring the Avatar back to the Fire Nation, you’re going to a have a problem.” Understanding washed over her as she met Iroh’s eyes.

Y/N’s face darkened at his comment, “I’ve tried to convince him not to go back, to abandon this.”

“But he refused.” Iroh said knowingly, his nephew was certainly set in his ways. Regardless of how many times both Iroh and Y/N had broached the topic of giving up on the search for the Avatar, he’d always rejected the possibility. Though Y/N had never managed to actually have a discussion with him about it until today since she never thought that they’d see the day that they actually found the Avatar and had a chance to go home. She thought she had time.

Iroh shook his head, “Y/N, you need to tell him.”

Her timeline had just been moved up.

Scowling at the reminder, Y/N turned to Iroh, “I don’t regret it.” She affirms, placing her tea down to face him, she says this mainly to convince herself, not Iroh. Though she appreciates him and all that he has done, confrontations like these are less than favorable.

With a shrug, Iroh replies, “I didn’t ask if you did.”

“You didn’t need to.” Y/N grumbled, her mood souring. This day had been horrid thus far, and Iroh was not helping.

Picking up her up to take another sip of her tea, Y/N jumped at the door slamming open, exhaling deeply in an attempt to calm herself. She already knew who it was, only one person on the ship had that bad habit.

“Uncle, I need-” Zuko paused upon noticing Y/N.

“Thank you for the tea, Iroh.” Y/N spoke with a tight lipped smile, before giving Zuko an empty look and sitting up, “I was just leaving. Have fun.” Stepping past Zuko, Y/N contemplates bumping shoulders with him, but ultimately decides against the petty action as she gently closes the door behind her.

She doesn’t notice the way Zuko reaches out for her as she exits, or the way he groans in annoyance as he brings his hands to his face.

Iroh gave the young prince a look, “what did you do?” He asks, putting away Y/N’s cup of tea, and bringing an empty cup down for Zuko as he gestured to the now empty spot in front of him.

“Hey, it wasn’t just me!” Zuko exclaimed, plopping down on the floor across from his Uncle, watching him pour a cup of tea before taking it begrudgingly.

Iroh hummed in response, “then it sounds like you need to have a conversation with Y/N. Not me.” He pointed out. It wasn’t the first time they’d both come to him after a fight, Iroh was aware of the bond the two shared, and the mutual denial of how extensive it was. But recently, things seemed to have changed, and he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or not.

Zuko scoffed, sipping his tea, “she’s being mean.” He almost scowled at how childish his words sounded, but her reference to his father had caught him off guard. Then again, he’d insinuated that she didn’t care, even though she had traveled the world in search of someone they thought didn’t exist.

Okay, they’d both said things they regretted.

Maybe Zuko was right, maybe Y/N was being mean, but that was mainly because she had bigger problems than capturing the Avatar, Zuko only knew about... some of those problems.

Entering her room, Y/N sighed, looking around to see it was now clean. Likely a courtesy of Zuko. Actions speak louder than words, and Zuko wouldn’t be the one to apologize verbally, she knew that much. Making her way to her bed, Y/N collapsed into it, this day had been longer than she’d expected.

Sleep sounded nice right about now.

Y/N opened her eyes to see she was in the air, rain pouring violently down onto the saddle she was seated in. Thunder rattled above her, and she could see a flash of lightning strike down into the water, spinning around, she noticed that all she could see for miles was water, the ocean seemed endless.

Moving to look over the saddle, Y/N saw fur, quickly realizing that she was on Aang’s Sky Bison, her mouth gaped open in shock, turning to the front of the animal where a panicked Avatar sat, attempting to steer the creature to safety.

Scrambling towards the front of the Sky Bison to try and speak with Aang, Y/N extended her hand, only to see that she wasn’t wearing traditional Fire Nation clothing, instead her clothes left her arms exposed. A tattoo of two dragons snaking around her arm, one colored white and the other colored black, the image leaving Y/N’s brows furrowing in confusion.

She didn’t have a tattoo.

Shaking off the confusion, she quickly realized there were bigger problems at hand than a mysterious tattoo before grabbing Aang’s shoulder. He turned to look back at her, eyes red due to the tears streaming down his face and mixing with the water pouring down on them, panic clear in his face, though his eyes seemed to widen in shock at the sight of her.

Y/N wondered who would’ve spoke first had they not begun to fall towards the water, quickly getting sucked in by the current. Sstruggled to keep control of her body, and though her vision was blurry, and her eyes stung due to the sea water, she could make out Aang and the Sky Bison in the water, swimming towards them despite the burning sensation in her lungs.

She reached for him, preparing to swim upwards as quickly as she could to ensure they both survived, but he began to glow, causing her to falter. Though Y/N quickly realized she had no choice but to grab him or they’d both die, and her hand shot out to grab his arm.

Once she’d made contact with her, the tattoo snaking up her arm began to glow as well, and she felt panic flood her.

Everything went white as they were encased in ice.

Shooting up from her bed, Y/N gasped out for air, as though she’d actually been drowning, her hand coming to her neck. The shock of the dream almost distracted her from the rapid series of knocks coming from her door, her head whipping towards it as she blinked, once, twice, before sitting up from her bed and shakily making her way towards it. Y/N opened the door, to see Zuko’s hand preparing to ram against her face now that the door no longer stood in his way, along with several other crew members standing behind him.

They were all in sleepwear, and Y/N suddenly realized she’d fell asleep in her Fire Nation armor, looking to them for answers as to why they’d gathered in front of her door. There was a panicked look on Zuko’s face as one of the crew members that had noticed her confusion explained awkwardly, “you were screaming, Miss L/N.”

Oh.

Y/N let out a small laugh of embarrassment, her hand coming to her neck, “sorry about that guys. Bad dream.” She looked away from them, trying to determine what to say next.

Zuko spoke first, turning back to the crew, “you heard her.” When they did nothing, he continued, more frustrated, “leave!” He exclaimed, as though it was obvious, and the crew members that were there suddenly nodded rapidly, saluting the two of them before returning to their quarters.

Zuko turned back to Y/N, his face red as he sighed, “are you okay?” He grumbled out.

Y/N nodded slowly, bringing her arm up as she recalled the tattoo from her dreams, sliding up the sleeve to see that her arm remained free of a tattoo.

It was just a dream.

“Yeah.” She mumbled, inhaling deeply. “Sorry to wake you.”

He’s still staring at her as he repeats, “you were screaming.”

“Apparently.” Comes her response, but looking at him, Y/N realizes he was more worried than he’d let on. “You wanna come in?” She asks, opening her door wider.

Wordlessly, he enters, slipping past her and into the room. Zuko immediately looks to her bed, the sheets are messily tossed across it, spilling onto the floor. Some of her pillows had also found their way onto the floor as well. The thin layer of frost that coats her wall reminds Y/N of what Aang had told her earlier.

He’d gone into a state of hibernation within an iceberg, after a storm.

She had just witnessed the day the Avatar went missing. In her dreams. Or maybe it wasn’t her dreams, how could she dream such a thing up, and so vividly?

It felt like she had been there.

Y/N realized her list of problems was growing rather rapidly at this point as she looked up at Zuko, who had already been staring at her, opening and closing his mouth as he searched for the best words before he finally said, “you wanna talk about it?”

He’d never been good at comfort, Y/N knew this, and the fact that he was even offering brought on a new wave of emotions for Y/N as she extended her arms outward, hoping he’d understand.

Zuko’s cheeks flushed, and he made his way towards her, allowing Y/N to wrap her arms around his neck as his came around her waist. He was stiff in the hug, and Y/N wasn’t shocked by this, though she was shocked he agreed to a hug in the first place.

She found comfort in the warmth of his arms as she spoke, “I’m fine.”

And maybe those words provided comfort for the both of them.

But her mind was swirling with thoughts, and Y/N can’t help but feel distressed as she realizes her list of problems won’t stop growing. She’d have to deal with mastering Airbending now, though the entire culture was wiped out, and most valuable artifacts had long since been stolen from the Air Temples and sold for who knew how much. The only other person who could teach her Airbending was the enemy, and someone she’d have to chase down.

That someone being Aang, who she appeared to have some odd connection with, one that Y/N couldn’t understand at all. For some reason, his past was appearing in her head, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Then there was the fact that she might have to worry about returning to the Fire Nation should they actually manage to capture Aang, years ahead of schedule. And if they did return to the Fire Nation, Y/N would have a lot of explaining to do. Even if Y/N wouldn’t die at the hands of the Fire Lord, she might die by Zuko’s hand instead.

Her final problem was Zuko.

Yeah. He was a big problem. In more ways than one.

Y/N was only reminded of this fact as she was practically dragged out of bed the following morning to help handle the ship repairs that were very necessary given how much damage the ship had taken during the skirmish with the Avatar. Zuko had barged into her room, and Y/N wondered when he left last night, as he was now fully dressed and the sun was out. Neither of them mentioned this though, and nobody on board mentioned her little incident, thankfully. Though Y/N had a feeling that was because Zuko had threatened them, she didn’t approve of this possibility, but for once, she was grateful for it.

With a sigh, she descended down the ramp of the ship, heading towards Iroh. Y/N couldn’t help but feel worried that Zuko wasn’t in sight, he had a tendency to make poor decisions, considering the fact that Y/N was pretty much his impulse control.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Iroh greeted, beaming at her. “Lovely day isn’t it?”

Thus far, her day had gone pretty bad, considering she had woken up screaming, but Y/N nodded in agreement nonetheless, “yeah. This port seems to have a lot to offer. I might go shopping a bit.” Though this didn’t sound very ideal as she recalled what had happened the last time she’d visited a port market. Being held at knife point was not one of her favorite memories, nor was the fear that had swallowed her whole that day for several reasons.

Y/N had tried to avoid markets since then.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Comes a voice from beside her, in the corner of her eye Y/N can make out the figure of someone in Fire Nation garments. Turning, she quickly realizes who it is. General Zhao, one of the higher ranking members within the Fire Nation.

Y/N hated him.

He made his way over to her and Iroh, and bowed his head to the older man, “the Dragon of the West. An honor to meet you.” Though, as he speaks these words, Y/N has a feeling that he doesn’t truly mean them, given his rather condescending tone. Iroh regards him with a more respectful tone, his brow raised on the man’s sudden appearance.

Maybe murder is the answer.

General Zhao turned to her, “Miss L/N, correct?”

Y/N nodded, a tight lipped smile on her face, “yes. You’re General Zhao, no?”

He returned her smile, which she suspected was as fake as hers, before responding, “that would be me. I believe I recall your strategies helping us win a few battles.”

“Actually, her strategies have helped the Fire Nation win dozens.” Y/N sighs as she realizes Zuko has arrived, and the look on the General’s face makes her wonder what he’s hiding. “Y/N is a valuable asset.”

The General raises a brow at Zuko’s words, “then why isn’t she in the famed War Room at the palace?”

It’s a silent reference to Zuko’s banishment, and everyone knows it. “As Prince Zuko’s right hand, I’ve joined him in the...” Y/N faked a grimace as she tried to diffuse the situation, “unsuccessful hunt for the Avatar.”

This seems to satisfy the General, the fact that Zuko has failed, but Y/N had a feeling Zuko was glad she had lied in regards to the Avatar as his hand comes to the small of her back. “If you’ll be excusing us, we have repairs to tend to.”

“Yes.. might I ask what could have caused that damage?”

Y/N was starting to wonder if she should write out an actual list of excuses, such a thing would be helpful for moments like this, “we ran into a glacier in the South Pole.” Zuko explained nonchalantly.

“Why don’t you join me on my ship while you wait? We could have a nice cup of tea.” The General suggested, though Y/N already knew he was baiting both Zuko and Iroh.

The way Iroh lit up at the mention of tea was rather obvious, and he quickly exclaimed, “sounds like a wonderful idea!” Though Y/N appreciated the action, since Zuko was acting rather suspicious.

Y/N wasn’t shocked when the General found out they’d discovered the Avatar, and she wasn’t shocked when Zuko challenged him to an Agni Kai, just disappointed. But Y/N was definitely angry when her own name was mentioned in the Agni Kai.

The two stood across from each other as General Zhao spoke, “when I win, I will be taking Miss L/N, and the rest of your crew. Along with any information you have in regards to the Avatar.”

If looks could kill, Y/N would’ve ended the lives of both the General and Zuko as she glared at them, though her attention was mostly on Zuko, who stood in front of her. “You can’t just bet me like I’m some sort of object.” She hissed at him, “if you lose-”

“I’m not losing you.” He responded, and Y/N doesn’t miss the way his cheeks flush as he clears his throat when he realizes what the sentence sounds like. Y/N found it funny that he still found time to be embarrassed despite the violent situation at hand. “Or the crew.” He adds, though the look from his Uncle causes him to look away.

Y/N scoffs in response, trying to ignore the burning in her own cheeks, “I’ll kill you if he doesn’t.” She grumbles, leaning against the railing of the ship. But it’s an empty threat, they both know this, they also both know that Y/N is very capable of killing him.

When the fight begins. Y/N wouldn’t deny that she was shocked when she’d actually witnessed how much Zuko had improved in the past few years, under Iroh’s guidance. Though the General was certainly talented, Zuko skillfully dodged his blasts of fire, leaving Y/N to wonder how much Zuko could’ve possessed had he always been under Iroh’s charge.

Life would’ve been very different.

It doesn’t last as long as she anticipated, and Y/N wouldn’t deny that she didn’t think the odds were in Zuko’s favor, even as he dealt the final strike. Y/N was sure Iroh was practically beaming with pride as he watched his nephew win the Agni Kai, that and since he’d spared Zhao’s life.

She certainly wouldn’t have.

And the way he turns around to strike Zuko, even after losing, makes Y/N wish she had been the one in the Agni Kai in the first place as she steps in front of the blast. She parts her hands, directing the fire in opposite directions before a sword of fire is clear in her hands, the tip held against the General’s throat. Iroh had pushed Zuko behind him protectively, and Y/N stared down Zhao, though she can’t see Zuko, she can practically feel his anxiety.

The General has been bested, and yet he’s grinning at her as he says, “so you are as good as they say.”

Y/N decides she doesn’t really want to know what they say as she responds, “stay down. Or you’re dead.” The sword of fire dissipates into the air, and Y/N begins to walk towards Zuko and Iroh.

“Your talent is being wasted.” He calls out as she leaves, but Y/N ignored him, smacking Zuko upside the head as she moves ahead of him, though she remains alert.

Zuko can’t help but feel as though the man is right.

A/N: everytime i start a multipart fic i always gotta write a really short part one because its like the pilot but then part two is like hi im too many words

anyways i hope you all enjoyed it! im trying here lol its 4AM, who needs sleep, i do my best work sleep deprived.

PART 3

taglists[lmk if you want to be added or removed via comments or askbox]

home: @toobsessedsstuff @x-a-delama-x @haylaansmi @a-hopeless-fan @danicalifxrnia

zuko: @outerxorbit @shawni-h @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @celamoon @savemesteeb @shephard17895 @ijustwannabecanadian

atla: @bubblebars @jada-cleo @Art-flirt @the-deli-meat

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x you #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra #atla zuko x reader #zuko atla x reader #atla prince zuko x reader #prince zuko atla x reader #home pt2

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frenchphobic · 3 years

Text

long fucking post on why a c!dream is a shitty person and probably should not have a redemption because it is unpog

honestly i just want to refute dream apologists thats why im making this post. i think that dream as a villain is interesting but i think that trying to make him out to be secretly a good guy is just bad ngl. also /roleplay and all

tw for abuse and mentions of suicide

dream as a villain

dream is a villain. he is chaotic evil according to wilbur, deliberately does not stream to appear less sympathetic (and yet), and is set up as an antagonist to tommy who bears the title ‘hero’. dream is not a good person, no matter how you look at it or try to justify his actions.

‘but he wants to unite everyone to be a big family :((’ the ends dont justify the means believe it or not. having a vaguely positive goal does not excuse the actions you’ve done. it also goes hand and hand with saying dream is correct for punishing tommy the way he did because he acted up. if i socked you across the face and then suddenly said ‘sorry there was a roach on ur face’ does that make it okay? probably not i still punched you, enacting an unnecessary amount of violence. thats a very simple analogy i will admit and there are more complex comparisons. another example off the top of my head is say a child just scribbled all over you walls with crayons. would hitting them be a justified answer? if u said hes thats really fucked of u go seek help u loon. violence as a punishment is very toxic, just because it gets the job done does not mean it is okay. at the end of the day, you still committed this act and the harm you caused is real, having a good motive doesnt suddenly make it okay.

‘but tommy causes all of the conflict’ the disk war wasnt even caused by tommy, it was sapnap and then tommy got involved. and the reason why tommy even caused conflict was because of the discs, because he wanted them back. and most of the time there was a level of antagonism from another party, such as schlatt exiling him, dream taking the disks in the first place, dream threatening l’manberg. and if dream wanted to end the conflict so badly, why didnt he just give tommy back his disks? tommy upfront said everything started with the disks, so he wants them back so he could end the conflict. notice how after tommy got his disks back he has been staying out of conflict, apologizing to everyone, and the only bad thing hes done is try to scam people but everyone does that. this would have been the most peaceful option, yet dream chose the path that would further antagonize tommy which then draws everyone else into conflict. why did dream need to have leverage over tommy so badly? why did he want to hold power over tommy so badly? its because of control, and that’s ultimately dreams end goal. sure he wants a big server family, but would said family have a free will?

‘but dream is sad’ the thing is dream is completely at fault for everything that happened to him. he pushed away sapnap (and george ig). he tried to take control over the server and their possessions. literally everything that happened to tommy. literally everything involving ranboo. villains can be sympathetic, i am not arguing against that. but it does not mean that they should be left off the hook. that doesnt mean u should ignore the shit theyve done because ‘oh no theyre sad’ because it doesnt make anything better. dream had this shit coming for him.

now people also skirt around calling dream an abuser. which is fair ig, its a very loaded word. its much easier to say manipulated. that being said, dream can classify as abusive. and no, tommy is not abusive. abuse is about control and a power imbalance. dream has power over tommy, but tommy does not have power over dream, at least not in the way dream does. he’s taking back power to stand up for himself, dream uses power to control.

the reasons i listed for why dream is from the Domestic Abuse Intervention Project so if u want a source on that, there you go.

using coercion or threats: dream often threatened tommy, such as the pit thing and often employed violence on him. while normally this could be attributed to Normal Minecraft Player Go Smack. minecraft mechanics cannot always translate to real world since violence is pretty normal in minecraft however we also need to consider the context of the scene. dream gave an order, tommy refused, dream applies violence, tommy submitted. thats why its a threat, it has tangible effects that can correlate to real life.

using intimidation: dream blew up logsteadshire as a punishment. dream also destroyed tommys items anytime he visited. dream also hit tommy with his axe i believe. he killed mushroom henry, one of tommys pets.

Using Emotional Abuse: dream guiltripped the shit out of tommy for just hiding things and pinning the blame on tommy for just wanting his own private items. he definitely played mind games on tommy, pretending to be his friend. honestly i probably dont even need to go as in depth because it was so obvious.

Using Isolation: putting him in exile in the first place. destroying the bether portal so no one could visit tommy anymore. i really dont think i need to expand upon that.

Minimizing, Denying, and Blaming: dream in tommys stream when he got trapped said that exile wasnt that bad. he does shift the blame onto tommy for logsteadshire being blown up, even though dreams reaction was entirely unjustified for not listening and hiding.

Using Economic Abuse: see this is where i attempt to parallel minecraft mechanics to real life. obviously, there is no monetary system in place, so when i mean economic, i will use valuables such as armor, food, etc in place of currency. the idea behind economic abuse is to limit the victim’s resources so that they are dependent on the abuser and cannot escape. dream only really allowed tommy to have the armor he gave him while not giving access to armor so he does not regain a sense of power, and in the prison stream, dream holds all the potatoes which puts him in a position of power over tommy. this argument is more ambiguous i feel cause the whole minecraft mechanics thing is kinda weird so u don’t necessarily have to take this part in.

i feel like i need to emphasize this very strongly because dream is not a good person. abuse cannot and should not be a response to someone. its an awful mentality to have. i just want to prove the point that dream is not a good person, his reasons absolutely do not justify his actions.

what makes a good redemption

redemption arcs are tricky. when done right they are great. when done poorly, its a slap in the face. rn im going to establish a formula to what makes a good redemption with an example.

the most well known example of a good redemption is zuko from atla. first, its the magnitude of what theyve done and why. zuko did commit some shitty actions, since he was in a position of power in the fire nation but its because he is a child being abused and wanted to regain honor. zukos real awful acts was season 1 and the whole betrayal thing. thats not to say that zukos actions suddenly are okay, he did shitty things. but its something that can be traced to a higher entity or seem less malicious then the other villains. the thing also about the magnitude of actions is that there is a certain point of atrocities that there is no redemption. some people simply cannot be redeemed because the actions they commit are so ingrained in their character or the action itself has serious moral issues that it would just be wrong.

the next is acknowleding what they did was wrong. a genuine reflection on the self and analyzing what they did and why it was not okay. zuko realized what he did to uncle iroh was bad for example. he turned his back on his father, realizing he didnt and shouldnt seek acknowledgment from someone as heinous as him. its pointing out your actions and going ‘hey, this wasnt right i should not have done this’ and not even excusing ur actions. its also going straight for the root of the problem and figuring out to stamp it from the source. just because a character is sad does not mean they are reflecting, sometimes they are attempting to garner pity. it has to be direct and clear acknowledgement of the injustice.

and finally, an important part about redemption arcs is the actual redemption part. its when you make amends. zuko made amends with katara by trying to help her get revenge, he fought against the fire nation and tried to make things more peaceful in his rule. he apologized to iroh. an important part of the amends section is that it does have to be a genuine desire to change and become a better person, not to change a person’s perception of you. the thing is u cant expect a person youve hurt to forgive you. you cant expect people to be sympathetic towards you nor should u attempt to make urself sympathetic. u shouldnt be expecting a pat on the back or an award. redemption is about internal and character change.

why dream should not be redeemed

ive already established the key points to a good redemption (imo) but heres where dream falls short. his actions are extremely heavy so redemption may not even really be possible. abuse is not something you can wave off so it does cross to the point of fucked up. acknowledgement of what he did was wrong? all he said was that he changed, yet never explained why he changed or was too vague. he needed to label specifically what he did and bring it up. attempting to make amends? he’s been doing the exact opposite in fact he continues to manipulate tommy and ranboo. its not a genuine change. he is still repeating the cycle and has given no indication of ceasing. at the moment he does not have any signs of redemption.

and the thing is most of the attention around a dream redemption comes from either justifying his motives (which i do want to emphasize does not make anything suddenly okay) and because he is sad in prison sad face. these are not good reasons. its gonna pain me severely to bring this up but snape from harry potter does have some form of sad character ig yet he very much abused his authority to bully children as old as 11 just because he said ‘aight gonna die’ doesnt suddenly make his general bigotry and abuse suddenly okay there is a threshold. again im so sorry for using harry potter as an example none were coming to mind and i needed a popular one i do not like harry potter please dont say i do i would pass away.

and the last thing to consider is the audience. keep in mind that the audience is composed of minors and while yes there are adults, minors are the main component of the fandom. keep in mind that there are quite a few people who can relate to tommys character because they might be in the same position or have gone through his experiences. tell me what kind of message does it send to that audience that abusers can be redeemed. this is not a narrative u should push to this audience in these situations and the writers are seemingly aware of it. remember how in exile tommy spiraled into a suicidal mentality? consider how fucked of a message it would be if he just committed suicide instead of escaping abuse and attempting to recover from his experiences. tommy did an excellent job in not going that route and having a message of ‘it will not get better’. its the same thing here. victims are not obligated to care for or forgive their abuser, and portraying an abuser as sympathetic might fuck with the message a lot, even change their perception in that ‘oh, maybe my abuser was right, maybe they had a reason for treating me the way they did’. this is not to say that every victim watching this will internalize this message, but people also look up to these characters. there can be a degree of influence from the story onto oneself and thats the dangerous part.

conclusion

all in all dream is a shitbag asshole and probably shouldnt get a redemption because it would not be pog thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken

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standard-muse · 4 years

Text

What happened to Rey?

Rey was honestly one of my favorite characters coming out of TFA, but I couldn’t figure out why I was walking out of TROS feeling like there was something off about her. I decided to dive into a character study to see what the issues were. That’s when I realized the unbelievable character regression we witnessed in TROS. I know I’m not the first one to notice this or comment on it, but here are some of the key elements I noticed.

Rey’s Wardrobe: Rey’s wardrobe in the first two movies does an interesting thing. She starts off in an off-white outfit, very similar to the looks we see on Anakin in TPM and Luke in ANH. This signals the beginning of all three of their stories. Each character begins as a child and is inexperienced and naïve in their training and maturity. Then, we move to the second movie. Rey progresses to cool grays, Anakin movies to a series of deep blues, browns and black; and Luke also moves to a gray color scheme. This signals the growth, the changes, the rise in maturity and knowledge, and signals the step that they are no longer in that place of innocence and adolescence. This matches what we see on screen in ESB as Luke dives deep into his training, Anakin goes on his first solo mission in AOTC, and Rey trains with Luke in TLJ – it fits perfectly.

Then, we get to the third movie. And here’s where the problems begin with the choices they made with her character. In ROTS Anakin is wearing all black, he has a gloved hand -- his wardrobe not only signals his completion into maturity but also foreshadows his eventual turn to Vader. Luke is also wearing all black, at one point he has a cloak, and his wardrobe shows the struggle and trials he’s been through. Luke is no longer the same man he was in ANH. Famously, Luke’s all black wardrobe raises the question of “will he turn to the dark side like his father?” And after he refuses, we see the white lining to understand that he was always good on the inside. If we were to follow this trend (since Star Wars is supposed to rhyme), Rey should have been wearing dark colors. A darker color would have also been a nice callback to the teasing question we had with Luke, but instead the question would have been “Will we see Rey join Kylo on the Sith throne?” Instead, what we got was a blindingly white outfit that was identical to her TFA outfit. Not only does this symbolically point to a regression in her character and the work and training she’s gone through, the stark white paints her as an innocent – a pure creature that is untouched and has a naivety about her and her experiences. More than that, it’s almost identical to the outfit she wears in the flashback when her parents leave, telling us that after the acceptance we witness in TLJ that her parents are gone and her place is ahead of her instead of behind, she’s suddenly regressed back to waiting for her parents to return to her. This outfit did not suite the Rey that we left in TLJ who showed development and experience.

Rey’s Hair: It’s been a common theory that the reason Rey has her 3-bun hair style is because it’s the same hair she had when her parents left; and the reason she kept it was so they could recognize her if they returned. This ties into the same point made that she is wearing the same outfit she had as a little girl so they could recognize her too. The irrational hope that even as she knows (as Kylo unlocks this memory within her) that her parents are gone, she still won’t let it go. The problem with this hair choice for TROS is that Rey had already moved passed this way of thinking. In TLJ we see his beautiful moment of her accepting Kylo’s words to “Kill the past so you can be who you were meant to be”, seconds later after this scene she dives into water (i.e. a rebirth or baptism) and comes out with her hair down. This was beautifully done and was a great way to show the big step Rey had just taken in her character journey. Not only that, but immediately after she lets her hair down, she reaches out to Kylo again and they admit to each other that they’ll never let the other person be alone (i.e. a new family). Unfortunately, the writers of TROS decided not to follow up on this, and instead her character goes back to the same little girl hairstyle she’s had since she was a young child. This felt like Rey tacking a Padawan braid in her hair after she had already ceremoniously cut it off. There was no excuse or reason to justify it either other than that she reverted to a child like state.

She was living with Leia, the Princess from Alderaan, the place with a culture famous for their braids. Would it not have made infinitely more sense for Rey to be sporting an Alderaan-like braided hairstyle? Not only would that have helped TROS’s “New-Found Family” theme they were poorly trying to convey, but it also would have emphasized the relationship and connection between Rey and Leia. It would have been an easy way to show the audience that Rey and Leia had bonded, without them having to film it (which they couldn’t have anyways).

Rey’s Staff and Saber: Now, Rey’s staff has been with her since the first moments of TFA. She relentlessly carries it around with her all across Jakku and it’s her main form of protection. This makes total sense in the TFA timeline. However, about halfway through TLJ we see her shift her attitude towards the staff. There is a moment on Ahch-To where she’s practicing with it, she stops, and instead shifts to using the legacy saber for her training. Not only that, but during her fight with Luke she uses the staff for a moment, only to quickly drop it in favor of the same saber. After which point, she never uses it again in TLJ. By the beginning of TROS, after we’ve clearly seen the legacy saber working and her using it, it makes no sense for her to continue carrying around the staff. The staff was a symbol of her time on Jakku, it was her main weapon of choice before she became a Jedi and before she joined the Resistance. After she goes on her journey for a little bit, in TLJ she moves past that, she sets it aside in favor of the saber since that is where her future is. However – in TROS she inexplicably goes back to carrying it around like a safety blanket. It's another tether to her childhood that the writers insisted on keeping around even though it had no purpose. She uses it one time with Zorii Bliss, but even then in a second she swaps it out for the saber. There was no purpose for her to have this staff with her and more often then not, it hinders her ability to use her saber, the true Jedi weapon. In one scene—ridiculously—she carrying around the staff, the saber, the sith dagger, Han’s blaster, and Chewie’s crossbow and bandolier. She looked like the character from Jumanji with the giant backpack that is just known as the weapons valet.

As for the saber and how it relates to her character regression… In TFA we hear Maz Kanata say “This lightsaber belonged to Luke, and his father before him, and now it calls to you.” She then proceeds to use the lightsaber to defeat Kylo Ren and the Praetorian Guards all on her own. She’s trained with it, it flies into her hand when she calls to it, and she retrieved it after Luke threw it away on Ahch-To. This was Rey’s saber. However, in TROS we get this perplexing line of her returning the saber to Leia (who never owned it?) and saying she’ll earn it again one day. This was wrong on so many levels. Not only did Rey already earn this lightsaber, and it called out to her in Maz’s castle and on Starkiller; but the fact that she doesn’t even assume she’s worthy of holding a lightsaber means her Jedi’s journey is in it’s infant stage in the final film of the trilogy. Compare this to our other main protagonists Anakin and Luke, they’re both masters (sorry, Anakin) at their craft and proficient and confident with a saber. Anakin defeats Dooku when Obi-Wan can’t and Luke has built his own saber and takes on an entire barge of criminals. They’re both exactly where they should be in their Jedi/Hero’s journey at this point in the story. But, in TROS, Rey takes an epic step backwards from all the groundwork done in TFA and in TLJ and is put in the place of a Padawan. Where she should have been prepared to fill in the shoes of master, she’s not even fit to carry a lightsaber without permission from a parental figure. What’s worse, it is brought to our attention that Rey is trying to earn this saber, and in the end, she ends up just burying it in the sand and making a new one anyways. In a weird way this feels like she gave up on that idea entirely, or failed at it, and instead decided to make a new one because in the end she didn’t feel worthy to use it.

Rey’s Maturity/Emotional Mindset: For lack of better word, Rey’s maturity in this movie takes a huge step back as well. Again, if we look at our other protagonists Anakin and Luke, they both start off as young, naïve, and somewhat whiny. Rey, blessedly, never whined but we do see a great amount of youthfulness and child-like behaviors from her in TFA. She slides around on sand dunes, she runs away in Maz’s castle when she gets scared, she plays around with a x-wing helmet. This is the perfect place for her character to begin and balances great with the parallel of Luke and Anakin who both are in similar states. Then, in TLJ, like Luke and Anakin, Rey matures. She’s no longer playing around, she faces Luke head on and fights for what she knows is right, she doesn’t shy away when she’s scared, she enters into a relationship much like Anakin did – signaling her maturity and stepping into adulthood. Rey in TLJ grows up so much in the best possible way. After her hair comes down, and after she shares the hut moment with Kylo, she steps up fully and makes the choice to go and save him, moving away from her master to go on the journey on her own. She faces Snoke with her chin held high and doesn’t cower or get persuaded by him. She never lashes out irrationally and is poised and dignified the entire time. We see this again at the end with Kylo and her during the last force-bond scene of TLJ. This is after they’ve already parted ways and after she realizes he’s taken on the mantle of Supreme Leader. What we see is Rey standing there, poised and dignified, mature and calm as she looks him dead in the eye and closes the door on him. I’ve seen 50-year-old adults less mature than Rey is in that moment – and it is a wonderful moment of her character growth.

This was mentioned by @Forcebond-Shenanigans and I wanted to touch on it a little bit more. Rey in TROS acts completely irrational to Kylo up until…well Exegol basically. In one particular scene, Kylo is calmly standing there (in the weirdest framed shot ever, but that’s besides the point) talking to her normally on his ship, warning her that Palpatine is trying to kill her, and Rey immediately pulls out her lightsaber, bares her teeth, and threatens him. In fact, any time he is present around her, she attacks even though he never tries to attack back. Kylo, in every scene, is just trying to have a normal adult conversation and Rey—for some reason—keeps trying to fight him. It’s undoubtedly immature and goes against everything we’d seen between the two of them in TLJ.

This. Does. Not. Make. Sense.

In TLJ she’s already established a close, intimate connection with Kylo. She’s told him her deepest thoughts and feelings and he’s listened calmly. She already knows she can sit down and have a normal, easy, rational conversation with him even after what happens in Snoke’s throne room. It might have made sense for her to lash out at him if he too had his lightsaber out, or was threatening her, or doing something else sinister. But even when he’s trying to help her by letting her know Palpatine is after her, she still lashes out at him. This, in no way, fits the Rey we saw at the end of TLJ who was able to calmly close a door on Kylo without so much as creasing her forehead at him. Her attitude towards him for 95% of this movie feels like we’re stuck in the middle of the Starkiller Battle.

Rey’s Hero Journey/The Tatooine Ending: For Anakin and Luke, we see their hero’s journey come full circle within their trilogies. Anakin starts off as a child, learns the Jedi ways, becomes proficient at it, and by the end of ROTS is ready to lead the next generation (He just…takes a detour to the dark side instead). Luke as well, begins as child-like figure, learns the Jedi ways, moves beyond the point of needing a master, and by the end is ready to pass the baton to the next generation of Jedi. Rey begins as a child, learns the ways of the Jedi, becomes very skilled at it…then goes back to needed a teacher, is unworthy of her lightsaber, needs the help of other Jedi to fight off Palpatine, and ends the movie going back to the home of her masters who were also a sort of parental pair to her (which is weird, but for other reasons).

Now, Rey was put in this place of taking on the mantel of the Last Jedi. She inherits that from Luke after Luke passes. Presumably, that set her up to lead the next generation of Jedi as that was what Snoke was trying to prevent Luke from doing. She is supposed to pass on that knowledge so that the Jedi can survive. However, by the end of her story she’s simply…not ready. Comparatively, if we look at either Anakin or Luke, they were ready to pass the baton to the next generation. Luke had proven himself to the point where even Yoda says, “No more training do you require.” And Obi-Wan says to Anakin, “I’ve taught you everything I know, and you’ve become a far greater Jedi than I ever hope to be.” Both our protagonists in the OT and PT are clearly shown to be at the end of their training and ready to lead the next generation. Rey, on the other hand, begins TROS still acting like a padawan who’s trying to earn her lightsaber. This was such a bad writing choice as we now finish this story with Rey not in the place of being able to adequately pass that knowledge along to others, and even worse, not even ready to be considered a master at her own craft herself. This would be like Anakin ending the trilogy in a Pre-AOTC state of being. It’s unresolved, it’s unfinished. They backtracked her journey so much she’s not even close.

To further this blunder, we get this extremely bizarre scene on Tatooine. It’s weird from the second we see the ship land and it gets weirder every second we’re there. Rey, who should be a mature leader, stepping into the shoes of Luke and Leia, ready to lead the next generation of Jedi as a master is…sliding around in the sand like she did on Jakku. One might call this a cute callback to TFA, but in a lot of ways all this did was further drive home the blatant character regression we see in Rey. She is now ending her story in the exact same way she started it in Jakku. Comparatively, If we look at Luke in ANH we see him in white, dreamily standing and looking at the twin suns. At the end of ROTJ, we see him dignified and powerful as he watches the force-ghosts. Luke by the end also has a new outfit on that’s drastically different than the one he started with, he’s surrounded by his friends and family, and you can see the change in him. Anakin in TPM compared to ROTS is even more extreme, the little boy is now a full-grown man, a man who got married, who had kids, and is now second in command to the Galactic Empire as he’s clothed in metal. Rey, in TFA starts off alone on a dessert planet, clothed in white, dreamily looking up at the sky. And ends her journey in TROS alone on a dessert planet, clothed in white, dreamily looking up at the sky.

And as if that wasn’t strange enough, the scene gets even more bizarre. At the end of her story, Rey should be confident in who she is, she should be taking on the mantel of master she should be leading others, and she should be at the point in her life where she’s not looking for her parents so she can be a kid again, but instead is thinking about starting her own family (not saying right away, but that’s where her direction should be). This is the natural place for somebody who’s now fully an adult and has gone through all the growth she did. By the end of her story she should have fully replaced her master’s roles and would be taking in her own padawan. Instead of looking for a parental figure, she should be in the place of being a parental figure.

And yet, instead of that, what we’re left with is a moment where somebody asks Rey who she is and she inexplicably turns to her metaphorical parents, as if asking for permission, and then tells this lady she’s a Skywalker. And as much as I’d like to think she took this name because it was Ben’s name and she was claiming herself to be his wife, unfortunately I think the reason she took it was because she was still, still stuck on trying to replace this parent figure in her life.The issue here isn’t with her choosing a new family, which presumably was the point of her story in TROS even though it was botched and spliced together, the issue was that the writers decided to end her story with Luke and Leia, in the weirdest way, almost taking her in as their kid. It might have worked if there was the whole family of Skywalkers there and she was embracing everybody equally, but the fact we only see Luke and Leia (who she calls her masters and who act as the parental figures to her in this movie), and the fact she doesn’t choose Solo or some other new name, one could argue the point that this wasn’t a new name by marriage or a new name by embracing a new identity, but decidedly was Rey stepping into the roll of Luke and Leia’s adopted daughter. The complete opposite of where you’d expect her character growth to end up (e.g. moving forward and starting her own family and being the leader of that family), Rey finishes her story by stepping into the role that is almost always reserved to the role of a child. And it makes no sense for our main protagonist to end up here.

Not only did Rey’s character stay stagnant throughout this movie, in a lot of ways it made a complete 180 to the point where if felt like we were watching TFA Rey.

Overall, this left me feeling unbelievably frustrated at TROS and the disservice it did to all of it’s characters – but Rey in particular. She is such a great character and we could have seen so much more from her than this. She deserved so much more than this. She earned it. Rey was a strong character and a wonderful inspiration to many people and this movie completely sacrificed her story for the sake of fan service. I have never cried more during a movie than I did during this one and all of that can be traced to how bad I felt for all these characters and what the writers did to them. I hope one day we can see them again but in the hands of somebody who takes care of them.

#rey #tros spoilers #reylo #rey nobody

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

Text

i found the one, he changed my life (what now?) [i’d love it if we made it, pt. 3]

a/n: holy SHIT i am so happy about the way this turned out, this continues the story of college AU!tony dealing with his ex and the pressure he puts on himself to be honest with his friends. (title from “what now” by rihanna) TW: discussion of abusive relationships, mention of surgery, unhealthy/stalking behaviors, and i think that’s it but pls lmk if there’s anything else i should tag

summary: “He’s obsessed with you [...] I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky elaborated, leaving Anthony at a loss for words.

“It’s a nice day, seasonal allergies aside,” Anthony remarked.

“I would put flowers in your hair and be all cute and shit but I’m trying not to make you sneeze,” Stephen replied. “That would be unfortunate.”

Anthony laughed lightly and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. “You can still pet my head though, that would be nice.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at subtlety?” Stephen asked, beginning to play with Anthony’s hair.

“I think you did this morning,” Anthony replied. “Because you’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?” Stephen teased, batting his eyelashes.

“It’s one of many reasons,” Anthony said, a soft smile on his face. “It is really nice out though.”

“Listen I know I’m always on time, but can we make an exception today?” Christine sat across from the couple, her auburn hair made extra bright by the sunlight as she pulled it out of her face. “Sorry I’m late.”

“The way that you’re literally not sorry at all makes that apology for me,” Stephen said. “Don’t worry about it though, we’ve just been hanging out. Where’s Hope?”

“Inside, for some reason,” Christine replied with a shrug.

“Probably because it’s allergy season,” Anthony commented, rolling his eyes as he sneezed again.

“He complains, despite begging me to sit outside with him,” Stephen added.

“That doesn’t sound like me, but go off I guess,” Anthony replied, picking up his phone. “Hey Rhodey, what’s up?”

“Are you running errands by chance?” Rhodey asked.

“Nope, I’m sitting outside with Steph and Christine,” Anthony said. “Why, do you need something?”

“I was just going to ask if I could send you a short list of things I wanted. Not a big deal but I’m out of cereal,” Rhodey replied.

“Text it to me anyway, I don’t think I’m going out but if I do I’ll get whatever you want,” Anthony said with a shrug.

“You’re the best Tones. By the way are you feeling better?” Rhodey asked.

“A little bit. It’s nice just sitting outside,” Anthony replied. “I dunno. I’m not thinking about it.”

“Fair enough. Enjoy the fresh air, don’t worry about the cereal though! See you later.”

“Bye Rhodey, everyone say bye!”

Christine and Stephen shouted their goodbyes as Anthony ended the call.

“You good?” Christine asked kindly.

“Yeah, sorta.” Anthony shrugged again. “I just didn’t sleep a lot last night, so that wasn’t fun. I’ve been stressed out about… things. Turns out it actually is weird to have one of your friends dating your ex.”

Christine hummed. “Tea. I thought there was something bothering you, like more than just the awkwardness. I can read you well enough by now. So what’s wrong?”

“Honestly I don’t want to tell you this exact minute because I feel like the only person who should hear this privately is Bucky. I’ll have to see how I feel after I talk with him, and if I’m okay then I’ll probably tell everyone in the group all at once. I just don’t want to repeat the same story over and over again, that’s going to wear me down,” Anthony replied. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh my god dude that’s fine! No stress,” Christine rushed to assure him. “You just seem sad and I want to help but I also don’t want you to make yourself feel worse, that’s not fair to you.”

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Christine.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Christine said.

Anthony sneezed again, not seeing the need to reply beyond that. There was just nothing else to say.

“Let’s go inside,” Stephen suggested. “It’s getting kinda gross out anyway.”

“Oh sorry, that’s because I’m out here. I’ll leave.” Anthony jokingly moved to stand up, laughing raucously when Stephen pulled him into a hug before he even stood.

“Nooo, you’re good! You stay,” Stephen replied. “The sun is out because you’re here.”

Anthony blushed and buried his head against Stephen’s collarbone. “Oh hush.”

Christine stood up. “I may as well go inside while you two idiots keep flirting, now my allergies are acting up.”

“You’re not allergic to pollen,” Stephen remarked, standing up and offering Anthony his hand.

“I’m not allergic to most things, but I’m allergic to your bullshit,” Christine quipped. “I feel like I tell you that at least once a week.”

Anthony laughed and stood up, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist.

“In all seriousness, you’re cute together,” Christine continued.

“Oh we know,” Anthony said. “How was your day Christine?”

The trio headed inside as Christine thought about how to answer.

“Honestly I don’t think anything even happened today.” she finally said. “Hope and I had breakfast together and I quite literally ran into Carol in the library. It was nice to catch up with her though because I feel like I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Now that I think about it, I also feel like I haven’t seen Carol in a long time,” Stephen said.

“We didn’t talk for too long since we were in the library, but she seems good,” Christine replied. “I think she and Val are still unpacking so they’ve been focused on that, y’know?”

“Makes sense. Props to them for moving in the middle of the year, that’s too much for me. That’s why I’m making everyone wait until the summer,” Anthony said.

“You’re not making anyone wait, you’re just making sense,” Stephen corrected him. “Moving is stressful enough, I don’t want to deal with it during exam season and neither does anyone else.”

“Can I plan your housewarming party?” Christine asked, opening the apartment door.

“Who said anything about a housewarming party?” Anthony replied.

“Wong said I could throw one once you’re all moved in,” Christine explained. “We don’t have a contract in writing yet, but that’s because—”

“Because I never said you could throw us a party!” Wong shouted from the living room. He was sitting in his usual armchair by the window, half paying attention to whatever show Bucky and an all too familiar blond were watching. “Also Bucky is here again, and he brought a friend.”

“Boyfriend,” Bucky chimed in. “We’re going to dinner soon, I just left my jacket here the other day and then I decided I’d introduce Steve to you guys. So yeah, this is my boyfriend Steve. Steve, this is Christine, Stephen, and I think you know Tony. I heard there’s a history there or something.”

Bucky was trying his best to prematurely make the best of an awkward situation, but Steve was the only one who found any humor in what he said.

The offending blond laughed and nodded, his expression unreadable in a way that made Anthony freeze. He was looking with condescension at their entwined hands, like he didn’t approve of Stephen and Anthony finally being together. With an arrogant sniff, he got off his high horse long enough to respond. “I know him and Stephen, actually. You both look good.”

“Thanks,” Stephen replied, his teeth bared in a forced, blatantly hostile grin.

Anthony rubbed at his eyes, tearing up from the situation and his allergies. “Yeah good to see you too, if you’ll excuse me I need to take some allergy medication.” He couldn’t run and hide in the bathroom fast enough, and he knew everyone in the room could see him trembling.

Stephen let his genuine emotion break through his façade for a moment, frowning as he watched Anthony retreat. His steely look of disapproval returned a minute later as he sat down in the kitchen, eavesdropping on the group’s conversation.

“Mind if I get some water? I didn’t get to hydrate as much today,” Steve asked.

Stephen, pretending to be busy, glared at his phone like he was reading a poorly worded email. He paid little attention to the blond as he bumbled around the kitchen, following Wong’s directions on where to find cups and the Brita and other shit.

“So you’ve finally come back to the city, hm? Tony used to tell me about how you both grew up here and how New York never left you,” Steve asked Stephen. He was making an extremely poor attempt to sound friendly, but all he did was make the med student extremely uncomfortable.

Stephen gave a forced laugh. “Yeah, they couldn’t keep me away.”

“Seems like you couldn’t keep yourself away from Tony either, not with the amount of times he cheated on me with you,” Steve remarked.

“Listen, we both know that’s not true and I barely want to give you the time of day. You know damn well he never cheated on you and I don’t have to justify myself to you. After all, you were the cheater. If you think I’m just going to roll over in my own apartment and let you run your mouth like that, especially knowing how badly you treated my Anthony, then you’ve got another thing coming,” Stephen snapped. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Clearly anyone who thinks I’m aggressive and controlling hasn’t met you,” Steve said, closing the fridge and leaving Stephen fuming in the kitchen.

After 15 minutes of ignoring some small talk, Stephen had had enough. Anthony was still hiding somewhere and Stephen was just over Steve being in his apartment. He was trying not to be too angry, because Bucky didn’t know about how Steve and Anthony’s breakup or relationship went. Stephen couldn’t, and didn’t, blame him.

But Steve was a coward and a jerk, and Stephen wouldn’t touch him with an 11 foot pole. Stephen wouldn’t even get close to him to shove him headfirst out the door, actually.

“I’m gonna be in my room studying if you guys need anything, enjoy your dinner Bucky!” He said, waving at his friends in the living room and pointedly ignoring Steve.

“Thanks man! If you want to hang out later, maybe on a double date or something—”

“Oh I’d love that!” Steve chimed in, unprovoked and uninvited.

“Depends on what Ant’s doing, I know I’m pretty busy tonight but if he wants to go out then we’ll let you know,” Stephen said firmly. He heard the bathroom door open behind him and Anthony’s light footsteps in the hall.

“I think I’ll just run to the bathroom before we leave, if that’s alright?” Steve asked.

“Are you asking me?” Stephen replied, ignoring him and heading in the direction of his bedroom. “Don’t you dare patronize me.”

Anthony was standing nervously outside Stephen’s room, staring at the floor. He looked horrified and meek, pressing his back against the wall and hoping he’d disappear out of Steve’s gaze.

But of course he wasn’t that lucky. Sometimes it felt like he’d never truly get away from the way Steve used to look at him and was apparently still looking at him.

Anthony looked up as Stephen gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey… you alright?”

He forced himself to nod, tears still pooling in his eyes from either anxiety or allergies. Maybe both. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—”

“Oh there you are Tony! Bucky and I are leaving, so I thought I’d say goodbye,” Steve said, lingering in the doorway to the bathroom. “Maybe we could go for a double date later? If you’re allowed to, that is. I always said Strange was a controlling downgrade, didn’t I?”

“Good thing I never listened when you said that, because I’m much happier now,” Anthony muttered.

“Aww, don’t be a bad sport! It’ll be just like the glory days.” Steve appeared to be ignoring his current relationship to flirt with Anthony, stepping out of the doorway and leaning closer (read: too close for comfort) to him.

“I don’t know about that,” Anthony said, his voice taut. “I wouldn’t want to be around you for much longer. Seeing you is already making me think about our… could you call it a relationship?”

“You’re so funny Tony, just as funny as I remember.” Steve sounded like a content house cat as he quite literally purred at Tony. “I miss that humor. I just miss you.”

“I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”

++++

“Not to state the obvious, but I hate that guy,” Stephen muttered, storming into the kitchen a few hours later.

“Is Ant okay?” Wong hadn’t moved from his seat in the living room, except for the fact that he was laying across the armchair sideways and there were three more mystery novels next to him.

“He’s sleeping. Even before all of that shit went down,” Stephen began, gesturing to the air in front of him, “We were outside for long enough that even if he won’t admit it, his allergies are bothering him.”

“How long were you outside for before I came to sit with you guys?” Christine asked.

“Maybe 90 minutes? Long enough to be considered too long,” Stephen replied. “It doesn’t matter. Did you guys eat yet?”

“No, we were waiting on you and Pepper. She said she’d be back by 7,” Christine said.

“What do you want? I’m open to suggestions,” Stephen asked. “I kinda want to make pasta but I know I’m not good enough at it so it wouldn’t make Anthony happy.”

“Don’t be stupid, Stephen. It absolutely would, and you know that,” Christine scolded him. “Do whatever you feel like! And I think pasta sounds nice.”

Stephen nodded. “Fair enough. I’m making ravioli and none of you can stop me. We deserve it.”

“Oh no Stephen don’t do that, don’t make something that you like to cook and that we all like to eat,” Wong teased. “Christine, he’s too powerful, we have to stop him.”

Stephen humorously rolled his eyes. “Anthony is the one who gave me a good recipe, so technically we all have him to thank for enabling me. Except not right now. Let him sleep.”

++++

“Oh by the way, I told Bucky that I’d get coffee with him later and we’re going to talk about whatever the hell happened this weekend,” Anthony said. “Do you want me to bring you back anything while I’m out?”

“Hmm… I don’t think so.” Stephen drew a heart on the back of Anthony’s hand with his thumb, something he noticed himself doing a lot.

Anthony always rewarded him for the gesture with the smallest, shyest smile that Stephen thought was the most adorable thing ever. “Text me if you change your mind, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Stephen smiled back at him, lovingly brushing Anthony’s hair out of his face. “Also if I send you a list will you help me decide on a movie for tonight?”

“Not sure you’re asking the right person, but sure,” Anthony replied.

“That’s subjective. I think I’m asking the right person,” Stephen said. “You’ve never steered me wrong before.”

“I hope I never do.” Anthony pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Stephen’s lips. “But knowing you, you’ll definitely change your mind about wanting a tea or something.”

“If I do, I’ll tell you,” Stephen replied, smiling into the kiss. “Promise. Have a good day, and good luck later.”

“I think I’m going to need it,” Anthony said with a little nervous laugh.

“Would a kiss help your luck?” Stephen couldn’t keep a neutral face. “I never imagined myself saying that. Or getting to kiss you.”

“Stop it, don’t make me blush this early in the day,” Anthony replied. “In all seriousness, I love you. And your kisses are magical, who’s to say they aren’t lucky?”

++++

Anthony couldn’t say whether or not he felt lucky later that day, because the only thing he felt was nervous. Bucky looked just as nervous and sheepish as Anthony did, and his internal monologue had already switched to guilt. They exchanged small talk and pleasantries while they waited for their coffee, their mutual discomfort becoming more and more tangible by the minute.

Most people joked that Anthony talked to hear the sound of his own voice, but today he was so nervous he couldn’t hear himself think. He didn’t know what to say or even where to start. Thankfully, Bucky blurted out a question before Anthony thought about how to start the conversation.

“How long were you two together?”

“Two and a half years, give or take. And I didn’t cheat on him with Stephen.”

“I didn’t think so. I wasn’t even going to ask about that.” Bucky smiled, trying to somehow calm Anthony down with his expression. “Who broke it off?”

“Me. Sometimes I feel like I did it a lot later than I should have, honestly.” Anthony shrugged. “I wasn’t ever happy in that relationship. I wanted to be, and I did everything I could to make it work even at my own expense, but eventually I had to end it. I’m happier now, but sometimes I still… I shouldn’t say any of this to you, not if you’re happy.”

“You know what bothers me, though?”

Anthony wasn’t expecting that. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think he’s over you. And that doesn’t bother me in a jealous sense, I’m not like that, but I feel almost used. Especially after this weekend,” Bucky said.

“What do you mean?” That worried Anthony for a lot of reasons, and he couldn’t decide which one was the most important.

“Tony, he's obsessed with you. The entire time we were driving Sunday night he wouldn’t stop talking about you, to the point where it was weird. I started to feel like he used me to see you,” Bucky replied. “One time I showed him a group picture, this was like six months ago, from that time we went out ice skating and ever since then he’s been pestering me about you. I don’t even think it has anything to do with me, if that makes sense.”

“I’m not following,” Anthony admitted. “Not entirely, anyway.”

“I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky said. “Now as I said it’s not jealousy, I just think it’s a bit disturbing that he’s so hung up on you.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I don’t like that. He didn’t want me to dump him but I had to, there’s no two ways about it. What happened Sunday?”

“We had a disagreement. I told him I felt used and he wasn’t happy about that, but he didn’t deny it either,” Bucky replied. “I was hoping he’d drop the whole thing but I don’t think he’s going to. I don’t think he’s going to ever get over you, honestly.”

“Damn. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.” Anthony nervously ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pull at it. “Um… yeah I don’t really know what to think or what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Bucky admitted. “I really want to try things out with him and see how they continue, but I also don’t think he’s going to change. Now that he’s actually seen you, I feel like it’s only going to be more awkward.”

“Oh about that, I’m sorry I didn’t want to go out the other day,” Anthony said. “I was going to try and make myself power through it, but… just being around him for however long you guys were in the apartment was way too much. I got really anxious and just hid in Stephen’s room. And then, on an unrelated note, I ended up sleeping for 14 hours or something.”

“I’m sorry if I was forceful. I didn’t know how to subtly ask if he was making you uncomfortable in the moment, but I could see it,” Bucky replied. “I don’t blame you.”

Anthony shrugged. “Dude I’m at a loss, generally speaking. I don’t know what to say about everything you just told me, but honestly I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Are you going to see Stephen? I’m meeting Christine, so if you want I’ll walk with you,” Bucky offered.

Anthony nodded. “Sure.”

“I really am sorry, Tony. For everything this weekend, and if something I said upset you after your wisdom tooth surgery,” Bucky said.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been stressing about how to tell everyone about that relationship for too long and the way I felt when I woke up just reminded me of something I still don’t really want to talk about,” Anthony replied. “There’s a lot I’m holding back, even from you, but I’m just not ready to go into all of that yet.”

“I won’t be upset if you tell me,” Bucky tried to comfort him.

“It’s less about that and more the fact that I don’t want to even think about it. I don’t want to think about him,” Anthony said. “I don’t want to hear his voice, or see him, or even hear about him, if I’m being honest. And I feel bad, because I know you love him, but—”

“But you’re my friend, and I care about you. Plus you’re way too polite to be direct when something or someone upsets you and I think that does more harm than good. You just end up keeping everything to yourself, and you don’t have to,” Bucky interrupted. “You don’t have to be a closed book all the time.”

Anthony smiled at that. “Stephen’s said that to me before. I don’t know why, but I like that phrasing. I’m not one to open up in general, even though I trust everyone in our friend group, but this feels like it’s too much to get into the open right now. Someday I’ll be ready, but not today. It doesn’t help that this weekend was honestly too soon.”

“That’s fair man,” Bucky replied. “I don’t have to tell you that Stephen loves the shit out of you, and you deserve that.”

“I could go on and on about Steph probably endlessly,” Anthony said, hiding his face as he blushed.

“Everyone knows that, even people who have never met either of you know that!” Bucky teased. “But honestly, are you okay?”

Anthony shrugged. “Yes and no. I just need time.”

“I understand. And I am really, really sorry about this weekend,” Bucky replied. “Forgive me?”

Anthony shook his head. “Do I need to? It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not, but still… I’m sorry. I hope that means something, at least.”

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @taruyison @chocopiggy @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @merlynthedisasterchild @kitkatfat15 @maya-custodios-dionach @katninjagirl97

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #my ironstrange college au #protective stephen strange #james rhodey rhodes #wong #protective Bucky #james bucky barnes #christine palmer #implied christine/hope #implied valcarol #not steve rogers friendly #implied anti stony #implied anti stucky #ok off to dream about part 4

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birdwonder · 4 years

Text

Bucci Gang | Body Swap Headcanons

|| i’m just chilling w/ my phone right now and im choosing to do my next request later today so for now super lame pt 5 headcanons inspired by the body swap fiasco but like ... let’s say it was a different stand that did it and no one died/is missing.

WARNING — fem s/o ! it’s not too sexual but sorta ? in a comedic way more than spicy. i guess also pt 5 spoilers too !

Bucci Gang | Body Swap Headcanons

Bruno Bucciarati

- When Bruno had stopped stumbling and was no longer disorientated from the enemy’s attack, he was certainly confused as to why no extreme damage had come to him. He was really counting on the sensation of a thousand stab wounds to cover him like a sheet and yet, he felt perfectly fine. Glancing down, he still wanted to check for any externel injuries but his plan was quickly halted when he saw clothing and hands that certainly didn’t belong to him.

- “What... What is this?!” He’s nothing if not confused, much smaller than his own hands patting all around his body until they paused at his ( if he could say that ) chest. In seconds, his face blew into a bright red colour as soon as the realisation of him being in a woman’s body hit. With his clever perception, Bruno had also come to recognise that the clothing he was adorned in was strikingly similar to [F/N]’s, meaning one thing ...

- “Bruno Bucciarati, what the hell are you doing?!”

God, it gave the man whiplash to see his own face scruched up with anger while his body marched towards him. The small pink tint on his own face had confused him however, if that was you then maybe you were just embarrassed of him being in your body or vice versa? Now that he thought about it, he really hoped you hadn’t done anything scandulous as him, not that he suspected you would.

- When you suddenly slapped Bruno’s, or your’s really, hands away from their position, he was quick to understand your fury. He had just technically groped you in a way. “Wait, wait, it’s not as it seems! I’m sorry, [F/N]—”

- After a rushed explanation and excuse for his actions, and a what his theory of the stand’s power was, the two of you agreed that you should start to look for the enemy and get back to your own bodies soon for both of your sakes. Bruno did appreciate the soft comfort he had to grip on temporarily though.

Leone Abbachio

- The drastic change in perspective that Abbachio had five minutes ago to now left him horribly bewildered. Why was everything so much taller now ? He was certain that he wasn’t lying nor sitting down.

- All he could do was confusingly turn around and look up at everything around him to try and figure out what was happening. Was he shrinking? That was a possible answer but why wasn’t he going down any more?

- The answer to his dilemma was clear when you, in his body, approached him frantically, hands gripping his shoulders and having to lean down so that you could both be face to face, inches away from each other. Had your minds not been switched, Abbachio was sure that he would have been a little more flustered than he was dumbfounded. “Abbachio, look at us! Our minds ... they’ve been swapped and I’m— I’m- so tall, holy shit.”

- Poor Abbachio had to watch you do what he had done earlier, looking around the whole area with wide eyes and total shock. You just couldn’t believe how different things looked! Oh, was this how Abbachio saw you? Jeez, maybe you should be more careful with how you part your hair if he can see too much of it.

- His jaw dropped when you started to check him out, pulling at the strings connecting his v-line while peering down to see his chest and stomach. You let out a low whistle, clearly impressed by what you were seeing, “damn your physique is good. I didn’t know you worked out, Abba!” Please kill him now before the embarrassment does first. Again, if your minds had not been swapped then he would be relishing in your praise but it was incredibly hard, and annoying.

- “Stop that, damn it!” He yelled at you, his shame worsening when he realised that his tone didn’t come off nearly as scary as it did when he was in his own body, in fact you were even laughing a little at him. Well, if you wanted to play it like that... Abbachio moved his hands to have one placed on your body’s backside and another on your breast, his anger momentarily diminishing when he squeezed both. Fuck they were soft—

- “Oh hell no!” You cried, now as equally as bashful as Abbachio was. Sure you got a little bit too curious but you weren’t touching his body up! With a huff, you mimicked his move to the extent that you placed both hands on his ass, suddenly pausing when you came into contact with it. “SIR, wHERE IS YOUR ASS?”

Pannacotta Fugo

- He’s fucking dying on the inside; he can’t do this. Someone please take him out of his misery because he can not handle being in the body of the girl he was super into.

- Fugo in all honesty didn’t try anything funny while in your body but the shame of it was too much. On one hand, he was grateful that it gave him a chance to admire the cute little imperfections you had such a scars and small spots on your arms that he hadn’t notice from his usual distance from you, while on the other he was afraid to be stuck like this forever.

- When he finally found you, the idea of you also looking over his body, as he had done with your’s to a respectable extent, flustered him greatly and he struggled to get any words out at first, “we should, uh, really find that enemy stand user. ahem.”

- “Yeah! You’re super cute and all, Panni, but I really want to be back in my own body, it’s more comfortable for me! Plus, your fashion style isn’t really my go to.” You laughed softly at your last comment, taking hold of Fugo’s hand to guide the two of you into a rough guess of a direction to where the enemy stand user could be. Meanwhile, the ‘cute’ comment replayed a thousand times like a broken record in Fugo’s mind, both a faint blush and smile taking over him as he nodded and followed your lead.

- When Mista or Narancia asked him afterwards if he had done any ‘research’ while in your body, he threatened to kill them both as he tried to stab both with cutlery. During that, you were covering your face and internally screaming at the idea of Fugo seeing the more private side of you, especially when you would rather show him on your own accord.

Narancia Ghirga

- Since the situation was a lot less life threatening than the Chariot Requiem one, Narancia was a lot more comedical about it. Sticking his temporary body’s hip out, he placed a hand upon it while another weaved it’s fingers through the hair that could only be called your’s. Narancia batted his eyes exaggeratedly while placing on a high pitch voice, poorly impersonating you.

- “Ooh, Mr Narancia! Please, take me!” He mockingly begged, strutting towards you that in a fashion that made you want to burst out laughing and shrivel up in shame since it was your body that was looking absolutely ridiculous. Wrapping his arms around your neck, it allowed you to notice the height difference that he had to see on a day to day basis but that was hardly a main thought when he started to rub his cheek against your’s. “You’re just so studly and handsome, my body just needs your touch!”

- After a pregnant pause, the two of you erupted into laughter, wheezing and coughing as though you were being choked out. If the stand who had done this to you both wanted you dead, then it was certainly working seeing as you were both soon to die of laughter. Wiping a tear away, your giggles died out and you gently whacked Narancia over the head, which would have been a regret for future you if it was any tougher. “You’re so silly, Narancia, we should be looking for the stand user not messing about!”

- “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he whined, still having to force a few laughs down. “I think my impression of you was pretty good though, right?” He jokingly winked at you only for his expression to falter to surprise when you sent a more flirtatious one back, stroking his cheek faintly while you walked past him to start your search.

- “Oh, it was brilliant, you know what I want so well!~”

Guido Mista

- His actions were incredibly similar to when he realised that he was in Trish’s body, when he instinctively placed his gun into where the front of his pants would be only to realise that it didn’t rest upon his crotch just quite the same.

- After frantically groping at the soft breasts he had seemingly grown and complaining that he was missing the best part of himself, Mista noticed that his own face was looking at him distraught and embarrassed. “Mista... You’re in my body. [F/N]’s.”

- Mista apologised quickly once you said that, now understanding the situation. You both had swapped bodies! How could he have not noticed? Especially when it was your body, something which he had discreetly checked out a few times before, since well c’mon. You were like a goddess.

Speaking of, Mista was sure this was actually a Heaven of some sorts since he had full control over what he did with your body, which was kind of exciting! At least, it would be if you weren’t there to judge his movements.

- “Ugh, Mista you stink,” you complained, raising an arm to your nose to take a whiff only to gag instinctively at the scent that violated your senses. Seriously, who wears a cashmere sweater with a wool hat in Italy? The amount he sweats must be ungodly! The hat was seriously starting to get itchy too, leaving you no choice but to take it off dramatically with a cry from Mista.

- “Hey, I’m not that bad!” The gunslinger argued, snatching the hat from your grasp so he could reach up and force it back onto his hair, hiding the thick curls that had momentarily escaped from their woollen captivity. Scoffing, you turned your nose up and looked to the side, refusing to look at him, “it is and you know it. If we’re stuck like this all day then I’m seriously going to have a shower for you.”

- Mista smirked at that. It was a weird look to see on yourself but it still made you fluster at your own words and his overactive imagination. “Oh? I mean, if you wanted to see my body that bad then you could just ask, babe. I wouldn’t mind showing you,” he cooed, snickering when you shoved his face away with a ‘shut up!’

Giorno Giovana

- Giorno was massively taken back when the situation the both of you were in were clear. He was in your body and you in his. This stand ability ... seemed so incredibly useless. Granted, it left the two of your flabbergasted and frantic for a while but in the end you both adjusted pretty well to the change and were read to take down the stand user.

- You were a little curious though, reaching up to play with the buns in Giorno’s hair and stroking a finger over the lady bugs on his attire. Not to mention is ‘boob window’ as you jokingly called it, much to his dismay. “You’re pretty brave to wear something like this, Giorno,” you told him, glancing into a nearby shop window to look yourself over, even secretly admiring the blond’s good looks. How could he look so good and not even act like a primadonna? “Plus, you make it look good.”

- Giorno hummed in response, arms wrapped over his chest as he stood a feet or two away from you while still being able to side glance the window to see his own reflection. He was certainly flattered by your praise and could easily repay it tenfold seeing as he thought you were stunning both physically and as a person, yet his mind was too focused on finding the enemy. “Mh, grazi, you could make it look good too,” he murmured, not really thinking too hard over his words since he didn’t think it was the time.

- “I would?” You choked out, wheezing a little at what he had said. Wearing an outfit like his in your actual body would give you a very ‘out there’ look, one you’re not sure you could even wear in public. “I mean, I’m glad you think so but I didn’t take you the type to say something so bold so suddenly, Giorno...!”

- That pulled him from his thoughts. “Hm? What do you mean, I just meant you could look good in anything, I mean,” he then made a gesture to the reflection in the window, smiling softly, “I’m not blind, I stand by what I meant.”

- Gulping, you nodded slowly, averting your eyes from his since you were certain he would be able to notice a blush on his own face. “Oh I see, it’s just I thought you meant you wanted me to have the boob window look too,” you laughed, nervously scratching your cheek.

- “Oh, no, no! I didn’t mean- Well, I’m not saying it’d be a bad look on you but I just meant-” Giorno, a typically well composed person, was stuttering like crazy, unable to even look at you much like you. Really, the both of you were messes.

- “It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s just get going, yeah?” You reassured, placing a hand onto Giorno’s or uh, your’s shoulder. Nodding, he smiled and agreed, “we should before the user escapes, and you know if I’m right, they must be somewhere around...”

Trish Una

- Trish was just as shocked as you were when she realised what was going on! You both had a screaming session until one of you calmed down, taming the other’s screams until the two of you caught your breathes.

- “How -?! Did that guy from earlier do this?!” Trish panicked, looking up at your desperately with your own eyes, which was little off putting at first since it was so weird but you looked past it and shrugged. “I mean, that’s the only thing that makes sense, right? Right now we should really be looking for him to swap back.”

- “Yeah, you’re right,” she nodded before immediately marching off to find the stand user, you quickly catching up to her and walking along side her. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Trish spoke up suddenly, your head turning to the side to realise that her hands were moving up and down your hips while her eyes were glued onto your body.

- “Woah [F/N], you look great! I mean, your hips are so nice and you work these clothes so well!” Her praise made you chuckle a little, the flattery warming your heart. Looking down at yourself, you already knew Trish looked amazing so repaying the compliment was no feat.

- “Thanks hon, you’re beautiful yourself, y’know? I mean, you’re so slender and pretty after all.” Trish blushed at your words, gently slapping your arm while giggling like a teenage school girl. “Oh stop, I don’t need you to be nice back, I just wanted to tell you what’s been on my mind for ages now!”

- “Is that so?” You asked, surprised that Trish thought so highly of you and even thinking that you were hearing things for a second. Honestly, you were pretty sure you were going to go have a heart attack from how quick your heart was beating - to be praised by someone so pretty, sweet and loveable was something you couldn’t fathom yet it was still happening. “Well I’ve always thought you were pretty anyways, not to forget amazingly kind and badass for sticking through all of this!”

- From there, the two of you spent the rest of your search praising each other and by the time you found the stand user, your bond had grown strong enough to land an amazingly co-ordinated attack, to which you both returned to praising each other over.

- Once you met up with the rest of the Bucci gang, the rest of the boys were pretty much ignored for the day as the two of you either held hands or linked arms together while chatting about similar interests and making plans to one day go shopping or to a cafe together once everything was over. Narancia was allowed to join in every now and then though, to which Mista complained over.

#nO ASS RIGHTS FOR ABBA.#sorta crack writing #bruno x reader #bruno bucciarati #abbachio x reader #leone abbacchio #fugo x reader #panacotta fugo #narancia x reader #narancia ghirga #guido mista #mista x reader #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna #trish una #trish x reader #jjba x reader #jjba headcanon

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crookswithbooks · 3 years

Text

More Than Just A Friend

Day Four - Kris is feeling uncertain doing the holidays without Asriel, and Susie discovers hidden feelings within herself.

Susie shifted on the bed, shooting nervous glances over at Kris every once in a while, who sat reading a book, some comic or another, completely oblivious to Susie’s inner turmoil.

When Kris had asked her to stay for the holidays, as she had no one else to stay with, she had accepted immediately, feeling grateful and a little bashful that Kris thought of her at all. But now that she was here, in Kris’s room filled with things that made him Kris, she began to think about the long night (nights? They hadn’t quiet discussed how long this was lasting) ahead of them. Where would she sleep? Where would she get changed? Where would he get changed? Would they stay in the same bed? The questions swirled around in her head, making her more and more nervous as time went on, and Kris sitting there as if everything was completely normal was not helping.

Susie’s feelings for Kris were a recent development, one that had crept up on her quietly and quite unwillingly. She had noticed it one day when he had accidentally bumped her arm and her heart did backflips in her chest. She had tried to shove it down and keep her from accidentally ruining things with the only friend she had.

Though technically not only friend, if you counted Ralsei and Lancer; but that was still up for debate, whether they were even real or just figments of her imagination, all of which was all kinds of messed up if you though about it.

She had thought she had been dealing with these new feelings pretty well thus far, but being suddenly thrust into the same house as Kris for a week (weeks? Seriously she had no idea how long she was staying) was not doing any favors to her already raging crush.

“Sooo…” Susie started, after a minute of unbearable silence had passed. “What, uh, what have you been up to?”

Kris looked up at the sound of her voice, putting down his comic. “Nothing much. Hanging out with you, I guess.” He picked at a hole in his jeans that she hadn’t noticed before. “I got a letter from Asriel.”

“Yeah?” The subject of Kris’s brother was not one that came up often, and it was a rare moment when Kris himself brought him up. “What’d he have to say?”

Kris shrugged, ripping the whole wider. “Nothing much. Wished me a merry Christmas. He said things in college were going well, that he’d started to make a bunch of new friends.”

“That’s good,” Susie said, offering an encouraging smile, a rare gesture for her. “Right?”

Kris nodded, but his expression was vacant and closed-off, a look Susie was starting to get more and more familiar with. “Yeah, I guess.”

He picked back up his book and she realized with horror that the silence was going to begin again, but he paused, turning to look at her. “Hey, have you ever been kissed before?”

Her heart just about exploded in her chest at his words. “Uh… what?” she stuttered as he stared at her with innocent eyes. Two seconds ago they were talking about his brother and now he suddenly bombarded her with this? Where the hell was this going and how did they get here?

Kris scooched forward, which did not help. “A couple of the kids at school were talking about their first kisses and it got me thinking.” He crossed his legs, peering up at her. “So, have you?”

Susie could feel the burning on her cheeks and she only hoped that Kris didn’t notice. “Uh, yeah, of course I have.”

This was a lie. She had spent so long pushing people out of her life and cutting herself off from any potential friends, that she had never gotten close enough with someone for kissing to even be a possibility.

“I haven’t,” he confessed honestly, sitting back which she was both grateful of and disappointed by. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like, but I’ve never found someone who likes me in that way.”

Susie snorted at the irony of the sentence. “Really? You?”

Kris narrowed his eyes at that, frowning in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Susie was spared having to answer, as at that moment the door swung open and Toriel stuck her head in, smiling when she saw the two of them. The minute she opened the door the smell of fresh-baked gingerbread wafted through the room, and Susie could feel her mouth watering.

“I just wanted to tell you two that dinner’s ready.” The goat was staring between them with a knowing smile that made Susie flush, avoiding her gaze. The idea that even Kris’s mom knew about her feelings made her wonder how obvious she had been. Did Kris know? The thought made her stomach squirm uncomfortably, like there was a giant, nervous worm trapped inside.

“Make sure you wash your hands first, and for goodness sake’s Kris, clean up the mess on your floor.” Toriel gave him a stern look before disappearing back out into the hall, closing the door gently behind her.

Kris reluctantly slid off her bed, picking up the various comics and clothes spread about the room, spilling a pile of colored pencils into an emptied out pickle jar. Susie watched him do this, still jittery from the earlier question, not sure if she should bring it back up or let it go.

She still couldn’t believe that Kris hadn’t been kissed before. When they had travelled to the Darkworld he had been so kind to everyone, sometimes even being a little too nice, though she hadn’t known why it bothered her at the time. Surely he must have dated someone before.

“You coming?”

Kris was standing by the doorway staring expectantly at her, and she realized that he had finished while she was lost in thought.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” She shoved past him, ruffling his hair as she went.

“Susie,” he complained, ducking under her and glaring up at her. Despite his annoyance, she couldn’t help but find it cute when he tried to be angry. That was her thing, not his.

Dinner was spent in quiet silence as Susie shoveled food into her mouth, feeling a part of her soul die and go to heaven with every bite. It was a beautiful roast turkey with thick gravy drizzled generously over it, and combined with the mashed potatoes Susie might as well have been eating like a king. Kris picked quietly at his food, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Susie paused in her inhales, wondering if she should ask him about it.

Toriel beat her to it, however, turning her kind eyes towards Kris. “So honey, how have things been in school?”

Kris shrugged, the same noncommittal answer as earlier when Susie had asked him. “It’s been fine. Mr. Papyrus taught us how to make spaghetti in class today, for the third time in a row. We keep telling him we want to learn other stuff, but he insists that pasta is, quote, the greatest food item in the world and the most important foundation for learning to cook. I’m not so convinced. I’m not sure how many more ways we can learn to make pasta.”

Toriel smiled graciously, shaking her head. “Just the same as when we were kids. And you, Susie?”

Susie snapped her head up, surprised to be addressed. Gravy dripped down her chin and she wiped it off quickly. “What?”

“How are things going in school with you?” she repeated promptingly.

“Oh. Uh… nothing much, I guess. Haven’t been getting as much detention recently, as you probably already know.”

Toriel smiled wryly. “Yes, I’ve noticed, and I’ve been glad for it. I wouldn’t want Kris hanging out with someone who’s a bad influence.”

Susie nodded humbly, going back to her food, but Kris stood up from the table. Toriel and Susie both looked at him in surprise. “I’d like to be excused, please.” He whirled around, rushing out of the room suddenly.

Toriel stared after him in shock. “He barely even touched his food.”

Susie felt worry blossom in her chest. “I’ll go check on him, make sure he’s okay.”

Toriel smiled gratefully. “Would you? Thank you, honey.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Susie said, blushing at the nickname and hurrying off.

She found Kris in the living room, curled up on the couch. He had a book in his hands but his eyes scanned the pages dully, not taking in the words. She sat down next to him, feeling awkward and bulky next to his tiny frame. The sheer amount of awkwardness she felt around Kris nowadays days was wholly unfair.

She coughed to announce her presence and Kris glanced up. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” she agreed. “So, uh, what was all that about?”

“Oh, that.” Kris looked back down at his book, flipping a page. “That was nothing. I just wasn’t hungry.”

“Kris.” Susie raised an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Kris.”

Kris sighed, leaning his head back. “Fine.” He crossed his arms, not looking at her. “I just don’t like the way mom talks about you sometimes. Like you’re some kind of miscreant that’s leading me off the path of good, whatever the hell that means.”

Susie raised an eyebrow at the curse, but inside she was touched that Kris cared about her that much. She nudged his arm, grinning. “Aw, dude.”

Kris blushed, shoving her away. “Shut up. It’s just… I care about you, you know? You’re my only friend, and I hate that mom disapproves.”

Although the sentiment touched her, the word friend echoed around in her head, reminding her that that’s all they were. Friends.

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean it like that,” Susie reassured him. “She just doesn’t want you to do poorly in school on my account. I think she was just teasing, anyway.” She frowned, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not all this is about, is it?”

“No,” Kris sighed, looking away. “It’s also my first Christmas without Asriel here. It’s just weird not having him around the house, singing Christmas songs and helping to decorate the tree. I guess I just got used to things being a certain way and now they’re…”

“Not?” Susie finished.

“Yeah,” Kris agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them unsure what to say next. Finally Kris leaned over, resting his head on her shoulder. Susie froze, her body tingling with sudden electricity. “Thanks for being here,” Kris said, fiddling with his hands. “I really do mean it. Thanks for coming and spending the holidays with us when you didn’t have to.”

Slowly Susie relaxed, her expression settling into a smile. “Of course, man. If anything I should be thanking you for giving me somewhere to be for the holidays.”

Kris nuzzled closer and Susie relaxed against him, glancing up at the twirling paper snowflakes above them. That was when she noticed it. Mistletoe, hanging right above the two of them.

Susie snapped her gaze down to Kris, who noticed the sudden tension in his friend. “What is it?” he asked, sitting up much to her disappointment.

She pointed up, hoping he wouldn’t notice the furious blush on her face. Kris saw the mistletoe and his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. Mistletoe.”

Susie was already making up excuses, blustering and gesturing wildly. “We don’t have to or anything. It’s a stupid tradition anyway and I wouldn’t want to make things weird, so it’s totally cool if you don’t want to—”

Kris cut her off, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes widened as she felt his soft lips, softer than you would think a boy’s lips would be. He pulled away, staring at her, his eyes just as wide as hers as though he hadn’t quite realized what he was doing.

Susie jerked back instinctively and Kris’s face fell immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his hands apologetically. “I didn’t mean to, it just kinda—”

The rest of his sentence broke off as she grabbed him, kissing him again. A part of her didn’t believe what she was doing, but another part of her felt completely clam, as if kissing your best friend wasn’t a weird thing to do. They stayed like that for a minute, their lips locked together, and when they finally pulled apart both of them were panting for breath.

“Um, excuse me?”

They jerked around to look at Toriel, staring with a smirk between the two teens. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted some cookies, but maybe I should leave you two alone…?”

“Mom!” Kris exclaimed, his face going bright red. Susie would have been embarrassed as well but the sight of his blushing face was so uncharacteristically adorable that she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“Right, right, of course,” Toriel said, winking subtly as she left the room. “I’ll just leave you two alone then to... continue your business.

“Mom,” Kris groaned again as she left, burying his face in Susie’s shoulder. Susie glanced down at him, grinning a little. He glared up at her, but there was no venom in his gaze. “Oh shut up you.”

“Gladly,” she responded, pulling him in for another kiss.

Maybe the holidays weren’t going to be so bad after all…

#deltarune #susie #kris #susie x kris #undertale #twelve days of ficmas #fanfiction

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imaginejamesandsirius · 4 years

Note

Please could you do angsty James comes back to life and finds out Sirius has been in Azkaban and feels really guilty about it. Thanks!

((A/N: Warning for trauma both for Azkaban reasons and coming back to life reasons))

James loved Sirius. He loved him so much that sometimes it felt like he couldn't breathe. He couldn't find the words to explain how much he loved him, but that hadn't stopped him from trying-- a dozen poorly written poems that were probably long since lost to the elements had been proof of those attempts.

Loving Sirius was always good. Being in love with him wasn't always good, though. It was hard. They couldn't have all the good things from a relationship without also having a few bad things. It meant figuring out how to comfort him because sometimes a really nice hug wasn't enough. There were nightmares and long nights, and a hundred different misunderstandings that James hadn't known to expect and had difficulty patching up-- and all of that had been before the war started. After the war, it was hard to be in love with him because he never knew which time would be the last time they got to see each other or which kiss would be the last one for the night.

Sometimes Sirius would tell him that he loved him, and it didn't make him feel better. He loved Sirius so much, and the chance for losing him was too damn high. If Sirius died, James wouldn't know what to do with himself; he wouldn't know how to live. Worrying about it nearly made him sick some days. He'd never felt better than when he was with Sirius, and he'd also never felt worse. It was a trade-off, he supposed, and it was one he would choose to make each and every day because it was worth it.

Then James died.

And he came back.

Loving Sirius was as easy and wonderful and amazing as it had always been. Being in love with him was harder than it used to be. It's not like Sirius had gotten more difficult or summat, but... Azkaban. Sirius had been in Azkaban. The nightmares weren't actually worse to deal with than the ones he'd used to have from Grimmauld Place, but these felt different to James. Grimmauld Place had been horrible for Sirius because of his parents; he'd only been in Azkaban because of James. Sirius had gotten locked up there because of him. It was his fault that that had happened. Sirius tried to say that it had nothing to do with him, but if James had just carried his bloody wand, he would've been able to apparate away in time, and they all would've survived it. It was his fault that Sirius had been in Azkaban for twelve years, and he was horribly aware of that fact.

It was his fault.

James's eyes were stuck on the pan, watching the eggs cook. It looked like he was very interested in seeing the egg whites cook through at the edges, but his mind was a million miles away. Sirius had a dozen new scars interspersed with tattoos James had never seen before. He'd asked Sirius about it last night, fingers trailing along his ribs. He'd thought that it would make for a good story, but Sirius had gotten all sad and mumbled that he'd gotten the scar on his collarbone from another dog after he broke out of Azkaban-- that's how he'd phrased it: 'another dog', not 'a dog'.

"Dad?" Harry asked, his voice coming from somewhere near the doorway.

James pulled on an automatic smile and turned to face him. "Hey sprog." Sprog that was like six years younger than him. Seven, at most. "You're up early."

"It's seven," Harry said as he got closer, like that wasn't plenty early.

James chuckled. "When I was your age, you couldn't pry me out of bed before nine."

Right after he started talking, Sirius came into the room too. "That's funny," Sirius said. "All I had to do was ask, and you bounced right up."

"Well that was different," James said, turning back to the stove. "Anyone want eggs?" He wasn't actually hungry. He'd needed something to do, some sort of excuse so that people didn't (rightly) accuse him of brooding. He hoped someone said yes so that he could offload them.

"I'll take some," Harry said.

"Great. Sirius?"

"Nah, I'm not hungry yet," Sirius said, coming up behind James and wrapping his arms around his waist. He hooked his chin over James's shoulder.

James didn't relax against him. He didn't deserve that comfort. In the war, he should've insisted that Sirius stay the secret keeper. He'd let them switch to Peter because Sirius had looked so desperate, but he hadn't wanted to. Sirius had held his life in his hands, and that's exactly where James had wanted it. He shouldn't have let Sirius change his mind. If he'd stuck to what he wanted, none of this would've happened. Sirius wouldn't have that haunted look in his eyes any time he stopped laughing; Sirius wouldn't be so thin that James could count each and every rib when he laid down.

He did like that Sirius was comfortable enough to do this with him again, though. When he'd first gotten back, Sirius hadn't initiated anything. Not a single touch, let alone kisses or hugs. This was a good thing for Sirius. He'd come a long way in a very short amount of time, and James was happy for him. He was happy for him in a small, specific way that sort of paled in comparison for what he was being forced to get over.

James wasn't used to hating himself. He used to be a pretty great bloke, all things considered, and he generally liked himself. What wasn't to like? He was amazing. Based on Quidditch prowess alone, he was one of the better people he'd ever met. That Sirius loved him bumped him rather solidly up to the top, with his handsome face an added bonus like the cherry on top of a sundae.

The problem now was that he was buggering horrible. Not bad enough to be at the bottom of the list, but he was so fucking low he might as well be on the floor. It was a crock of shite. How had this happened? Life wasn't fair, he knew that, but it was quite another thing to say that Lily was still dead and Harry had grown up around people that hated and feared him and Sirius had spent twelve years locked in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, and James was the one that managed to skip all the terrible shite. He died sure, but he came back. He was given the love of his life, their son, a new wand... everything. He'd been given back everything. And he didn't deserve any of it.

He sodding hated this.

Harry was okay-- mostly-- and that was good! It was great, even. But half the time when James looked at him, he didn't recognise him. He looked like family, sure, but he wasn't the baby that James had held a year ago. He would recognise that baby if he saw him again, but it had been years. It had been years since James had been alive, and that meant that Harry had went and grown up. He was his own person, with opinions and mates of his own, and James had missed out on all the time where he got those things.

To everyone else, James had been gone/dead for fourteen years. To James, he'd been knocked out with an injury and woke up to find that everyone was different to what he'd known. Some things were incredibly similar. His father's house, for example, looked exactly the way that it had when he'd last seen it. Sirius looked different, but he was ultimately the same. Some of his edges were rougher-- both physically and emotionally-- but the base was the same as it had always been.

It was easier with everyone else than it was with Harry. James was supposed to have been there for him for each and every step he took, and he'd missed all of it. Lily would know what to do if she was here. It's not that she always made the right decisions, but she didn't like not having a plan. When she was uncertain, she would make a plan. She used to tell him that everything was better with a plan, even if the plan was 'wait and think more', because at least then he would have something to work towards.

James didn't have a plan, here. People had been asking him what he planned on doing-- about Harry, about Sirius, about the war-- and he never had an answer. He didn't even have the plan to wait and think more. He was just... focusing on Sirius. Pretending that everything was fine because if he tried to think about everything else, he couldn't get himself to stand.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked.

James turned to him, a smile coming automatically to his face. "'Course. Why, what's up?"

"That smile, for one."

"Er, okay?" James said, his expression turning into something more like a frown. "I can be miserable if that's what you want, but I gotta say that it's a little weird."

Sirius didn't say anything for a moment, but he looked worried.

"Are you okay?"

He raised one hand and rubbed his thumb over James's cheek. Not the cheekbone, but the round, middle part where it would plump up when he smiled. "You keep smiling when you're not happy. You want to explain that to me?"

James's smile came back automatically. "What are you talking about? I'm fine."

"Like that," Sirius said, looking more worried than before. "Right now you're smiling, but you're not feeling it. You're allowed to be sad."

He imagined that, were his calm emotions a marble counter, there would be a massive crack in it. It was jarring. He'd thought he was hiding it pretty well. Smile, and no one would notice that he wasn't feeling as great as he pretended. He should've known that Sirius would realise it, but he'd hoped that he wasn't looking that closely. After all, Sirius had enough to deal with without worrying about what James was doing now that he was alive again. "I'm fine," James said again. "Stop worrying."

"Don't lie to me," Sirius said quietly. James swallowed. He didn't like lying to Sirius, but it had been over something so small this time that he didn't think it really counted. Evidently, Sirius did not feel the same way about it. "If you're not upset, then you're covering something else up. So what is it? You can't keep on like you have been." When James didn't say anything, he said, "Talk to me. Whatever it is, I promise I can deal with it."

"It's nothing," James said, but it was weak.

Sirius didn't even have to say anything else. All he had to do was keep looking at him, and James broke. The crack in his calm deepened until it fell into two separate pieces, and he started to cry. He didn't even feel like he needed to cry; he just started to, and he couldn't make himself stop. Sirius held him the entire time. He didn't tell him that it was okay or that he was safe or any of the things that James normally said to Sirius when their positions were reversed; it made James feel a little better because there wasn't a fix to this. The world had changed when he wasn't around, and now he had to deal with that. Making it better meant that he had to adapt, not that the world needed to change back to the way it had been before.

When James's sobs tapered off into sniffles, Sirius said, "If it- if it's about us or me, you can tell me that."

James immediately shook his head. "It's not." His voice sounded small and croaky to his ears from crying, but maybe that was just in his head and not anything that Sirius could hear. "Not really."

Sirius was quiet for a moment, smoothing his hand up and down James's back. James could straighten, could get his face out of Sirius's shirt now that he wasn't really crying anymore, but he didn't want to. Not looking at him made it easier. "Not really?" Sirius repeated.

"You were in Azkaban."

"So?"

"So? So? What the hell do you mean by that?" James asked, shooting up to stare at him, dumbfounded. His initial idea to not look him in the face went right out the window. How could he be so flippant about it?

Sirius squirmed a little at the sudden scrutiny. "It happened. There's nothing we can do about it. I don't want to think about it because it makes me feel worse. I just want to focus on what we have now."

"Just like that? It's that easy for you?"

"James..." Sirius reached over, putting a hand on the back of James's neck. "I thought I'd lost you. Forever. I never thought I'd see you again, but you're here. You're back. I don't care about the other shite. I would've done anything to see you again. Twelve years in Azkaban was worth it now that you're here."

James started to tear up again. He shook his head. "Nothing's worth that," he choked out.

"I disagree," Sirius said softly, and it was that simple for him.

James curled up against Sirius's side. Sirius always slept on his back, so it was easy for James to sleep cuddled up to him. He looked worlds better than he had when James had first gotten back. He still wasn't up to his normal weight, but he didn't look quite so emaciated anymore.

He got to know Harry. It was weird to be more like his older brother than a father, but at least he had the chance to know him.

He didn't feel like he'd been awake for very long, but it must have been because when Sirius shifted and James lifted his head, he could feel that the half of his face that had been on Sirius's shoulder was imprinted with red.

"How long have you been awake?" Sirius asked sleepily, his words slurring together.

"I dunno."

"You okay?"

James thought about it before answering since Sirius didn't like when he said yes automatically. He put his head back down where it had been before. It wasn't quite as comfortable as it had been ten seconds ago. "I think so. Things are... getting better."

Sirius nodded, then yawned. "You gonna get back to sleep?"

"Are you getting up?"

"Yeah."

"Then no. I'll just get up with you."

Sirius nodded again, turning his head so that he had a face full of James's hair. "Love you," he breathed.

"Yeah." Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten that for a few weeks. It had taken Sirius saying it a couple dozen times before he properly remembered. "Yeah, I love you too." He knew that the way his hand tightened on Sirius was slightly uncomfortable, but he eased up after a moment. He needed the constant reminder that Sirius was there; the same way that he knew Sirius liked constant reminders that James was still there.

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #harry potter #filled #first war #james lives #established relationship #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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elizabear · 3 years

Text

body language will do the trick

OK, so I know this is going to be fully AU in about five seconds when The Falcon and the Winter Soldier airs, but those couples counseling scenes in the trailer got me WAY TOO EXCITED and I really couldn't help myself.

Title: body language will do the trick

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Relationship: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes (background Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff)

Additional tags: frenemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers, couples counseling, because sam and bucky can’t stop flirting at work, post-avengers endgame, but it’s au because, steve rogers isn’t old, and natasha romanoff lives, captain america sam wilson, shield agent bucky barnes, past steve rogers/bucky barnes, but it’s minor, bucky and sam fall in love, but COMPETITIVELY, oral sex, anal sex, tender railing, idiots in love, praise kink

Words: 12,598

Link to AO3: here

Summary:

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

Bucky Barnes is pretty sure that these counseling sessions—supposedly for Bucky and Sam’s “interpersonal issues”—are Director Fury’s revenge for that whole fake assassination situation. Which, to be fair to Fury, came about as the result of Bucky’s very real assassination attempt, even if the subsequent “assassination” was fake, so Bucky can’t exactly blame Fury there. What Bucky doesn’t understand is why their possibly-fake counselor—is she a real counselor, or just another one of Fury’s spies?—chooses to conduct her “therapy” sessions in the unlikely and frankly suspicious location of an underground bunker.

Dr. Carson’s therapy bunker is probably just a temporary location, since usable office facilities with running water and electricity are still pretty limited after the Blip, but Bucky was definitely under the impression that modern American therapists’ offices were supposed to be more soothing than this. He’d expected a bland but tasteful space filled with a cushy sofa and watercolor paintings and the calming sounds of nature recordings. Instead, Bucky and Sam are sitting in uncomfortable chairs in a dim room with bare cement walls and unflattering fluorescent lighting. Is Fury even trying to sell this fake counseling op?

Bucky and Sam’s counselor/interrogator is most definitely hostile. Although Dr. Carson looks lovely in her delicate green silk blouse and expensive silk scarf, her expression is stern and sour. She’s styled her glossy dark hair neatly, in gentle waves that summon a distant memory of the way women used to wear their hair in the 1940s, and Bucky wonders if this is Dr. Carson’s authentic style or if it’s just part of another SHIELD spy game, meant to trick or manipulate Bucky into confiding in Dr. Carson because she looks familiar and nonthreatening.

Bucky considers it an insult to the memory of Peggy Carter if Fury thinks he could’ve worked with Carter for two years in the SSR and still underestimate a woman just because she has nice hair and a pretty outfit.

Also, if Dr. Carson’s trying to lull Bucky into a false sense of security, why is she doing it in this weird basement?

Honestly this whole counseling thing really does seem like it’s secretly just a poorly planned interrogation.

Like right now. Dr. Carson asks, “Are you having a staring contest?” and Bucky isn’t going to disclose valuable intel by admitting that while Sam is definitely having a staring contest with him, Bucky is just using this as an excuse to look into Sam’s eyes, which are warm and brown and make Bucky feel all sorts of confusing things. Bucky is trained to resist interrogation, and that piece of information definitely falls under the category of “unexpected and alarming potential weaknesses.”

Also Bucky’s still sort of figuring out how he feels about Sam’s whole eye and face and shoulder situation, so the staring contest is actually a pretty great cover for whatever the fuck is really going on with him. Half of successfully surviving an interrogation is letting your captors fill in the blanks themselves and then pretending like their waterboarding is the worst thing you’ve ever endured.

Unfortunately, while Bucky is congratulating himself on successfully maintaining operations security—and winning their staring contest, no reason he can’t do both at once—Dr. Carson seems to reach her limit for the amount of shit she’s willing to endure from them today.

“You’re not taking this seriously.” Dr. Carson shoots them with a hard glare. “I’m giving you a five minute break, and if you’re not ready to open up and work on your communication and compatibility issues, I’m going to have to advise Fury to put you both on leave.”

Bucky’s fine with being put on leave, and he’s fully prepared to wait out SHIELD, Fury, and Dr. Carson. It took HYDRA fifteen years to break him down enough to send him out on missions, and no matter how much they tortured him Bucky didn’t shed so much as a single tear until they showed him newspaper headlines about what a bad pilot Steve turned out to be.

Also, Bucky’s not entirely sure that he’s not actually immortal, so he figures his patience will probably far outlast Fury’s determination to punish him for shooting him a few times when he didn’t even die. Actually, now that Bucky thinks about it, Fury’s probably less mad about the whole fake assassination thing than he is about Steve forcing him to offer Bucky a job and then grit out the most begrudging apology Bucky has ever heard in his life for SHIELDRA holding Bucky hostage as a brainwashed assassin while Fury was the Director of SHIELD. Right in front of Captain Marvel, too, Fury’s favorite Avenger, who had looked very disappointed in him. Apparently Danvers had her own history as a superpowered amnesiac brainwashed into working for the bad guys? Bucky’s unclear on the details, but when Danvers’s mouth tightened and her head shook in dismay, Nick Fury’s shoulders had slumped like a chastened schoolboy.

God, Steve is such a dick sometimes. Bucky loves him so much.

Dr. Carson’s high heels make clipped little clicking noises that speak volumes about her frustration with them as she strides purposefully out of the room. As soon as she closes the door, so firmly that Bucky can just tell that she had to have put conscious, controlled effort into not slamming it behind her, Bucky turns to Sam with a satisfied grin.

“Well, I think we’re doing great,” Bucky says. “SHIELD’s going to have to work a lot harder to get any real intel out of us, and I was definitely promised that they wouldn’t be using any drugs or brainwashing techniques this time so I think we’re going to nail this whole interrogation.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “This is therapy, man, not an interrogation. We’re supposed to be, like, opening up and becoming a better team.”

“Yeah, well, if this is real therapy then where are the goats?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow toward the most likely location of the nearest camera as if to say gotcha, Fury, your goatless fake therapy interrogation tactic isn’t fooling me.

“I’m sorry, goats? Why would there be goats?”

Bucky leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. “I’m just saying, in Wakanda I always got to hang out with animals when I did therapy. And look how great that turned out! I hardly ever kill anyone anymore, and when I do it’s on purpose because I decided to. Anyway, I really feel like this is all just a plot by SHIELD to find out why we—”

Bucky and Sam bicker for a while about whether or not this is real therapy until they’re interrupted by Dr. Carson’s return, her face looking a little damp now, like maybe she spent her time away from them splashing water on it and doing some deep breathing exercises in the bathroom.

“OK,” says Dr. Carson, visibly relaxing her spine. “We’re going to take a new approach. Have you heard of the five love languages?”

Sam’s eyes widen in horror. “No, we are not doing the five love languages.”

Bucky hasn’t heard of the five love languages, but he can tell from the look on Sam’s face that they definitely don’t want to do this, and Bucky’s pretty good at improvising when he needs to. “Oh, you know, I think HYDRA already implanted the five love languages in my brain when they were doing the rest of the Romance languages. So we can just skip those, I already know them.”

Bucky offers Dr. Carson his blandest and most innocent smile, the same one that sometimes worked on Sister Mary Angela back at old St. Charles Borromeo, but Dr. Carson’s face remains as stony and unmoved as the church itself, still standing in Brooklyn Heights in the year of our Lord 2023. Instead she says, “I think we need to take a couples therapy approach.”

“Couples therapy,” Sam repeats, sinking lower in his chair. Bucky winces as Sam’s knee starts to crush his balls.

“According to this file,” Dr. Carson says, opening it up to read aloud, “the two of you are here because your colleagues have complained about your, quote, romantically-charged bickering, your constant flirting, and your unnecessarily sexual sparring.”

Dr. Carson punctuates these damning statements with some truly savage air quotes.

“Listen, when I slap Sam’s bare ass in the locker room after a good sparring session it’s with purely collegial respect for a worthy opponent,” Bucky says, folding his arms across his chest. “I only ever treat Sam with the same level of professional respect I give Steve and Natasha.”

Sam nods in support. “Steve and Natasha never have a problem getting sweaty and physical with us, and I’ve personally witnessed Steve and Natasha slap Bucky’s ass dozens of times.”

Dr. Carson raises a single judgmental eyebrow. “Don’t you think there might be a reason why Fury’s banned the four of you from using the gym at the same time?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “The other SHIELD agents get intimidated by Sam’s shredded abs and Steve’s and my super strength. Plus everyone’s scared of Natasha.”

Dr. Carson closes her eyes and visibly counts to ten. Bucky can see her mouth forming the words.

“All right, we’re just going to move on here, because I’m really only able to deal with just the one dysfunctional relationship at a time.” Dr. Carson passes them some worksheets and pencils. “I want you to fill these out, honestly, and then hand them back to me when you’re done.”

Bucky reads over the worksheets, which are filled with questions like, “Do you like it more when your partner reacts positively to something you’ve accomplished or when they do something for you that you know they don’t particularly enjoy?” There are a lot of questions about hugging, and holding hands, and Bucky gets distracted trying to picture holding hands with Sam, who has big hands, strong and capable and—

“Stop trying to copy my answers,” Sam says, when he notices Bucky glancing over at the way Sam grips his pen as he fills out his worksheet. Sam shoves his knee harder into Bucky’s crotch and Bucky stifles a gasp.

“I’m not!”

“Bucky, stop cheating.” Dr. Carson presses her lips together in a severe frown.

Bucky scowls and scooches his chair back several inches. It makes a loud scraping sound as it drags against the cement floor. But before going back to filling out his form, Bucky gives Sam’s ankle a sharp kick for getting him in trouble with Dr. Carson, and the two of them engage in a brief but brutal silent kicking war below the front of the desk where Dr. Carson can’t see.

When Bucky and Sam finish their kicking war and their quizzes, they hand their worksheets back to Dr. Carson for grading and rub their shins as they wait.

“Bucky, your primary love language is words of affirmation, and your secondary love language is physical touch,” Dr. Carson announces. “And Sam, your primary love language is acts of service, while your secondary love language is quality time.”

Bucky frowns. On the one hand, he feels like he’s received some pretty valuable intel about Sam that he could use to his benefit. But on the other hand, he’s probably given up some valuable intel of his own. He wishes there hadn’t been so many questions that made him think about hugging and touching Sam—somehow those made him so distracted that he forgot to respond with lies.

Bucky’s stomach knots up a bit at the thought of Sam learning his potential weaknesses, but really, how much of a psyop could Sam possibly launch with the results from a couples counseling questionnaire? (Natasha could probably execute a successful psyop based on the information from a Buzzfeed quiz meant to reveal your “celebrity mom,” so Bucky really hopes Sam doesn’t talk to Natasha about this.)

“Your homework is to try to learn to speak each other’s language.” Dr. Carson stands up and walks around the desk to touch Bucky’s shoulder. “Good job today, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles, and the knot in his stomach releases a bit. He is so nailing this therapy thing, he knew he’d be better at it than Sam.

Dr. Carson helps Sam back into his coat as she ushers them toward the door, and Bucky’s pretty sure she’s meant to be modeling an act of service except that mostly it seems like she’s just trying to rush them out of the office.

“See you next week.” Dr. Carson smiles stiffly, like she is not at all looking forward to seeing them next week. Her expression is full of determined professionalism right up until the click of the door latch, and then Bucky hears a dull thudding noise that is pretty unmistakably the sound of Dr. Carson hitting her head against the doorframe.

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

***

They’re on a mission together the next day, battling some Doombots in New Jersey, and wow is Sam committed to this whole words of affirmation thing.

When Bucky deflects a punch aimed straight for Sam’s head with his vibranium arm, Sam whistles and says, “Nice save, man, you’re killing it today.” Warmth rises up in Bucky’s chest at Sam’s praise, and Bucky is filled with panic and dismay when he realizes that the fight to squash it back down is honestly more taxing than their battle against Doombots. There’s absolutely no reason Bucky should be having such a physical reaction to basic battle camaraderie.

When Bucky stretches his leg up above his head to nail one of the bots with a vicious kick, Sam smirks and gives him a distinct how-you-doing sort of nod. “That was—seriously hot, man. Have you been doing yoga or something?”

So apparently Sam is choosing to interpret words of affirmation as “wild flirtation,” and Bucky’s cheeks are choosing to betray him by radiating at Sam’s attention. Bucky knows there’s a flush spreading down his neck, and he’s hoping Sam will attribute it to exertion from the fight, because there’s no way Bucky can let Sam know that Sam’s sort of winning at their therapy homework—not when Bucky’s entire mental health journey and, like, the honor of the Wakandan animal-assisted therapy program is at stake.

But after they board the Quinjet and set the autopilot on a course back to New York, Sam gives Bucky a slow up-and-down perusal with his eyes, and Bucky feels Sam’s gaze like a physical touch. “You look really good after a fight, Buck. That messed up hair and pretty pink blush are giving me all kinds of ideas.”

Bucky’s cock twitches at that, and huh. Bucky blinks and looks down at his crotch.

So that’s working again.

A dirty smirk spreads across Sam’s face, like maybe Sam knows exactly what just happened inside Bucky’s pants, and fuck, this whole situation is spiraling rapidly out of Bucky’s control. Like, yeah, Bucky kept Sam from getting a pretty gnarly concussion, and that was probably an act of service, right? But it’s pretty clear, to both of them, that Sam is winning this competition, and Bucky is not about to go down without a fight.

Which is—an idea.

Bucky drops to his knees in front of Sam and bites his lip in a way that he knows, instinctively, will make him look hot. Sam inhales sharply in response, and Bucky reaches up to grasp Sam by the hips before he can take a step backwards. The material of Sam’s uniform bunches up and shifts under Bucky’s hands, and fuck, Bucky’s cock is aching now, throbbing and filling up in his tight uniform pants. Bucky forgot he could feel so good.

“What are you doing,” Sam protests in a half-assed sort of way.

“Servicing you,” Bucky replies with a wicked grin, sliding Sam’s zipper down slowly over his thickening cock. Bucky can’t remember if he’s done this before, but the way his mouth waters and his throat aches in anticipation makes him feel pretty fucking confident about how this is going to go down.

But before Bucky can pull Sam’s cock out of his briefs, Sam slides his fingers into Bucky’s hair and tips his head gently backward, using his other hand to tilt Bucky’s chin up to look into Sam’s face. Sam’s pretty brown eyes are already darkening with arousal, but his expression is serious.

“You don’t have to suck my dick for therapy, man.”

Bucky huffs. “Sam, this is the first time my dick’s been hard since 1945. Do you know how many times Steve’s let me watch him jerk off trying to heIp me get hard again? I am definitely not doing this only to win at therapy, pal.”

Sam’s hands freeze in Bucky’s hair and his cock swells visibly in his briefs. “I’m sorry, Steve let you do what now? Dude, I thought Steve was straight.”

“Oh, he’s definitely, like, straight-ish,” Bucky assures Sam, with a little so-so wave of his hand that hopefully conveys the correct amount of ambiguity there. “He’s mostly just a really great friend.”

Sam’s eyes close for a long moment, and then Bucky’s scalp stings when Sam clenches his fist in Bucky’s hair and pulls. “Jesus,” mutters Sam, his voice gruff and husky. “Yeah, OK, baby. Go ahead and suck my dick.”

Bucky’s heart pounds as he pulls Sam’s cock out of his briefs and licks a wet stripe up the length of it, groaning at the feel of Sam’s skin under his tongue. Sam tastes salty with sweat, and his scent is musky and thick after their fight with the Doombots. Bucky teases him for a while, the way he’s seen people do in porn, trailing wet kisses along the shaft and mouthing at the head, and Sam lets out a ragged moan when Bucky’s mouth finally engulfs him. Bucky’s feeling pretty cocky about this, loves the rush of power he feels as Sam’s hips twitch and jerk to keep from thrusting into Bucky’s mouth—but then Sam fucking escalates shit, because Sam is an asshole.

“Christ, you feel good,” Sam murmurs, reaching down to rub his thumb against Bucky’s mouth, stretched wide around Sam’s cock. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

And then Bucky’s the one moaning, eyelids fluttering shut and heat coursing down his spine at the sound of Sam’s husky voice. Bucky should have expected Sam to counter his act of service with more words of affirmation, but somehow he wasn’t prepared for the unbearable ache he’d feel at Sam’s dirty talk. Bucky feels inexperienced, outclassed at this sort of sexual warfare, and the only way he can retaliate is by sinking as far down on Sam’s cock as his throat will allow him. He reaches up to grab Sam’s hips, urging him to fuck his mouth, and then he hums a little inside his head to try to tune out the sound of Sam’s praise.

“Fuck,” says Sam. “God, that’s it, baby. You take it so well, Buck. So fucking good for me.”

Bucky whines, his jaw aching, eyes filling with tears as Sam’s cock stretches his mouth open. Sam keeps offering him filthy praise as he slides his mouth up and down Sam’s thick cock, and Bucky doesn’t know why this is doing it for him when all of Steve’s pale skin and strong thighs and big dick couldn’t, but maybe seventy years of torture and captivity have left Bucky with a few new kinks. Or maybe Bucky’s just healing or whatever. Bucky honestly doesn’t care, as long as Sam keeps letting him fill his throat with Sam’s dick.

Sam’s voice is rough when he says, “God, you fucking love it, don’t you,” and Bucky pulls off Sam’s cock just long enough to nod eagerly and gasp for air before diving back in. “Take your dick out, baby. I want you to come sucking my cock.”

Bucky’s rhythm stutters at that, his hand reaching down to pull his cock out of his uniform pants. He wants to be so fucking good for Sam, wants to come just how Sam says, wants Sam to keep telling him how good he looks, how much he loves fucking Bucky’s mouth, how much he likes giving it to him.

Sam’s praise grows hotter and filthier as he gets closer, and Bucky whimpers as he feels his own orgasm approaching. God, he hasn’t come in so long, hasn’t felt that hot rush and that familiar ache in his balls in forever and he wants it, wants to come, he just needs—

“Come on, baby, come for me, I know you can do it, just keep sucking my cock, God, you look so good, baby, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

And Bucky spirals over the edge, cock pulsing and spilling over his fist. He lets out a choked moan around Sam’s dick before his mouth is flooded with bitter, salty fluid. And then Bucky feels so fucking full, like he could drown happily in Sam’s smell and his taste and his fucking words of affirmation.

Fuck.

Bucky definitely did not win that round.

***

The whole blow job thing was an outstanding idea, really, one of Bucky’s best. But fuck, he did not anticipate Sam using that as an opportunity to completely turn the tables and affirm the shit out of him. Bucky can’t help but privately acknowledge to himself that Sam is completely winning at love languages so far.

They’re in counseling the next week, still in Dr. Carson’s depressing therapy bunker, and honestly, Bucky can’t imagine that this setting is good for, like, anybody’s mental health. His therapy in Wakanda always took place outdoors, under the warm African sun, surrounded by the wild, earthy smells of mud and animals and Lake Turkana. It made him feel open and free and connected to nature or whatever. It was peaceful.

Therapy at SHIELD is not very peaceful, especially because Dr. Carson clearly hates them, and she isn’t at all impressed by what Bucky considers some very impressive progress by them. Bucky and Sam are getting along.

“So,” Dr. Carson begins, apparently deciding to just start right off with more hurtful accusations from their colleagues, “according to Carl from the gun range, the two of you have been subjecting your coworkers to your, quote, uncomfortable bickering-slash-foreplay, and Maria Hill reports that you’re still, quote, cluttering up comms during missions with the most embarrassing flirting I have ever heard, I hate it so much.”

Dr. Carson’s air quotes are fucking vicious.

Despite the fact that they’ve only just started their session, Dr. Carson looks tense and aggravated already. She’s wearing another pretty silk blouse today, but her earrings don’t seem to match and it looks like she didn’t bother to curl her hair today. Maybe she just realized that Bucky wasn’t fooled by those forties waves?

Also, even though it’s Friday, Dr. Carson’s giving off a very Monday sort of vibe.

“Sam and I are working on it, OK?” Bucky says, with a mulish set to his jaw. “Obviously I’m doing my best here, but it’s hard to do therapy in a cement basement that gives me flashbacks to 1970s HYDRA facilities where I was tortured. And there aren’t even any pets at all to comfort me. Didn’t you receive the note from my Wakandan therapist stating that I require animals during therapy?”

A blood vessel in Dr. Carson’s forehead throbs, and she raises her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’ll see if I can get us a room upstairs for our next session, but I’m telling you for the last time that we don’t have any therapy goats.”

“Well, I don’t have any issues doing therapy without goats,” Sam says, like the worst sort of teacher’s pet. God, Sam’s teachers probably loved his charming smile and his quick wit and his stupid handsome face. “Maybe Bucky is using the goats as an emotional crutch.”

“Listen, goat therapy works, OK?” Bucky counts out on his fingers as he lists the many examples of real progress he’s made since his time as a goat farmer in Wakanda. “I started off as an amnesiac brainwashed assassin, and now I have a steady job, a haircut, an apartment leased under my own shell companies, and I only kill people when I want to kill people now. And I wash my hair regularly. And if I don’t wash my hair, I use dry shampoo. And I don’t turn into a mindless killing machine when people speak Russian at me.”

“Dude,” Sam says.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you’re not as good at therapy as me.”

“Not as—not as good at therapy as you? Man, I am a certified peer specialist. I was so good at my own therapy that they let me give other people therapy,” Sam says, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Yeah, in America, where they’re not even familiar with things like advanced goat therapy.” Bucky clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “Did you even keep up with your continuing education requirements while you were fugitives with Steve?”

Sam sinks lower in his seat and frowns. “No. But speaking of Steve,” Sam says, perking up a bit as he follows a new thread of argument. “Whose PTSD recovery was so complete and inspirational that Steve Rogers trusted them with the responsibility of carrying the Captain America shield, hm?”

“Listen, Steve is reckless as shit and he’s so irresponsible with that shield that he’s constantly losing it in rivers and getting it broken by alien supervillains,” Bucky points out. “I’m so recovered that the king of an entire country, a man so responsible that they put him in charge of running literally everything in the most advanced nation on the planet, trusted me with a prosthetic arm powerful enough to crush the skull of an ordinary man with a single blow. Probably even his skull, and he’s been enhanced by some weird plant that makes him even stronger than Steve.”

“Yeah, well, I’m so recovered that—”

Dr. Carson interrupts them here, pinching the bridge of her nose. “OK, listen, I think there’s actually something pretty interesting here in how you each relate your recovery to your ability to wield weapons. Why don’t we stop bickering and discuss that a little further?”

“Yeah, OK,” Bucky mumbles.

Sam sighs heavily. “Fine.”

***

So the blow job thing is working perfectly—like, so perfectly, God, Sam’s dick is amazing—except for the fact that Sam is able to talk the entire time. Words of affirmation spill from Sam’s pretty lips every time Bucky swallows his cock, and Bucky is still fucking losing the love languages competition.

It’s time to create a Pinterest strategy board to figure this thing out.

Bucky is a visual planner, and he believes in tactical flexibility. He might not remember a lot about sex, but there’s tons of porn on the Internet. He just needs to find a couple of ways to service Sam while Sam’s mouth is otherwise occupied. How hard could that be?

After a lot of research and the creation of several Pinterest mood boards, Bucky calls Steve down the hall to his apartment to help him out. They all live in the same building since it has the best security in the city—and Bucky and Natasha are very particular about security—and it makes sense for the four of them to basically live together when they already spend all their time together. When Steve arrives, they head right to Bucky’s bedroom, get undressed, and survey the porn board on Bucky’s laptop.

“OK, so what about sixty-nine,” Steve suggests. “Let’s try that.”

They get themselves into position, mouths hovering over each other’s flaccid dicks like totally normal best friends.

“See, I feel like this works, but is it really servicing Sam if he’s, like, servicing me at the same time?” Bucky flops over onto his back in frustration and worries at his lower lip with his teeth.

Steve nods and tilts his head in thought. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Depending on the grading rubric, the two acts might cancel each other out. How about rimming?”

“I feel like rimming is a great idea, and I definitely want to do that, but how do I shut him up while I do it?”

Steve frowns. “Can you reach up and cover his mouth with your hand? Hold on, let me bend over and we’ll see.” Steve gets on his hands and knees, tilting his ass up for Bucky to simulate a rim job.

“You know, your ass really is kind of amazing.” Bucky takes a moment to admire the jewel of Howard Stark’s empire. “I mean, it was cute as hell when you were little too, but Scott Lang definitely wasn’t wrong in that podcast episode about which superhero has America’s ass. Don’t tell Sam I said that, by the way.”

“Thanks, pal,” Steve says, flashing Bucky a quick grin. “Your ass is great too, Sam’s a lucky guy. Now bend over and pretend to rim me.”

Bucky leans down and uses his hand to cover Steve’s exposed hole, then presses his mouth against the back of his hand to simulate a rim job. He reaches forward with his other arm to see if he can put his vibranium hand over Steve’s mouth. He could—maybe? If he releases the catch on his shoulder?

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Bucky says with a frown. “Here, maybe try getting on your back and holding onto your legs?”

“Like this?” Steve asks, shifting gamely into position. Bucky folds him over and pretends to rim him while covering Steve’s mouth, which—works, actually. And this is probably the most erotic scene Bucky’s ever been a part of—Steve really does look incredible like this—so it’s kind of a shame that it does absolutely nothing whatsoever for Bucky’s dick.

Except then Bucky pictures Sam in Steve’s position, bent over and whining under Bucky’s vibranium hand, and Bucky’s cock gives a little twitch. Fuck.

Bucky sighs and releases Steve with a short nod. “Not bad, pal. I think this one’s gonna work. Let’s write it down.”

They test out a few more positions, taking careful notes on the comfort and degree of mouth coverage of each one. Bucky finds a few more pictures to add to his Pinterest board, and they sort through every image and assign them to the correct position number. Then Bucky and Steve print off their pictures and tape them to Bucky’s wall for inspiration, mapping out a sequence of actions that will lead to orgasms for both Sam and Bucky with a minimum amount of talking on Sam’s part.

Which is a shame, really. Sam’s dirty talk really does it for Bucky.

Still nude, Bucky and Steve stand in front of the vision board and assess the plan.

“I think position two is really going to work,” Steve says, stroking his chin, and Bucky’s brain flashes back to an image of Steve in pretty much this exact pose, assessing a map of HYDRA facilities in Western Europe with no less gravity and passion. God, Steve Rogers is a great fucking friend. “And if you really want to service the guy, I mean, you’ve already got him all loose and open. You might as well give him your dick too, right?”

Bucky nods in agreement. “Yeah, I mean, as long as I keep kissing him, he won’t be able to affirm me too much. I think this really is the winning scenario.”

“Great teamwork, pal,” Steve says, slapping Bucky’s bare ass. “This was fun! Just like the old days.”

Bucky smiles wistfully. “Yeah, there’s nothing like planning an op with The Man With the Plan. Hey, you want to grab dinner after this?”

“Nah,” Steve says, too-casually, angling his pelvis away from Bucky as he pulls his pants back on. “I think I’m gonna go see if Natasha’s busy.”

Bucky grins. “Give her my best.”

“Will do. Love you, pal,” Steve says, giving Bucky a quick kiss before he leaves.

Steve doesn’t bother putting a shirt on before he goes, and Bucky can hear him whistling cheerfully all the way down to Nat’s apartment.

***

Steve and Bucky’s plan was great, so naturally it goes to shit as soon as Sam gets involved.

Bucky’s sucking Sam’s dick, which OK, yeah, wasn’t technically in the plan, but God, Sam’s got such a great dick. How far behind can Bucky really fall in the standings from just one blow job?

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” Sam says, sliding his long fingers through Bucky’s hair—which Bucky washed before he came over, because he is killing it as a recovered assassin and also because this afternoon Sam grabbed his hips and leaned in, breath hot against Bucky’s ear, and murmured how much he wants to smell Bucky’s shampoo on his pillows tomorrow morning.

Which was both smooth as hell and very convincing. Bucky immediately bought like three more bottles of that shit and accepted Sam’s invitation over to his apartment that night.

So now they’re in Sam’s apartment, and Bucky’s sliding his mouth along Sam’s cock, and Sam’s telling him how much he loves the way Bucky sucks him, loves the way Bucky’s pretty face looks with Sam’s cock in his mouth, lips slick with spit and tears leaking out of his eyes. And then Sam says—

“Are you gonna let me fuck you tonight, baby? Gonna let me see how well you take it?”

And before Bucky knows it, he’s moaning around Sam’s cock and nodding his head, and Sam’s pulling a condom and lube out of the side drawer, and then Bucky’s face down on Sam’s bed, gasping and clenching around Sam’s long fingers.

When Sam finally turns him over and pushes inside him, Bucky feels his brain just—fully vacate his skull. Pleasure buzzes up and down Bucky’s spine like an electric current, and he’s only barely conscious of the wet-sounding gasp that comes out of his mouth when Sam finally slides all the way home.

Sam gives it to him slow and sweet, fucking into him at a dreamy, leisurely pace as Bucky grabs fistfuls of Sam’s sheets and scrabbles at any leverage he can get to try and push back against Sam’s cock. Bucky wants Sam to grab his hips and pound him hard, overwhelm him with stimulation and keep him from sinking under the gentle wave of that languid rhythm. It’s too intimate, too vulnerable, and Bucky’s chest is cracking wide open for Sam to look inside. He’s a little afraid of what Sam might see within him, but instead Sam’s expression is full of awe, his face open and tender as he runs a thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, so fucking sweet for me.”

There’s a lot of eye contact after that, and romantic face touching, and Sam telling Bucky how much he loves the way he feels, loves the way he looks and smells and tastes. Warmth pools deep in Bucky’s gut, spreading through his veins like the burn of whiskey, until Bucky feels like he’s going to burst into flames around Sam’s cock. Instead he comes, long and hard and messy, all over his stomach.

Sam’s eyes are hot as he looks down at the sight of Bucky’s abs covered in pearly fluid, and then he slams his hips into Bucky three more times, hard, before groaning and collapsing on top of him.

Fuck, Bucky thinks.

He takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then suppresses a half-hearted sigh when he realizes that he completely blew the plan. Like, yes, that was some fucking amazing sex, Sam gave him the dicking of a lifetime, but somehow Bucky ended up even further behind in the love language competition. How does Sam keep winning?

It’s too late now to offer another act of service. Even if Bucky could get it up again, Sam definitely couldn’t.

Shit.

But wait, what was Sam’s secondary love language? Quality time? Perfect.

Bucky rolls over to give Sam a few open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder. Sam is sweaty from exertion, and he tastes salty and amazing. God, Sam is the best.

“You mind if I stay the night, sweetheart?” Bucky murmurs.

Sam’s lips curve up in a soft and pleased smile. “Yeah, baby, I was hoping you would.”

“C’mere, you can be the little spoon,” Bucky says, reaching around Sam’s waist to reel him in, and Sam huffs out a surprised grunt and then a happy sigh when Bucky wraps his arms and leg around him.

They fall asleep within minutes, and it turns out Sam really was into the smell of Bucky on his pillows because they fuck again in the morning, and this time Bucky forgets to keep track of who’s winning at therapy homework.

***

They fuck constantly after that, which is amazing, but unfortunately Bucky is still staying in this game only by the skin of his teeth. Like, yes, Bucky is performing acts of service for Sam on the regular, but somehow Bucky finds his self-control dissolving like sugar melting into caramel when Sam spreads him out under his dirty mouth and his clever hands.

So now when Sam collapses on top of him at night, fucked out and shaking, Bucky nuzzles his face into the back of Sam’s neck and wraps his arm around him to pull him close. Bucky stays the night, every night, and at work he sticks to Sam more tightly than one of Steve Rogers’s t-shirts. But the more quality time Bucky offers Sam, the more acts of service Bucky ends up performing—which, sure, sounds like a plan that would put Bucky pretty solidly in the lead, except for how Bucky always ends up a sobbing, needy mess dripping onto Sam’s sheets while Sam smirks and tells him how good Bucky is for him.

They fight together even better now, in sync in a way that Bucky hasn’t felt since he worked with the Howling Commandos, and when they finish a skirmish they turn to each other, flushed and grinning, flying high on adrenaline and oxytocin and arousal. They kiss savagely, mouths wet and open, and they don’t care who hears them pant and groan over the comms.

“God, you were so fucking hot—”

“Sam, yes, god, please—”

Bucky and Sam have died and come back to life already this year and somehow they’re still bringing each other back to life. Bucky swaggers through SHIELD headquarters with champagne flowing through his veins, bright and bubbly, and Fury yells at them twice for passing dirty notes to each other during briefings. They’re obnoxious about it, obvious and messy and shameless, and Bucky’s pretty sure that Maria Hill is going to resign in protest if she has to work surveillance for even one more of their ops.

Somehow they’re generating even more complaints to HR than before.

***

Dr. Carson has finally managed to find them a room with a window for their counseling sessions. They’re on the fifth floor, and there’s not much of a view—just the brick wall of the building next to them—but sunlight streams in through the sheer curtains and highlights the cut ridges of Sam’s frankly incredible cheekbones. God, Sam’s so fucking handsome.

Bucky and Sam are grinning broadly, but Dr. Carson looks stressed out and irritated today, even though they just started the appointment. Her hair is stringy and a little greasy at the roots, and Bucky wonders if Dr. Carson knows about dry shampoo. He isn’t sure how to ask, or if it would be rude to offer her a few sprays from the travel bottle he keeps in one of the pockets of his tactical pants? She’s still wearing a nice silk blouse, but it looks like she’s buttoned it incorrectly, and the tail is hanging out of the top of her slacks.

Are those even slacks? They kind of look like yoga pants.

Privately, Bucky thinks that an outsider might be hard pressed to figure out which of them was supposed to be the mental patient here. Are Bucky and Sam actually driving this woman insane?

“So you’re sleeping together.” Dr. Carson’s tone is flat and dismayed. “You know this is against SHIELD employee regulations, don’t you?”

She taps her pen against their folders in agitation, and Bucky wonders if those folders are their actual permanent records. Does Bucky’s folder still have all of the notes from Sister Mary Angela about his “distracting” and “unnaturally close” relationship with Steve? God, Sister Mary Angela hated Steve.

Sam waves a careless hand and props his ankle up on his other knee. “We’re independent contractors, and Steve and Natasha made sure that our contracts didn’t include any kind of anti-fraternization policies. They were extremely thorough about it.”

Dr. Carson sighs heavily, and it looks like she’s doing literally everything in her power not to roll her eyes. Instead, she tips her head back and looks at the ceiling, probably hoping to roll her eyes where Bucky and Sam can’t see them. “Nevertheless, the two of you are still required to be discreet and professional when you’re at work. We’ve received complaints from several of your coworkers about your behavior in the last week. According to Carl, you’ve been bringing, quote, unwanted and uncomfortable sexual energy to the workplace.”

Bucky scoffs. He knows how to handle this sort of situation. “Listen, I didn’t lose my life fighting Nazis so that a little homoerotic banter and ass grabbing would get me in trouble at work. And anyway, this is how Captain America and I behaved at work back when we were fighting fascism and defending the free world—in the 1940s, even!—so I can’t imagine that somehow you’re just not allowed to give each other friendly hand jobs in closets in 2023. If anything, I should be able to give Sam a friendly hand job outside of a closet. Those are exactly the kinds of freedoms I fought and died for.”

Sam nods in support and says, “That’s a great point, Buck,” and Bucky feels warmth curling in his belly before he realizes, fuck, Sam’s doing it again, and right in front of Dr. Carson too. Jesus, Sam is so good at therapy. “And it sounds like Carl might be just a tad bit homophobic. Maybe we should be complaining to HR about him. You know, I didn’t serve during the long years of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell just to hear—”

“Carl is happily married to his male partner of thirty-seven years,” Dr. Carson states, clenching her jaw. Bucky has literally fought people to the death who look less bothered by his general existence. “Also, you didn’t actually die fighting Nazis, Agent Barnes.”

“It was a metaphorical death,” Bucky defends, because this is important to him. “The old Bucky Barnes died in that ravine. We went over it all in my therapy in Wakanda, the most scientifically advanced country in the world. What even are your credentials and where are your goats?”

“I have a Bachelor’s degree in psychology from Harvard and doctorates in clinical psychology and neuroscience from Oxford. I was a Rhodes scholar, I’ve received a MacArthur Fellowship for my work in PTSD and polytrauma in returning veterans, and I literally wrote the textbook for most Introduction to Psychology courses.”

Bucky waves his dismissive hand at this. “Yeah, well, Sam did eighty hours of coursework and an eighty hour practicum to become a certified peer counselor. Plus he has experiential knowledge, which is more important than book learning. Also, Sam isn’t HYDRA. Are you HYDRA?”

The wood in Dr. Carson’s pencil cracks a bit under her hand. “I’m not HYDRA.”

“But, like, would Nick Fury know if you were HYDRA?” Bucky presses.

“That’s an excellent point, baby, you’re killing it in therapy today.” Sam pats Bucky on the thigh and then leaves his hand there, bare inches away from Bucky’s cock, and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moving his hips or making any noises. “Nick Fury would definitely not know if Dr. Carson were HYDRA, his Nazi-finding track record is, like, dismal at best. I vote that we suspend therapy until there’s been an independent investigation into whether or not Dr. Carson is HYDRA.”

“You can’t suspend therapy,” Dr. Carson says, her expression pinched. “These counseling sessions are mandatory.”

“Look, we’ll keep doing the love languages thing as a show of good faith, and once the investigation’s concluded we’ll come back so you can decide which one of us is winning at therapy,” Bucky says. “In the meantime just, like, prepare to have all of your secrets uncovered and all of your loved ones and ex-boyfriends questioned extensively about your most private and intimate memories.”

Dr. Carson covers her face with her hands. Is she trying to muffle a scream?

“For the last time, no one wins at therapy,” she grits out.

“I mean, I think I’m pretty obviously winning,” Sam says. Bucky tips his head in reluctant agreement. “Anyway, we’ll talk to Natasha and Steve about the HYDRA thing since they actually know how to find Nazis. If Steve and Nat clear you, then Bucky and I will agree to let you judge which one of us is winning the love languages competition. In the meantime, it would be nice if you could get some therapy pets for Bucky. He likes animals. Goats might be a bit unreasonable for downtown D.C., but I’m sure you could rustle up some cats or something, right?”

Bucky hums. “I like dogs better.’

“All right, cool. Dr. C, get us some dogs.” Sam raps two knuckles against the desk. “Bucky and I are going to go to the gym to work out a bit. Bucky’s shoulders are looking really good lately.”

“Sam!” Bucky hisses, squirming a bit in his seat. “Not in front of Dr. Carson!”

“Sorry, baby,” Sam says, holding out a hand to pull Bucky up out of his chair. “See you next week, Dr. C!”

***

It hasn’t exactly escaped Bucky’s notice that Natasha has been avoiding him ever since Bucky and Sam started their love languages competition, so when Bucky sees Steve walking alone down the hallway toward his office, he reaches out from the broom closet where he’s hiding and yanks Steve inside.

“Is Natasha helping Sam win the love languages competition?” Bucky hisses.

There’s no real reason that they need to have this conversation in a broom closet instead of Steve’s office, but Bucky’s feeling nostalgic today, and Steve doesn’t seem at all bothered to suddenly find himself in a broom closet with Bucky.

“I mean, probably?” Steve says with a shrug. “It seems only fair, since I’m helping you. Also her dirty talk has really leveled up lately, and that’s probably not a coincidence. Why, what’s Sam doing?”

“He’s, like, constantly flirting with me. And the touching! God, Steve, I’m horny all the time now. And you wouldn’t believe the things he says to me in bed! Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on all the sex routines you and I’ve choreographed when Sam’s telling me how pretty I look with his cock in my mouth?”

“Natasha is definitely helping him then—she says that to me all the time when she’s using her strap on,” Steve says, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Are you sure you can’t keep it together enough to service him without getting distracted by his words of affirmation?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, his cheeks growing hot. “You have no idea, Steve, like Sam just gets so filthy. I know my brain’s been fried like an egg and I don’t actually remember a lot about sex, but I don’t think people talked like this in the ‘40s, right?”

“I mean, you and I shared a bedroom in an apartment with paper thin walls and then spent a few years in a warzone. There’s not much opportunity for dirty talk when you’re just doing your best to get off without waking anybody up,” Steve says. “But that does give me an idea. Sam’s secondary love language is quality time, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So date him! You may not have the sexual repertoire of someone who’s watched hundreds of hours of modern porn or even someone who remembers much about having sex before like three weeks ago, but you do know how to pull off a good old-fashioned wooing.”

Bucky’s forehead wrinkles. “Do I, though? Do I still know how to pull off a good old-fashioned wooing?”

“I believe in you, pal.” Steve claps him on the shoulder and then looks around the broom closet thoughtfully, taking in the dirty mop and the shelves of cleaning supplies and filthy rags. “You’re honestly not even doing a bad job of wooing me right now. Want to trade hand jobs for old time’s sake?”

Bucky shoots Steve a withering look. “I’m not wooing you right now, Steve, you’re just easy. Go find Natasha if you’re horny.”

Steve shrugs. “Eh, it was worth a shot.”

***

Two months later, once Steve and Natasha have completed Dr. Carson’s background check and confirmed that she isn’t HYDRA, Sam and Bucky return to therapy. Even though Dr. Carson hasn’t seen them in months, she looks pinched and irritated, and the deep wrinkles in her forehead and the sudden explosion of gray in her hair make her look as though she’s aged five years since she started giving them therapy.

Bucky frowns and squints in suspicion. “We haven’t gotten Blipped again, have we?”

“What?”

“You just look—” Bucky gestures toward her hair and the bags under her eyes.

Dr. Carson’s expression shifts from exhausted indifference to polite fury, and Bucky’s just about to apologize when Sam gestures toward the floor under the window and says, “Hey, look at that! It’s about time you got Bucky a therapy puppy, you know that his doctors in Wakanda strongly encouraged it.”

When Bucky follows the line of Sam’s arm, he sees the cutest puppy in the world sitting in a fuzzy little dog bed with pictures of bones on it. Bucky gasps in delight. “He’s so cute, Sam, look at his little face!”

The puppy’s face is perfect, with big brown eyes and a short little snout with a tiny black nose. When he wags his tail, his little butt wiggles and Bucky wants to die about it. He loves this puppy so much.

“I’m naming him Paddington after my favorite movie,” Bucky declares.

“I love it,” Sam says immediately, pulling out his phone. “Put him in your lap so I can get some pictures for Steve and Natasha. They’re going to be so jealous when they find out that we got to have a dog in our therapy.”

Sam and Bucky spend the next ten minutes playing with Paddington and taking photos of the two of them with their adorable new therapy dog while Dr. Carson rubs her forehead like she just fucking knew this puppy would be a distraction.

“I think we should get started,” Dr. Carson interrupts, glancing pointedly at her watch.

“Yes, perfect!” Bucky pulls a small notebook out of his back pocket. “OK, so let me catch you up on everything we’ve done to each other since our last meeting, and I especially want your input on the scoring system that Sam and I have developed—”

Bucky and Sam spend the next half hour recounting their every interaction over the past couple of months in explicit, pornographic detail while Dr. Carson repeatedly clenches and unclenches her fists. When they spend ten full minutes alone on the rim job Bucky gave Sam last Saturday, Dr. Carson’s eyes go distant and glassy like a shell shocked veteran of the Great War or something. Bucky has literally seen torture victims make less of an effort to dissociate from their surroundings than Dr. Carson right now.

Honestly, who would have expected a therapist with thirty years’ experience to be so faint of heart? It’s absolutely critical to Bucky and Sam’s scoring system to determine whether Sam let out a “choked moan” or a “strangled gasp” while Bucky ate him out, and Bucky doesn’t appreciate Dr. Carson’s frankly lackluster participation when they stage a reenactment of events to try and settle the matter. She doesn’t even seem very decisive when she finally renders her judgment, like maybe she just doesn’t care what kind of sound Sam made, even though it was the most erotic noise Bucky’s ever heard in a hundred years.

When Sam concludes his argument for why words of affirmation during sex should count for more points than praise at work, Dr. Carson sighs heavily, looks off into the distance for exactly ten seconds, and then states, “I think we should discuss how you two can erect boundaries between your work relationship and your sexual relationship.”

Sam raises a skeptical eyebrow at Dr. Carson’s audacity. “Do you really feel like you’re qualified to counsel us on that particular issue?”

Dr. Carson’s jaw clenches. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, after everything that went down between you and Dr. Fitzgerald back in Philadelphia, I hardly think—”

Dr. Carson’s face whitens like curdled milk. “How did you find out about that?”

“Remember Natasha’s background check? Anyway, I’m just saying that it’s a tad bit hypocritical of you to suggest that Bucky and I shouldn’t be fucking during work hours, I mean, Bucky isn’t even married—”

Dr. Carson bites her lip so ferociously that she draws blood. “Bucky may not be married, but he is technically your subordinate, and that means there’s an uneven power dynamic to consider here—”

Sam smirks like he’s fucking Benjamin Matlock and he knows he’s just one pointed question away from making the guilty party break down and confess right there on the witness stand. (Bucky makes a mental note to ask Sam later why he and Natasha always snicker when Bucky and Steve get together to play cribbage and watch Matlock on Sunday afternoons.) “You mean like the uneven power dynamic at play between you and that doctoral student whose dissertation committee you chaired at UPenn?”

Dr. Carson gasps, and her face turns as red and furious as Sister Mary Angela’s that time she caught Steve’s skinny arms nailing a copy of Martin Luther’s Ninety-five Theses to the heavy wooden door of St. Charles Borromeo.

Bucky’s mind wanders a bit at that memory. God, Steve Rogers really was such a bad influence—maybe Sister Mary Angela was right about their distracting and unnaturally close relationship. Because of course Bucky couldn’t leave that stubborn asshole to face Sister Mary Angela’s wrath alone, so Bucky had ended up confessing to abusing his powers as editor of the student newspaper to let Steve use the school’s small printing press. Bucky emerged from the experience with an ass that burned for a week and a few uncomfortable new kinks.

Now, Bucky looks speculatively over at Sam’s strong hands and shifts in his chair.

“I just remembered, Sam and I have something really important to do,” Bucky announces. “So we’ll see you next week, right? OK, cool. C’mon, Paddington!”

Bucky grabs Paddington’s cute little dog bed and Paddington hops down from Sam’s lap to follow them out of the office, his tail wagging happily as he trots along beside them. God, Paddington is so fucking cute, Bucky cannot believe what a great dog he is.

Dr. Carson calls out after them through gritted teeth. “You’re not supposed to take the therapy dog with you!”

“Sorry, what?” Sam shouts back, cupping his hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you!”

“Bucky, I know you have super hearing!”.

“Sorry, I’m a hundred and six years old and I left my ear trumpet at home!” Bucky raises his hands in an exaggerated shrug to convey the hopelessness of trying to communicate at this great distance of about forty feet.

“God, I need a fucking vacation forever,” Dr. Carson mutters.

***

Later, after Bucky and Sam collapse against Sam’s sheets in sweaty exhaustion, Bucky mentally tallies their points and comes to the frustrating conclusion that Sam is still absolutely wiping the floor with him in this love languages competition. God, how is Sam so good at everything? He’s so fucking handsome and charming and athletic and just, like, absolute dynamite in the sack—

God, no wonder Bucky’s losing. There’s no way he can win this competition with his dick alone. Time to channel Tommy Dorsey and play it from the heart.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky murmurs, leaning up to nuzzle his nose against Sam’s jaw. “Let me cook you dinner tonight, doll. Wanna treat you right.”

“‘M not your doll,” Sam grumbles. “But yeah, OK.”

Bucky kisses Sam’s shoulder and plots.

Three hours later, Bucky and Steve survey Bucky’s dining room with the smug satisfaction of Scarlett O’Hara stealing her sister’s fiancé to get her greedy hands on his general store and sawmill.

“I think we nailed it, pal,” Steve boasts. “This looks just like your date night mood board.”

“I mean, I feel like half the credit should go to Pinterest user donkeydick2004—who would’ve guessed that he’d have such a sensitive soul.”

Bucky’s dining room table is covered with rose petals sprinkled over Bucky’s mother’s best lace tablecloth, liberated from the archives of the Smithsonian along with the rest of the contents of Steve and Bucky’s old Brooklyn Heights apartment. Two lit candles rise proudly from the gleaming silver of Sarah Rogers’s candleholders—the only wedding gift she’d managed to save from the pawnbroker during those lean years of Steve’s childhood—and the Victrola crackles with the smooth tenor of Enrico Caruso singing an aria so romantic it once brought a tear to the clear, flinty eye of Bucky’s father. Bucky’s grateful now that the Barneses were a Victor Talking Machine Company family—those Edison wax cylinders decayed faster than American democracy after the invention of Facebook.

The first time Bucky saw the familiar red logo of that Caruso record again—faithful Nipper the dog, his head tipped toward the horn of a gramophone playing the sound of his dead master’s voice—Bucky drove straight out into the desert and screamed until he was hoarse.

And now tonight Bucky’s using that very record to romance the shit out of Sam Wilson, so Nick Fury and Dr. Carson can fuck off with their so-called “therapy” because Bucky Barnes is doing great.

Steve clears his throat and gives Bucky a meaningful look. “You know, if this is all just some competition between you and Sam, you didn’t have to drive out to Maryland to dig all of our most personal and intimate memories out of storage for this dinner.”

Flustered, Bucky replies, “You have no idea what a canny opponent Sam is! Every time that man talks, my heart flutters and my stomach’s all full of butterflies. Besides,” Bucky says, “my grandfather paid fifty extra dollars to get the Circassian walnut veneer put on that old Victrola—he would haunt me if I didn’t ever use it, Steve.”

“You know your Aunt Margaret spit on her own father’s grave when your grandfather left that Victrola to your dad instead of her?”

Bucky laughs. “Is that why they had that big falling out? I couldn’t remember.”

“Peggy said that your Aunt Margaret wrote Howard Stark a letter every month until the day she died demanding the return of that Victrola.”

“Well, I hope that greedy old hag is looking down at me right now,” Bucky says, shaking his head in disbelief. “She deserves to watch me seduce my gay lover with that Victrola, it serves her right. You know she called you a fairy once?”

Steve gestures toward the intimate tableau featuring all of Bucky’s most precious memories and dryly states, “Well, as long as you’re clear on spite as your motivation for all of this.”

Bucky bites his lip as a sudden fear strikes him. “Do you think Sam’s going to like the chicken? People still roast chicken, right? It’s not just, like, sushi and gluten free vegan desserts nowadays?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a knock at the door. Paddington dives off the sofa like he’s responding to an Avengers Assemble alarm—which, oh my god, could Paddington wear a little outfit and come with the Avengers on ops? Bucky needs to look into this immediately—and dances around in elation when Bucky opens the door to reveal Sam, who is looking fine as hell in a lavender button-down and navy trousers.

And Bucky’s heart is—honestly not reacting much differently than Paddington right now.

“Aw, hi, baby!” Sam says, leaning down to pet Paddington and scratch him behind the ears. When Sam’s finished giving Paddington the attention he so richly deserves, Bucky’s pulled in for a long, heartbreakingly tender kiss that sends a shiver of want down the entire length of his spine. Sam and Steve exchange their own greetings while Bucky surreptitiously reaches up to rub at the goosebumps prickling at the sensitive skin at the back of his neck.

“Steve, you’re going to be OK watching Paddington tonight, right?” Bucky’s voice is threaded with the justifiable suspicion of someone who has known Steve Rogers for a lifetime.

Steve’s mouth drops open in offense. “Yes! Bucky, I know how to watch a dog.”

Bucky lifts Paddington’s tiny body and curls his arms protectively around him. “OK, well, Paddington is the most important thing in the world to me, and you are literally the least responsible person I know, so.”

“What? Bucky, I’m—that’s—I’m Captain America. I’m famously responsible.”

“Sam is Captain America, Steve. I feel like you’re not moving on. Also my brain might be a giant lump of small curd cottage cheese now, but I still remember that you’re a reckless idiot.”

Sam gives Steve a sharp look of his own and says, “Steve, Paddington is very important to Bucky’s therapy and also to our therapy as a couple—” Sam pauses, then adds, “of coworkers. So make sure you give him his favorite treats, but don’t give him too many treats, and make sure he doesn’t pull the squeaker out of his stuffed alligator—”

Bucky and Sam lead Steve to the door while Sam continues to debrief Steve on all of Paddington’s most important feelings and preferences. “You should really be writing all of this down, Steve,” Sam says with a frown.

Steve sighs. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“All right, well, if we pick him up in the morning and he has an upset tummy, I will literally kill you, and Sam—the trustworthy Captain America—will be my alibi,” Bucky says.

Sam nods in solemn agreement.

Bucky and Sam part from Paddington with identical expressions of worry as Steve walks him down the hall to his apartment.

As soon as Steve’s door closes, Bucky is all over Sam, pressing him against the wall and skimming his lips over the warm skin of Sam’s neck. God, Sam smells incredible, like tobacco and vanilla and oiled leather, and somehow the masculine scent of him travels down Bucky’s windpipe and directly to his cock.

“Hi,” Bucky breathes.

“Hey, baby,” Sam murmurs, tipping his head back to let Bucky’s lips trail along his throat to his jawline. Bucky’s just getting really into it, his hips pressing insistently against Sam’s, when the timer for the oven goes off.

Over dinner, Bucky and Sam talk and laugh about their coworkers as the candlelight does frankly amazing things for Sam’s bone structure. Bucky squirms in his chair and tries to will away the flush he can feel spreading up his neck when Sam compliments Bucky on the romantic lighting and the beautiful place settings. Fuck, he’s supposed to be giving Sam quality time here, and instead Sam’s using that quality time to offer Bucky more words of affirmation. Bucky’s not really ready to concede this battle just yet, but he’s definitely starting to craft a defeat narrative for himself about the lack of shame in being beaten by the best.

And Sam is definitely the best.

“That chicken was incredible.” Sam pats his stomach and groans in satisfaction. “You know that’s just how my mama always makes it?”

Bucky wonders if it would be weird to divulge that he actually broke into Sam’s mother’s house to sneak a look at her recipe cards. That’s normal intelligence gathering, right? Bucky made sure Sam’s mom was out of the house when he entered, and afterward he sent a team of security specialists to give her a better alarm system setup—”compliments of SHIELD, ma’am”—when he realized that her house was way too easy to break into. And Bucky’s dad always said to leave things better than you found them, so if anything Sam’s mom is probably safer now than she was before the world’s most legendary assassin crept into her house to rifle through her personal belongings.

He feels like Natasha would agree with him but he also feels like Natasha is probably just as batshit insane as Bucky and Steve are. Bucky has literally no normal friends and he should probably start spending more time with Sharon Carter.

After dinner, Sam looks relaxed and sated, his eyes warm and heavy-lidded as he watches Bucky shiver under his praise. “You know you have a praise kink, right?”

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky says, and tries to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Steve and I did a ton of research and watched, like, hours of porn together. We figured it out.”

“You and Steve have some serious boundary issues.” Sam shakes his head and grins in amusement. “But seriously, though, you’re not just hooking up with me because you imprinted on me after I made your dick hard or something, right? I mean, I remember the first time I got a boner after being deployed. I cried like a baby, so I get it, man, but—”

“Actually, I sort of wanted to talk to you about that,” Bucky says, his stomach swimming with nerves. This is the moment he’s been anticipating and dreading since he planned this whole date night op. “I was thinking—how would you feel about taking this competition to the next level?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just think we’d both have more time and energy to devote to this competition if we were competing, you know, exclusively.”

“Ah.” Sam’s expression clears and a slow smile spreads across his handsome face. “You want to be boyfriends.”

“I want to be boyfriends,” Bucky confirms with a decisive nod.

He may be losing this love language competition by about a hundred and fifty points, but Bucky still has some fight in him yet. And between work and sex and co-ownership of Paddington, Bucky’s already spending so much time with Sam that there’s no real way to increase the amount of time in “quality time”—but he can improve the quality of that time. If Bucky and Sam are boyfriends, Bucky figures, all that quality time should automatically count for more points than the quality time they spend together as coworkers with confusing feelings for each other, right?

Bucky’s lungs burn as he holds his breath held in anticipation of Sam’s response.

“Yeah, let’s be boyfriends,” Sam says, with a grin tugging at his lips.

Bucky’s heart soars in victory.

***

Bucky and Sam have decided not to bring Paddington with them to any future therapy appointments just in case Dr. Carson tries to take him away like Cruella de Vil.

This week, however, Dr. Carson shows up their session with a whole new vibe. Instead of striding imperiously into her office in her usual stern fashion, Dr. Carson blows in fifteen minutes late with the casual energy of a high school senior during the last week of school. She walks over to her desk, flip-flops slapping against her feet, and reclines back in her chair to prop her feet up onto the polished surface of her solid oak desk. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie like a suburban mom in an airport waiting to fly down to Miami for a Caribbean cruise.

“So how’s it going this week, boys?” Dr. Carson asks, slurping from the straw of her Big Gulp soda.

“Um, great.” Sam eyes her cautiously. “Bucky and I are boyfriends now.”

“No shit!” Dr. Carson says, and tilts her head back to squint down at them. “Huh. What do you know about that.” Then she shrugs. “Tell me how it happened.”

So Bucky and Sam tell her every detail of the last week, including the way they tenderly made love after Sam agreed to be Bucky’s boyfriend. Dr. Carson is clear-eyed and engaged the entire time, even during the five full minutes Sam devotes to the ripple of Bucky’s abdominal muscles as he strains toward orgasm, and Bucky’s just starting to think that maybe they can get some real therapy out of Dr. Carson when she says—

“So Fury’s transferring me to Hawaii.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“Yup.” Dr. Carson burrows deeper into her chair and lets out a relaxed sigh before taking another loud sip of her soda. “This is our last session!”

“So do we have a new therapist after this, or?” Sam waves his hand uncertainly.

“Nah, I’m just gonna go ahead and tell Fury that you guys are doing great. You’ve officially graduated therapy.”

Bucky chokes on air. “Excuse me, what? We graduated therapy?”

“Sure, why not?” Dr. Carson says with a lazy shrug. “Despite literally all of my expectations to the contrary, it seems like you guys have actually formed a stable partnership. Just, you know, maybe stop fucking so much at work.”

Bucky scoffs. “Listen, I didn’t give my life fighting Nazis in World War II—” he begins.

***

After Bucky and Sam’s appointment with Dr. Carson, Sam receives a text asking him to meet Fury in his executive suite.

Bucky heads back to his own office—his real one, buried deep within the bowels of SHIELD in a secret interrogation room someone bricked up the entrance to and then forgot about years ago. Bucky discovered it while crawling through the air ducts to place surveillance equipment in the offices of Nick Fury and the major SHIELD department heads. Once Bucky disposed of the mummified body he found inside—which, wow, super gross—it made the perfect private office space and server room.

Bucky opens his surveillance software just in time to hear Fury tell Sam that Bucky broke his best therapist.

“Dr. Carson is a highly trained professional at the top of her field,” Fury says, his voice stern. “I had to offer her a fifty percent raise to lure her away from private practice, and now I’m sending her away from D.C., where all of my elite agents reside, to Honolulu, which is where I send all the useless nepotism agents I’m forced to hire by the World Security Council. I don’t know what Barnes did to that woman but he just cost me a very experienced and expensive mental health professional.”

“And what makes you think Agent Barnes is at fault?”

“Dr. Carson is obviously not at liberty to divulge any specifics about what was said during your therapy sessions, but she did note that your bickering was ‘maddening’ and that she, quote, hadn’t even realized it was possible to overshare during therapy. She also indicated that Barnes instigated an invasive and traumatizing background check that caused her a great deal of personal distress.’”

“Given Agent Barnes’s history with SHIELD, I think it’s perfectly understandable that he may have sought reassurance that Dr. Carson wasn’t an agent of HYDRA.” Sam’s voice is bland and pleasant. “It’s hardly Agent Barnes’s fault that Dr. Carson turned out to have a surprisingly messy personal life.”

“Be that as it may, I’m suspending Barnes from active duty until he passes a second psych eval from another therapist.”

“With all due respect, sir, Agent Barnes has been nothing but cooperative in this retaliatory investigation into his mental state. He’s a skilled and creative fighter, a selfless and generous partner, and a brilliant tactician. He deserves to be treated with the same respect as any other SHIELD agent who hasn’t shot you.”

Jesus Christ, is Sam offering Bucky words of affirmation even when he’s not there to hear them? What kind of love language master is Sam? God, how can Bucky possibly compete with this?

Fury’s voice is strangled. “Retaliatory?”

“Yes,” Sam says firmly. “As far as I’m aware, Agent Barnes has cleared all mandatory psychological evaluations and then some. If you have a problem with his—or my—behavior in the workplace, I suggest you carefully review our employment contracts and initiate the appropriate disciplinary proceedings. In the meantime, I will be continuing with Agent Barnes as my partner. There will be no suspension.”

The sound of Fury’s office door slamming shut is unexpectedly erotic.

By the time Sam slides through the secret passageway into Bucky’s office, Sam looks calm and collected, like he hasn’t just returned from facing down a man with the power and authority to send him to one of a half-dozen black sites so secret they probably exist on other planets.

“So how’d the meeting go?” Bucky asks, suppressing a grin.

“Oh, it was fine,” Sam says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “We don’t have to do therapy anymore.”

Bucky lets his smile spread across his face. “Oh, yeah? No more retaliatory investigations into my mental state?”

When Sam realizes how Bucky must have overheard that remark, his eyes widen in delight. “I’m sorry, did you bug Fury’s office? Bucky Barnes, you crazy asshole, I love you so fucking much.”

Bucky freezes. Sam loves him? Adrenaline and exhilaration race through Bucky’s veins, spreading through his entire circulatory system until he feels like he’s going to buzz right out of his skin. For the second time in Bucky’s life, he’s been flung straight over the side of a cliff, except this time Sam has wings to catch him. God, this is why they call it falling, isn’t it?

Bucky is feeling so fucking affirmed right now. He has never felt so affirmed in his entire life.

And Bucky’s lost that stupid competition now, hasn’t he. There’s no way Bucky can compete with that declaration, no way he can pull off a victory after Sam just earned himself, like, fifty million points—but when Bucky looks at Sam’s gap-toothed grin, he thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s secretly won after all.

And he does have one last, best card to play.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky says, with a wide grin, “how do you feel about moving in together?”

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