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shibaraki · 6 months

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OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

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lavendermunson · 1 year

Text

dancing with our hands tied — eddie munson

୨ৎ ˙ ˖

summary Eddie seems to live in constant hell except when he is with you.

tags +18. eventual smut. friends to best friends to lovers. angst. pining. no upside down. slight chrissy x eddie and jealous reader. fingering. p in v without protection; be smart irl. no use of y/n, eddie calls reader peach. lose of virginity.

tw eddie has an older brother who punches him. slight mentions of blood and violence. alcohol. mention of drugs. if i forgot anything lmk!

w.c 7.6 k

a/n hey people! it’s the first time i write something like this. the fic is divided in tiny chapters that are titled by the lines of taylor’s song (see title) i hope it’s easy to understand and let me know if you like the format ♡ enjoy!

I. First sight, we love without reason.

It came to you as a surprise, really. The moment he sat down on the nearest seat to start the tutoring lesson. The secret is Eddie has always been good at English, it’s a thing among others that he kept as a secret. You weren’t sure why he would hide it, even lie about it.

You and Eddie became friends easily. But you wish the relationship had more meaning, you weren’t friends just school friends. The worst kind of friend you could be with someone as cool and pretty as Eddie.

One day, in the early morning of a cloudy Thursday Eddie attended school with a black eye. He rushed past you mumbling a kind Hey and going his way. You said hi back but it was too late, he was gone.

You missed him the rest of the day, he didn’t show up to class. His friends were alone at lunch. There was no sign of Eddie until later, tutoring sessions.

He slumps on the chair next to you, taking a deep breath and scratching his scalp nervously. His hands were shaking as he started to scribble on your textbook.

Your mind wasn’t focused on the textbook once, you looked longingly at the maroon-tinted bruise on his eye. A cut, maybe 12 hours old, rested on the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting” you whispered “I can’t keep my eyes off…your… are you okay, Eddie?” you pointed your finger at his eye, and he turned his head to look at you.

“Yeah, no don’t worry” he sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair and taking a deep look at your face.

Your mouth has formed a pout and your brows are furrowed, Eddie tried to read your mind and he succeeded. You were worried.

“My stupid older brother, he comes in unexpectedly, and when I tried to kick him out of the trailer he punched me”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Eddie” You lean your head to the side, his face looks better from this angle.

He looks tired, the punch looks like it hurts a lot, more if it came from a person of his own bloodline.

“You know what, we can study another time and you can go rest” Your hands are quick to close the textbook, gathering all your stuff as Eddie’s body comes closer to you.

He takes your wrist on his hand, with a little more pressure than intended. When your mouth leans to the side he realizes he is hurting you (not too much, but still he didn’t mean it).

“No, I'm sorry” he drops your hand on your lap, delicately “We can study, I'm fine. Please I need the money”

“I know, I will pay you. But I can’t sit here and I can't focus knowing you are in pain or your mind is somewhere else” You smile at him, and he nods.

“Thanks…I'm having a really bad day. I cannot thank you enough, tomorrow we can study double I promise”

“Don’t worry, I got you” You head out of the library beside him “Take care of that, it looks like it’s going to stay there for a while”

He giggles at your comment, you are not sure why. You pay him for today and he smiles at you.

“Thank you, Peach”

He didn’t talk about his family much, he wasn’t entirely sure if there was something interesting to talk about. His mom left a few years ago, along with his older brother, leaving little Eddie and Uncle Wayne alone.

You knew Wayne from one of Eddie’s stories he told you about. He loves the man like he is his own father, but he is in a lot of debt with him.

Wayne takes care of Eddie as if he’s his own child. He surely loves Eddie like that. He works most of the day and night leaving his nephew alone in the trailer park.

One of those cold and lonely nights Eddie’s brother came to visit him at the trailer park only seeking some money. He was out of luck, and so was Eddie, when his furious brother came in and punched him in the face. Not once, but twice.

Eddie’s head and face hurt the rest of the night. He unfortunately overslept and didn’t get a chance to start school properly so he chose to show up just to the tutoring sessions. He needed the cash, you needed help.

II. Picture of your face in an invisible locket.

A week has passed since Eddie’s brother came to town. You’ve grown closer to Eddie than before.

You hang out after school now that tutoring lessons are over, he invites you to Hellfire Club to watch the campaigns and you sit there watching the whole thing unravel. He had a great imagination, and a wonderful mind full of creative stories and riddles. The kids enjoy his company as much as you do.

He talked about his problems at home with you, trying to get the ugly feeling out of his chest. You listened to him buying him a cup of ice cream and enjoying the wonderful summer breeze.

“I enjoy being with you,” he said “You are a great friend, Peach”

You smiled at him. He smiled at you. His dimples showed up for the first time since you’ve known him, a simple gesture that knocked some sense on you, you had a crush on him.

“Me too, Eds”

Your relationship with Eddie has evolved, not only do you have pet names for each other but it seems like you are best friends. It’s been some weeks since the first time he offered to tutor you and you accepted immediately.

You’ve always liked Eddie, he is his true self every time and he is proud of it.

You admire it.

People at school used to call him awful names, it was always like that until he met Chrissy. The popular kids are the ones that make more fun of him as if it wasn’t exhausting for them to be assholes and jerks nine hours a day. They have toned their jokes down knowing that the queen of Hawkins has a soft place for Eddie and he is more than happy hanging out with her sometimes.

That made your heart ache, it was a dreadful feeling.

After spending some time with Eddie you went home. Still under that lavender haze of accepting that you had a crush on him for a while. It was embarrassing to you only because you were so, so obsessed with him.

His face. His hands. His scent. His hair. Realizing everything about him made you crazy was scary, he only had eyes for one person who was the most perfect cheerleader in the history of high school.

To distract your mind from all the lousy thoughts you took a shower, it was quick, you needed to brush off the sweat and release some tension with a thorough massage on your scalp. The lavender shampoo lingered in the air, relaxing every inch of your body.

After the shower, it was time to eat some dinner. Instead of making a complicated meal you decided to heat some leftovers from yesterday and enjoy your evening eating and dancing in the kitchen with some of your old records playing upbeat songs to cheer you up.

A knock on your door makes you jump after finishing dinner. No one used to come by at this hour, not when your dad was out of town.

You get close to the door and look through the peephole to see who’s interrupting your godly moment. It was Eddie.

A gasp falls out of your mouth and you open the door as quickly as possible. You meet Eddie’s trembling body standing in front of you, his lip is bleeding and his eyes are watering.

“God, Eds…” you whisper, he leans closer to you, wrapping his hands around your neck and hugging you.

You didn’t say anything else, just mirrored his movements and wrapped his waist with your arms. Taking a few steps back and leading him in, you close the door with your foot and he stands there, still not letting you go.

You rub his back as he tries to ease his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know where else to go so I-” he takes a step back breaking contact with you, his head falls as his eyes look at his feet.

“He, he did this to you again?” he broke contact so fast you decided to stay in your place, careful not to overwhelm him with unwanted touches.

“Yeah, shit shit, sorry I should've called. My mind sort of blacked out and the only thing I could remember was your street and the color of your house, the one with the weird birdhouse…”

“Eds, it’s okay” you interrupt “Let me help you, alright? let me clean your wound and make you some hot chocolate”

He nods, walking with you to the bathroom and past your bedroom. You are quick to find the first aid kit, taking some rubbing alcohol and gauze to clean Eddie’s cut. He hisses at the stingy feeling in his mouth, you apologize and he encourages you to continue.

And there you are, with the boy that you like so much. He leans on the counter closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel at peace with you around him.

You stand between his legs, his inner thighs rubbing the exposed skin of your thighs. The ungodly thoughts need to go away so you blink pretty fast, focusing, it’s not the moment nor the place nor the person.

You finish up cleaning his wound and placing a band aid over it to avoid any sort of discomfort while it heals.

“It’s ready” Eddie opens his eyes, finding you in front of him. So close. The white light in the bathroom makes you look like an angel.

“Thank you, peach” he squeezes your cheek slightly. Neither of you move from where you stand, so close to each other but so far at the same time.

“It’s nothing, let’s make you some chocolate”

“Wait, I'm not really hungry. I need to clear my mind and feel at peace for a bit, ‘m just gonna go back to my place to rest but again… thank you” he stands up straight and you step back, missing the heat of his body.

“No! you can’t go back, it's dangerous. My dad is out of town, you can stay here”

His head leans down to one side, he looks at you concerned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for my best friend” you say. It’s the first time you call him like that. It’s the first time anybody has called him like that.

“Thank you, again, thank you”

“No problem, let me get you some fresh clothes”

You get Eddie some of your oversized clothes that only get out of your closet on rainy days. You give him some space to change and freshen up in the bathroom, getting him a new toothbrush and a towel so he can wash his face.

When he gets out you offer him the guest room, he immediately denies it and asks if he can sleep with you. You shake your head and show him a gentle smile.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or bother you” he asks while you get the bed ready to sleep.

“It’s okay, Eds. I get that you don’t want to be alone, do not worry”

You get in bed, he drops his body beside you. Both of you rest your head on the pillows while looking at the ceiling.

“You can stay here in the morning if you don’t want to go to school, I do have to go and hand in this paper I’ve been working on”

“Thank you, I owe you one,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and letting out a sigh.

“You don’t, I’m happy to help you” You look at him, but he doesn’t look back. “Goodnight, Eds”

“Goodnight, sweetheart”

The pet name falls from his lips so beautifully.

You close your eyes with a smile plastered on your face, aware that the heat of your cheeks is present leaving a pink tint.

You are thankful it’s dark and Eddie is about to fall asleep so he won’t notice.

When you fall asleep Eddie does too. It takes him a couple of seconds to get into a deep sleep, he hasn’t slept like this in weeks, all thanks to the torture of his stupid brother and the constant thought of him coming back to punch him.

He feels safe around you and he is more than grateful to be your friend.

III. ‘Cause it’s gravity, keeping you with me.

Eddie has been staying over at your house multiple times, Your dad is out of town and you appreciate the company, his company. Sometimes he comes with you right after school, other times after he hangs out with Chrissy. You are not sure of what kind of relationship they have but it still hurts your heart every time he laughs at something she says.

You are thankful for having him over. The nights consist of movies, old tv shows, watching the commercials on the tv, and listing in your head what to buy next for these reunions.

The last slice of pizza remains in the box, it should be cold and washy but

Eddie is fine with it. He watches you from the corner of his eye, your gaze glued to him.

“Sorry, did you want the last slice?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts into reality.

“Huh? No, no you have it”

“Sure?”

“I hate it when the pizza is cold” Your mouth falls to the side, and you look at the slice with disgust.

“Bummer, I’ll have this baby for myself”

He raises his hand with the slice between his fingers, his head falls to the back and he takes a bite of the tip of the slice. You watch him in awe, not really thinking about how weird it is to watch Eddie eat, but your eyes can never leave his face. His mouth opens and his jaw tightens when he takes a bite, and another, and another until he finishes it.

“Don’t know why you pushed this aside, it was so good”

The corner of his mouth is full of tomato sauce and cheese grease, you laugh at him shaking your head.

“You have something… there” you point with your finger, Eddie furrows his brows and leans his head to the side looking like a confused puppy.

“Where? Here?” He wipes his mouth and smiles victorious, although it is the opposite side.

“No, here”

You get closer to him. His body is fully turned to the left so you sit in front of him kneeling.

He watches you getting close, he takes a deep breath as his Adam’s apple bobs as a result of his own nerves. You are too close, you’ve never been this close –just once when he hugged you – not even when you two are sleeping in your bed.

As you take the napkin to clean his face you get the opportunity to get closer, you wipe his mouth slowly and pinch his chin between your fingers. You breathe and he is mixing up, the room feels suddenly too hot.

Eddie wants to give in, he gets his head closer. He doesn't care about anything, just you. The only source of light is the TV which gives a shadow of multiple colors on your face, it’s adorable. Your body, your naked thighs, your pretty face so close. He is about to kiss you until you speak.

Shit.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot”

“How do you punch someone?” you ask, he shakes his head confused shaking off the thoughts he had earlier. He was so close to kissing you, but he couldn’t. You are his best friend.

“Wow,” Eddie laughs, grinning “Who do you want to punch, exactly?”

“I met someone”

Your news hit Eddie in the chest. He shouldn’t be feeling like this but he is… jealous?

“He told me to go to this party with him… and a friend told me I should be prepared for everything”

“Everything? Like if he wants to get in your pants you’d punch him?”

“Only if he is a real jerk and thinks he is too smart”

Eddie nods, he takes your hands in his standing up from the couch. You follow him.

“Alright, pay attention”

He drops one of your hands and takes your dominant hand in his, the cold rings on his fingers keep you from falling apart from his touch.

“The secret is in your hips and shoulders, that’s where the power comes from okay?”

“Yeah, but please don’t teach me how to kill someone. I just want to throw a little punch if needed”

“I know, peach” he laughs “Stand up like this” His stance looks professional, maybe he has done this before. Maybe to protect himself from his older brother.

“First things first, your stance gives you balance so you don’t fall to the floor and break your nose too y’know?”

“Am I going to break his nose?” you ask, a little scared of what you are getting yourself into.

“No! ‘M just saying. You don’t have a lot of strength to do that, don’t worry”

“Like this?” You mimic his stance, feeling a little awkward.

"Exactly. Now, focus on your fist” He hasn’t dropped your hand yet “Curl your fingers in, and tuck your thumb under them. This way, you won't hurt your hand when you punch”

“Why do I feel like I shouldn't be learning this?”

“You are fine, watch” Your hands form a perfect fist, Eddie holds it in his hands and tries to set you up on the perfect stance. Your knuckles turn a bit white as you focus on the lesson “See? Perfect”

“I got it”

"Now punch me,” he says, he is serious.

“What?”

“C’mon I’ve taken the worst punches, bet yours will feel light as a feather” he grins. Inside he feels dumb for aching your touch so much even if it means taking a hit “Twist your body and extend your arm in a straight line, then go straight to my cheek” his fingertip touches his cheek “Not my nose! Please” he remarks, but at the same time he is encouraging you.

“Alright,” you do as he says, swinging your arm back and forth. Your fist comes into contact with his cheek and he groans in pain, his head falls to one side.

“Jesus H. Christ!” he caresses his cheek with the palm of his hand “I underestimated you” A chuckle falls from his lips, and you are covering your mouth with your hands surprised. Your eyes are glassy.

“No, no don’t cry I’m fine”

“I’m so sorry Eddie. I thought- fuck, I didn’t see that coming! I am so fucking-sorry, sorry” you cry, your cheeks glow red as embarrassment washes over you.

“No, don’t” he is still laughing “Oh god, come here”

Eddie opens his arms and wraps them around your shoulders. This is the second time you hug him, and this time it feels different. One of his hands rubs your back to calm you down as you keep murmuring sorry. He keeps thinking you are the most adorable thing on the planet.

“Do we count this as tutoring? Am I getting cash for getting punched in the face?” he chuckles.

You bury your face in his chest, hugging his body tightly. He feels you trying to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah if you want”

“I'm joking, peach, you did good!”

You smile at the praise, although he can’t see it.

“Thank you for teaching me”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It was a pleasure” he breaks the hug, and his hands come to rest on your arms. He is not giving up touching you “I hope whoever you punch… you do it harder than this one” he smiles.

As you watch his face, hypnotized, you smile back.

“I will, only if he is a jerk…”

“Or thinks he is too smart, gotcha” he interrupts, filling up the rest of the sentence “But you know if someone bothers you, you can call me and I will kick his ass right?”

“I’m a big girl, Eds. I can take care of myself”

“That I see! ‘M just offering, You did good honey” He pinches your cheek, and the new pet name hits right above your stomach where your anxiety rests. He has never called you that before, you feel the heat on your cheeks.

“We- uhm, we should sleep is getting late” You watch the clock, it is 3 am already.

“Oh shit, yeah. Let’s go”

IV. I’m a mess but i’m the mess that you wanted.

Watching Eddie kissing Chrissy was a punch on the tits. His hands are on her waist, she grabs his jacket getting closer. Their mouths were glued to each other. You were sure this was the night, this was the night you would tell Eddie your feelings, but instead, you decided to meet up with the guy you told him about. Ignoring your feelings for Eddie.

Nothing ever comes out as you wish, after punching the guy for trying to touch your ass after he didn’t even know you were in his math class, you punched him. Your hand hurts, but it was worth it.

You try to find Eddie but he isn’t around. Ignoring the feeling in your chest, you decide to fill the guilt and the secrets with alcohol.

After a lot of refills, the living room’s bottles are empty so you make your way around the house to find more. That’s when you find Eddie, you take your sixth? seventh? Cup of the night and walk to him.

“Eds!”

Your voice is like honey to him, he didn’t want to be here but as soon as Chrissy mentioned you were coming with “the guy” he wanted to be there. She was nowhere to be seen after spending some time with him.

“I did it! I punched him!” you mumble, proud of your achievement and so, so drunk.

“Fuck, I missed it?”

“Yeah, I have been looking for you everywhere to tell you” You lie, you’ve seen him multiple times and ignored him. It was a decision that sober you took. Drunk you is a little more insistent “I didn't think you were coming”

“Chrissy wanted to be here, I'm just keeping her company… was, she left” he looks around, but she is still somewhere else.

Her name rings in your ears, your stomach crumbles.

“Well, let’s get drunk!”

Deep down Eddie is grateful that the guy you were meeting up with fucked up everything and now you are with him. Chrissy is nowhere to be seen and you seem like you need someone to watch you. Take care of yourself.

You are so drunk, your whole body feels light and your head is in the clouds. Maybe you are a little bit high too.

“Can we find somewhere more quiet? I wanna smoke” Eddie finds himself screaming, the music getting louder with the minutes.

“Sure, let’s go”

You hold a red solo cup with something in it, enough to make you more tipsy. You follow Eddie outside, to the porch. The night is hot and Eddie realizes your dress is too short. He takes a deep breath, looking at your thighs as you take a sip from the cup.

Eddie lights a cigarette and takes a peek at the party from outside, The window leaves a space so the warm light of the house hits your face. The night at your house, the one when he almost kisses you comes back to his head. A side of your face lit up by the chaos inside, yet you look so peaceful, so beautiful.

“I need more of this. I- shit I forgot the n-name” you slur your words again, taking a step forward. Eddie takes your wrist in his hand, stopping you.

“What the fuuuuck?” you say.

“I think that’s enough for today, let’s go home”

Your whole body is on fire, all of your insides begging for more alcohol.

“Home? What? I didn’t know we lived together!”

“C’mon, peach. You know what I mean” Eddie’s cigarette bounces on his mouth, his voice is firm and his free hand comes to cup your waist.

“No, no. Let’s go dance here” You take his hand, the alcohol makes you bold. He follows you to the living room after dropping his cigarette.

The music is too loud, you empty the cup you had and throw it away.

“I’ll be right back, need to take a piss'” Eddie says, disappearing. You don’t hear him.

His “girlfriend” is still ignoring him, but he remembers what she said. She got mad because he was looking for you, and she got jealous too. Chrissy wanted all the attention but Eddie was giving it to you.

He stopped eating lunch with her, he was with you instead. Talking about random tv commercials that you thought were clever, it was some of an inside joke.

As he comes back from the bathroom he hears a crowd cheering, he is so done with this party, tired of the happy sappy music playing over and over, and the smell of sweat and alcohol makes him sick. He makes an effort to find you and he does.

There you are, standing on the table dancing. You were dancing, making some sexual moves that all the guys were screaming. Your hips move as the music gets to your ears, the whole room electrified by this little show.

Eddie’s face goes beet red, he can’t take this. He isn’t enjoying this.

Jealousy takes over him and he grabs your hand, yanking you down and letting you fall on his shoulder.

He carries you away from the table, a hand comes behind your back and he places his palm on your ass in an attempt to stop your dress from going up. You feel the cold of his rings again, your whole body lights up in anger as he carries you outside.

“Let me down! Eddie, I'm not joking!”

“Whine for as long as you want, I’m taking you home”

“Eddie please, I'm going to throw up”

He gives up, he lets you down and you pick up your breath. You place a hand on your belly trying to steady yourself and make the nausea go away.

“I need a moment… just give me a–”

“No! I know you will go back inside. You can’t even walk by yourself”

“Yes, I can! Don’t- don’t try to babysit me” you bicker.

He lets out a deep sigh, he is not letting you go back and you know it.

He wants to protect you, but more, he wants you to be with him and not dancing and showing off for anybody else. Yes, he was jealous and it was time to admit it. His feelings for Chrissy were never as intense as what he feels when he is with you.

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that!” you scream, his eyes open wide.

“Please just-”

He tries to hug you but you don’t let him.

“I'm not your sweetheart! The other day you called me like that too and I- what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t- fuck, what are you talking about?” Eddie is confused, you are acting like you don’t want him around, and that hurts him.

“I- I like you, Eddie! I fucking like you so bad but you… You don’t and I know it!” you have no time to breathe, the alcohol encourages you to confess your feelings.

“Peach-”

“No! No, I- I like you since that first day of tutoring… I’ve liked you since then and you don’t know how fucking hard it is to oh- sleep with you and you- almost fucking kissed me and I panicked. This, you, her- it’s too much ah- go away!” you cry out, your head is spinning and you can feel your temples aching.

This wasn’t planned, future you will kill you for this. But right now in the heat of the moment, you let Eddie know how you feel. Your whole body aches and your heart is shattered.

“I know you like her! Just- I don't want to talk to you right now!”

A salty taste lingers in your mouth, your tears. Your arms ache from the sudden cold breeze as the night gets darker. It’s maybe two or three in the morning. You are drunk and high. Eddie’s brain seems to stop working.

He is quiet, looking at the grass under his feet. It hurts seeing you like this.

“Fuck!” you turn around and start walking, thinking you can walk home from here knowing it’s impossible.

“Hey! Let me take you home”

You stop.

“Please, I won't stay. I’ll drop you off and go to my trailer- you can’t get home by yourself” he is right.

You don’t move. Too heartbroken to say everything else or even turn around to see him. You are ashamed, he can’t even look you in the eyes.

He sees you waiting for him and he asks you to follow him to his van.

The ride home is long and torturous. He didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but you don’t blame him. Who could fall for a mess like you?

You fall asleep in the passenger seat of his van, he opens the door carefully and carries you to your bed. He wants to change your clothes but he knows it is not okay, he does peek at your naked thighs before covering your body with the sheets.

His calloused fingers move the hair off your face “I like you too, peach” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead before leaving. You can’t hear him of course, he knows it damn well.

V. Deep fears that the world would divide us.

The last time you talked to Eddie was two weeks ago. He didn’t know how to talk to you since that night, he didn’t know what to tell you. It is now summer break, you are in your bed facing the ceiling and letting the air from your window hit your sweaty body.

You were so bored. Without Eddie it feels like the world just turned gray, you regret everything you said that night. He never should’ve known.

He is now in his trailer, maybe with Chrissy. Your brain starts to think of a hundred scenarios. They could be spending time at the local pool, going to starcourt and eating ice cream, trying on some new clothes, or playing at the arcade.

You miss him. Your whole body aches without him by your side. Your bed feels so empty.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, you are all alone in this gigantic house. It doesn’t feel like home, not without him.

You can’t pick a book and read it to kill time because every book you own is about romance.

You can’t watch movies without Eddie’s sudden comments.

You can’t even watch fucking commercials without him.

So you just let yourself on your bed, waiting for the sheets to swallow you whole.

Night came by after a nap, it was time to close the windows to stop the mosquitoes. It was time to eat so you headed down to the kitchen, the leftovers seem to always keep you company.

You wish he came back. Knocking at your door and getting in. Kissing you.

It doesn’t happen. To you. But it can happen to him.

You take your keys in your hands and head down to the trailer park, it isn’t that late so you go by yourself. With your clammy hands tapping on the steering wheel and a feeling of uncertainty.

It takes you from ten to fifteen minutes to get there and you park your car close to Eddie’s trailer. You’ve given him a ride home before, you know where he lives.

As you get closer to his trailer you hear screams. The door of his trailer opens suddenly and makes you jump. A tall and slightly old man comes out of the trailer, his white tank top is covered with some blood.

No, no, no. You mumble under your breath and run to the trailer. You find Eddie with a cut on his lip, his eye is purple already and his nose is bleeding.

“Eddie?” you whisper, he panics.

“No, no you can’t be here” he gets up from the floor and places his hands on your arms, pushing you out.

“Why? Please I just want to talk”

“You can’t be here! He- if he does something to you I’m never going to forgive myself Please just leave” his breath quickens, and his chest rises up and down. He is nervous, he is scared. The feelings are contagious.

“Come with me, please. Eds-”

“Just fucking leave! please please please, leave right now”

Nothing you do is going to convince him you should stay, as much as you want to. You hear screams of an angry man getting close to the trailer.

Running out back to your car and driving home, the radio becomes an annoying background noise screeching. Your heart is beating so fast out of fear, and your hands are trembling.

You set yourself down on your bed once you get home. You are scared of what could happen to Eddie. You know he is in danger and you also know he doesn’t want to see you.

The tears come back, your eyes are blurry and the walls feel like they are closing in and are about to crush you. You cover yourself with the sheets, as some type of protection, just like when you were little and scared. Yes, you are scared now, so fucking scared. But there is nothing you can do now so you sleep, and you fall asleep crying, again.

VI. I'd kiss you as the lights went out.

The next day goes by quickly, it’s currently midnight and you are sitting in front of the tv watching a random documentary about dolphins. You’ve slept all day so sleep is not an option. A huge bucket of ice cream in your hands gives you a cold feeling of serenity.

A knock on the door makes you jump, the thing you’ve been waiting for.

You open it quickly, and Eddie is there. You look at him with sadness in your eyes, some of his wounds have healed since yesterday.

“Before you say anything… I am sorry, sweetheart” You don’t let him in, and he doesn’t take a step forward “I like you too. I like you so much. I tried to date Chrissy because I thought I could get my mind distracted by the fact that I'm crazy for you. "He licks his lips, he moves his hands in the air as he always does when he explains something or rambles about a thing he loves.

“I was scared to tell you, that night at the party I swear all I could think about was- fuck, I wanted to rip those clothes off of you and kiss every part of your body but I was fucking terrified” his chest rises up and down, his heart is bumping in his ribcage. “I didn’t want to say anything because

I didn’t want to lose you, You are too good to me and I didn’t want you to be with someone like me-”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me” you interrupt, your own heart is beating so fast it could burst.

“I know, I know. That’s why I'm here… is it too late to hang out? Look, I slept all day and some little bird named Steve told me the sunrise at Lovers Lake looks awesome and I really just want to be with you”

You look at him, he is standing at your door confessing his love to you and, weirdly, it doesn’t feel like a dream. It all feels too real, too peaceful.

“A date at midnight? Did you plan this because you look like you even showered”

He lets out a big laugh. You see those dimples you love so much.

“I- I wouldn’t see it as a date because I think we’ve had tons of them” he shakes his head, and his curls bounce with the movement. “Pretty please? Join me on this adventure”

“We must be connected by some kind of thread because I slept all day too” you chuckle, he laughs with you “Sure, I want to be with you. Let me change and I’ll be right back”

You head upstairs quickly as Eddie goes back to his van for something.

With the quickest movements in the world, you manage to get yourself some pretty clothes, a tiny bit of makeup and fix your hair.

Running to the first floor to meet Eddie, your legs stop working as he stands up in your living room with a bouquet.

“You did have this prepared” You are smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt, but you can stop it. After days of missing him, he is now here and everything feels right.

“I did. You look- you look beautiful” he looks at you from the bottom to the top, taking every detail of your figure. “I mean, you always look so beautiful I just-”

You come closer to him, he hands you the bouquet and you take it.

“You are beautiful too, Eds”

Your fingers touch his cheeks, he feels the warmth and breathes in to take everything in. Your scent, your touch, the closeness. Your cheeks have a pink tint from blushing and it makes you look so pretty. He leans in and in a second, his lips are touching yours.

You gasp at the sudden feeling, your whole body electrifies. His hands come to rest on your lower back, keeping you close to him. Your hands travel to his shoulders as you stand on your tippy toes.

His lips trap your bottom lip, sucking in your taste. Your whole heart flutters as your head goes back to catch some air.

“I wanted to do that for so long”

Goosebumps travel from your arms to your lips, missing him already.

“Me too” you bite your lip.

“C’mon, let’s go watch the sunrise sweetheart”

VII. Deep blue but you painted me golden.

The trip to Lovers Lake in the middle of the night resulted in love confessions and a heavy make out session, Eddie packed the back of his van with christmas lights, sheets, and blankets along with some pillows.

You and Eddie sitting in front of each other, his lips crashing into yours as sweet as honey.

“So yeah- that time when you sat down and started tutoring me I fought so hard to pay attention but I just loved the sound of your voice” You take a sip of beer.

“It was hard to teach you when your confused face is just so adorable.

Every pout you gave me was a kiss I wanted to give you” Eddie laughs.

“You can give me all the kisses you want now, I'm all yours”

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, his face glows pink and you let out a chuckle.

“Honey, I will” he takes a sip from his own beer, finishing it.

Alcohol makes both of you giddy, dozy, and dumb. Or maybe it’s just the love you have for each other.

“What time is it?” you murmur against his lips, his hands travel from your waist to the back of your head.

“I have- no idea” he stops, with his head leaned slightly back he watches you. Your lips are puffy and pink, his too. Both of you have a maroon tint on your cheeks. “It’s almost six, we have time” he peeks at the clock on his left hand.

“Alright, c’mere” With your hands placed on his shoulders, you try to get closer to him.

You kiss him. He is addicted to your taste already.

This time the kiss is messy and uncoordinated. His teeth collide with yours, saliva drops from the corner of your mouth.

With a firm hand caressing your back, Eddie helps you fall back with your body pressed against the sheets. Your head rests on a pillow as he gets comfortable on top of you.

You can feel the van getting hotter, a cloud of passion and love around you. Eddie makes a quick move with his knee as it presses against your hot core.

Absent-mindedly you start to grind against his knee, feeling the combination of friction with his sloppy kisses sending chills through your spine.

His lips now travel all the way to your neck, he presses sweet wet kisses against your skin.

“Eddie-” you whisper, letting the air out of your lungs. “I want you”

You have been dreaming about this, he has been dreaming about this.

This moment. This very golden moment is going to live in your head forever.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your collarbone, his lips tingling your skin.

“I’m sure, please”

He takes a break from the kisses, looking at your sweet face.

“Have you ever…?” he asks.

“No,” you bite your lip nervously.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise”

You nod, and he returns to kissing your neck. One of his hands travels to your thighs, he gives a slight massage on them making his way closer to the heat between your legs.

His cock gets hard against his pants as he feels the wet spot between your legs.

“You are so soaking wet, peach-”

With both hands, he takes off your panties, gently. He is so gentle with you.

“And so, so pretty”

Eddie starts to rub your clit with his thumb, his circular motions make your toes curl. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. With his mouth pressed against your jaw two of his fingers get inside you slowly, the pain of it quickly goes away and turns into lust. His fingers move in and out, making sure not to hurt you and make you feel good.

Your back curls and your thigh touches the bulge on his pants.

“Eds, please”

“What do you want, princess? Say it”

“I want you to fuck me”

Your voice makes his heart flutter. He leans in to kiss you more as he curls your fingers inside you.

“Oh god, Ed-Eddie” you mewl, your head too giddy to make up words.

“Good girl” his voice is now deeper, and his pupils dilate as his body perks up with electricity.

His fingers leave your pussy, you whine and he tells you not to worry.

He is gentle on taking your clothes off, smiling after admiring every inch of you. He wets his lips with his tongue admiring your figure.

“You are so fucking beautiful, princess”

“You too, baby”

The mood has clearly changed, you are still so horny and whining for each other. But Eddie has decided to take his time to make you feel like the princess you are.

Your hands help him take his clothes off, you admire his bare chest and your eyes focus on his tattoos. When he takes his pants and boxers off it is inevitable for you to take a look.

Your mouth waters at the sight. Eddie caresses your cheek and leaves small kisses on your lips as he goes inside you. You feel his hot cock

inside you, it twitches as you stretch and leave out a louder moan.

A grin shows up on Eddie’s face as he thrusts into you. Your nails scratch his back slightly. He feels his skin burn.

“Feeling good?”

“Yes, god yes”

He groans at the same time he increases the speed. Your moans get louder and he kisses your neck again, his bare chest meets yours and you whimper. He is moving on top of you, his cock inside you, and his chest rubs your nipples.

The tiny knot in your stomach untangles as chills go down your spine. You moan as your orgasm comes to you.

“You are such a good girl, go on cum for me”

His words are sweet, he keeps praising you as you finally come.

“So so good baby, I’m going to-”

He moves back but your hands are quick to tangle around his neck, not letting him leave.

“Do it, baby. Cum all over me”

Your encouraging words get into Eddie’s head, his thrust becomes sloppier as he relaxes and he comes into you as requested.

The hot sticky combination of cum slides down your legs as Eddie hugs you and pulls you to him to the side. His back is now pressed against the dirty sheets, your head falls in his chest.

He kisses your forehead and runs his hand through your back.

The sun starts to show up.

Eddie leans forward to open the back doors of his van, he comes back to his place next to you as quickly as possible and hugs you harder.

The lake glows with a yellow tint, the water now shows a baby blue color.

“I love you, sweetheart”

Surprised you turn your head to look at him, you give him a big smile.

“I love you too”

You stay there a couple of minutes, touching each other and loving each other.

there it is! my little baby. feedback is appreciated REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR! and DON’T throw a punch like it has been described!!!

tagging everyone who interacted, tysm 💕

@ali-r3n @witchwolflea @ghostlyfleur @littlegingerbat @live-love-be-unique @expiredcum21 @emma77645 @silent-stories @hellfirenacht @eddiemunson95 @tenthmoon

#leia writes ⊹ ꒱#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x f!oc #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x best friend

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller.

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you.

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed.

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.”

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.”

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.”

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says.

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?”

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.”

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester.

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers.

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.”

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...”

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.”

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...”

“A con? Oh, wow--”

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?”

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.”

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...”

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no.

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly.

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones.

“Jacob?” You murmur.

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.”

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.”

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.”

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track.

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.”

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.”

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.”

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...”

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.”

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.”

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation.

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive.

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell.

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was.

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed.

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home.

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message.

‘Hey, you home?’

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊'

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears.

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side.

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face.

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund.

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky.

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order.

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds.

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’

You sigh.

‘Time got ahead of me.’

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’

‘Sure. Tmrw.’

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe.

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful.

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.”

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.”

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts.

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks.

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?”

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up.

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully.

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.”

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.”

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game.

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing.

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.”

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.”

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.”

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead.

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart.

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work.

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #end game #series #defending jacob

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httpscomexe · 2 months

Text

Forbidden Secret Desire

Summary: You just can’t seem to find yourself in this stupid school for freaks, but just when you’re sure no one cares anymore, a man with adamantium claws disturbs your groaning with a promise. Except he forgot to mention everything good comes with a price.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Anxiety, hints to violence, loneliness, I guess angst, manipulation (The reader is helpless and will look for anything to make her happy), some hints towards suggestive material near the end, bad language word use, pet names.

Word Count: 3523 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Xavier's Mansion.

Also known as the school for “Gifted Youngsters,” or simply for what society prefers to call, “Freaks.”

You’d been there for a few months. You have a very unique power, something even Xavier himself doesn’t understand how to control.

You get these looks all the time when you're walking in the halls of the mansion. You notice it when people cover their mouths to whisper about you and you can’t not notice it when you seem to create a bubble around you as some of the kids try to keep a distance.

Yea, it hurts. You couldn’t deny that either. Sometimes you’d even have to find a restroom really fast to cry to yourself in one of the stalls, but even that hurts when some of the students quickly flood out of the restroom after you enter.

Nobody knew how much it hurt you, nobody even knew what powers you really had. If they did, you would’ve already been sent to the ice box, but luckily, you didn’t know how to use your more dangerous powers. You figured Xavier probably knew about them, considering he can read your mind and he knows just exactly how powerful you really were, but he didn’t know if you knew about them. And what you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

The hardest part was going to class. While everyone else had a table of four people, you sat alone. You did every project alone, with high soaring grades by the way, and you never got to speak to anyone during discussion or free time before the bell rang.

Sometimes you wish you were just… normal.

Of course, you weren’t the only person that was avoided. There were a few other students and even some of the adults that were always avoided. The only true friend you seemed to have was Hank McCoy. Everyone used to fear him, thinking that he couldn’t control the “Beast,” so he knows how you feel. But sometimes it only felt like he tolerated you because you were smart, and you were the only student that could aid him in building anything related to tech, and nanotech, and coding, and all that good stuff.

“Have you figured out why it isn’t working?” Was the first thing he asked you as you walked into his lab. Not a good morning, no how’s class, and not even hello. “I was thinking it had something to do with our maths, that maybe we calculated something wrong but I’ve looked over it again and again and couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it.” He tells you, picking up his notebook which you could see was now full of mathematical equations and random scribbles which seemed to radiate with frustration.

“I don’t think we got the maths wrong, I’ve checked it about a thousand times.” You say quietly, then gently put your bag full of books down under one of his desks so it wasn’t in the way. “Pretty sure it just needs to be smaller. Nothing really about maths though. Other than that, the fibres need to be smaller.”

“So it is the maths?”

“Eh, kind of.” You groan a little and stretch before grabbing a small, delicate pair of tweezers. “This is still too big.” You tell him, placing a sample of part of your tech down under a microscope, strong enough you’re surprised it couldn’t see atoms. “See, this is about as thick as a piece of hair, which is about the size of…” You sigh, looking back at your maths. “It’s about 50,000 nanoparticles, so not a lot, but we need it to be a little smaller.” You tell him, then look away from the small bit of tech to look up at him, his eyes squinted in your direction as is he was trying to understand what you were saying. “Okay I’ll dumb it down. It’s about as thick as a piece of hair right now, we need to numb it down to about… only one hundred nanoparticles, so it should be about as thick as graphene.”

“What’re you two nerds going on about now?” Another voice cuts into your explanation. It was none other than the gruffy voice of Wolverine.

“Oh hey, Logan.” Hank abandons the workstation to go over Logan who was making himself some coffee. “Just figuring out something about nano…”

“Nanoparticles.” You finish his sentence.

“Yea, that.” He says plainly, not bothering to look at you as you turn away from their conversation and look through the microscope.

“Now how do I make you that small…” You whisper to yourself, gently lifting the particle string with your delicate tweezers and examining it through the microscope. “Hmm…” You hum to yourself.

“Y/N!” Hank calls for you, and you turn around. “I’m going out to pick up some lunch for the both of us. What would you like? I’m getting Mexican.” You tell him what you would like, and he takes a moment to clean his work area and stuff his wallet in his pocket before he finally leaves. Leaving you to stand by your desk, doing all the work that has to do with nanotech, but also leaving the Wolverine with you.

“So what exactly are you two working on?” You hear his voice behind you, then you see him next to you.

“Teleportation. Not as complicated as you think, it’s just the fear that gets to everyone really.” You look away from your work, and your eyes land on him. His arms crossed as he leaned on a nearby table, showing enough respect to not sit on your working table.

“Seems complicated. What could possibly be scary about it though? It's just teleportation.”

“Well. If you think deeper into it. Your body and every single atom and particle of your body has to be completely broken down into an uncountable amount of smaller pieces and then your body has to rebuild itself in the secondary location, you just have to hope that it rebuilds you correctly. Or the next thing you know half your right arm is also half of your left leg with toes for fingers.” You say without taking a breath, taking a deep breath after letting it all out. Staring back up at him, his eyes were now squinted in confusion.

“I don’t think anyone is scared of that except you. I’ve never even thought about that.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his scalding hot black coffee.

“Yea well… I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things.” You tell him through gritted teeth, mumbling before grabbing your notebook.

“You know…” He pauses, placing his hot coffee mug on another table away from your work before walking back up next to you, placing his palms on your table where there wasn’t electronic junk lying around. “You aren’t the only one.”

“The only one?” You question, turning and grabbing another tool before looking under your microscope, turning the string around to try and figure out how to break it into a smaller piece, without actually breaking it.

“The only one that’s feared.”

You stop what you’re doing, still looking into the microscope but not actually paying attention to what was right in front of your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way some of the other kids look at you, bub. Like there’s something wrong with you. I know how it feels to not fit in.” He crosses his arms as he leans against your table, attempting to get your full attention. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’ve seen you in the halls. Your name is Y/N, right?” You nod, his eyes and yours locked onto each other. “Logan.” He says, reaching his hand out to shake yours. Your hand basically gets engulfed by his as your soft hand meets his, which were rough and still yet soft, that surprised you, considering… “Hank talks about you a lot also. Not like he loves you or anything, he just tells me you’re smart. Like really smart.” He shrugs.

“Hm…” You hum a little. This is the first conversation you’ve had with someone in this school where they’ve actually treated you like a real human.

“Considering the way you explain this stuff, I’d say he’s probably right about you being smart.” He nodded towards the nanoparticles still sitting under your microscope, it was hard to see from even a foot away considering it was the width of a single piece of hair. “So what exactly is a nanoparticle? Or nano…”

“Nanoparticle" is correct. It just like a piece of tech or anything made of tech like certain fibers that can be visible to the naked eye but they’re very small. Just this one piece is the width of 50,000 nanoparticles.” You carefully pick up the string, and gently put it in it’s container.

“And what was that other thing you mentioned earlier?”

“Graphene?”

“Yea.”

“It’s made of about 50 to 100 nanoparticles, and it can be seen with the naked eye through a refraction of light in a mirror or clear substance that has a bend in it.”

“I’m not completely sure what any of that means. But I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Yea, I’m kind of a nerd.” You chuckle awkwardly, then reach down to pull your bag over your shoulder, your social battery is pretty much near zero for the day, or maybe week. This was you first time ever speaking to Wolverine and you just nerd out on him? What were you thinking?

“Alright, I got food. Where are you heading?” Hank finally comes back, a bag full of boxes with the three of your foods in them in his right hand as he enters the lab, letting the metal door close behind him.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, I was gonna go back to my room.”

“Well you know the rules. No food in the rooms.”

“Yea, yea. I know.” You sigh, setting your bag back down as he hands you your box of food and you hop onto one of the clean counters to sit down as you eat your food.

“Have you seen Xavier today?” He asks Logan, handing him his food also.

“No, he’s out on some special mission with Mystique right now, won’t be back for about another week.”

“And what does he have you doing? You never leave your room so I’m assuming he's’ got you doing something?” Hank stands next to Logan as they both talk back and forth.

“He has me teaching his third class and fifth class. I guess that one is the anger management class and the other is meditation.”

“Ah, so he’s got you teaching the two classes you used to fail in.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

After working in the lab, a lot shorter than usual, you actually head back to your room. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been ecstatic to meet Wolverine for years, and when you finally get to have a conversation with him, you just geek out on him about nanotech?

As you hang your bag on the wall and remove your jacket only to throw it on the back of your desk chair, you can’t help but want to just smash your head on a wall until you’ve forgotten about everything that’s happened today.

You mope as you walk into the centre of your small room, stopping and staring at the mess on your desk, a bunch of full notebooks covered in little pen markings of maths and science that no one else in the school would understand.

You walk to the desk, take one of the notebooks in your hand that had some free space left, and drop down on your bed. Reaching behind your head, you pull your sweater over your head and discard it on the floor before leaning against your headboard and clicking the back of your pencil until the led is at your desired length.

As soon as the tip of the led touches the paper, your mind wanders. That was so embarrassing… You realise, scribbling random maths into your notebook. I can’t believe I just made a professor hate me too… Not only had you dissociated, but you also completely nerded out. You talked about nanoparticles as if it was the only thing you cared about. You care about more though. You care about the family that was so scared of you they sent you off to this stupid school, calling you a freak and breaking all ties with you. No, you don’t care about them. But you care about your friends so much! You don’t have any friends. Hank is very special to you, he holds a space in your heart. A very, very small space. Yea he doesn’t care about you, you’ve just been able to make about a thousand breaks in his experiments. Then of course he would take all of the credit when he would show it to Professor X.

Why do you even try? I guess working with Hank is the equivalent of the other students going out to the mall with their friends. The only difference is he wasn’t your friend.

You take it back, you had one friend. If you could even call someone you only text cause you’re too scared for actual confrontation, a friend. Nightcrawler- or Kurt. The one guy who’s ever made an actual effort to try and be your friend, he’s just always out on missions. Or so that’s what his actual friends tell you. Maybe you should send him a text and actually verify whether he hates you or not… You get up from your bed and unzip your bag, sticking your hand into the pocket where you always shove your phone, but it’s not there. What the fuck? You take your bag off it’s hook and search the rest of the pockets, and still no phone. You go to your bed, searching under the covers and getting on your knees to check under the bed, still no phone. You check your desk, your discarded sweater, and you sweep the floor with your eyes looking for it, thinking it might’ve just fallen out of your pocket. You hate seeming desperate for a simple device that rots your brain to default, but God that phone is your escape.

“Hey, is everything alright-?” A voice cuts into your messy search as you turn around and your door is cracked just enough for him to stick his head in.

“Sorry, Mr. Howlett, I just can’t find my phone.” You chuckle awkwardly, standing in the centre of your room as he peeks around your room at the mess you’ve created.

“Again, you can call me Logan. I don’t mind it, I prefer it actually. Do you mind if I step in?”

“Yea, it’s fine. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t really had time to clean it.” You nervously link your fingers together in front of you and let your thumb pick at your skin as he comes in, closing the door gently behind him.

“It’s not a mess, just a sweater on the floor and notebooks on the bed.” Sweater on the floor. Of course. Yea, you were standing in the centre of your room, in your shorts and a black fucking clasp on bra. Now you suddenly feel naked standing in front of him, so you cross your arms, hoping to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

“Well uh, what’s up?” You try sounding cool but immediately cringe.

“You left this in the lab.” He tells you, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out your phone, handing it to you backside up, so you could see the glittery phone case, adorned with pink sparkles. “Was gonna give it to you in class but you kids go crazy over your phones.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go crazy…” You tell him, humour in your voice as you awkwardly look around your room, the sheets halfway off the bed and your pillows tossed in the middle, the result in the crazy search for your phone. “Would just be a little annoyed…”

“So is everything okay?”

“Yea, why do you ask?”

“I was knocking on your door and sayin’ your name. but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh,” You laugh dryly. “Sorry, sometimes I get lost in my head and kinda just block out all sounds and sometimes I’ll block out what’s in front of me."

“Oh I see.” What do I say to respond to that? “What were you working on?” Why is he still here?

“Honestly, I don’t know, I was just scribbling.”

“Had enough maths for the day?” He jokes.

“Had enough maths for the month.” You mumble, but then he laughs. A short laugh. But a laugh nonetheless. Isn’t he annoyed by you? Why is he still- “What would you be doin’ if Hank didn’t have you doing all this brain stuff?” Oh.

“Well uh, nothing probably.”

“Not one for hanging out with your friends?”

“Friends? Hah!” You laugh with sarcasm, then walk over to your discarded sweater, bending over to pick it up, deciding to distract yourself with cleaning. “It's not easy for a freak to make friends.” You mumble to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear, of course, he did.

“You’re not a freak.” He crosses his arms as you look over your shoulder at him.

“Yea sure. Everyone in the school would so easily disagree with you on that.” You say back, folding the sweater before tossing it into your dirty laundry basket. “Professor X won’t even let me leave the school because he doesn’t trust me. I’m sure you’re no different.” Shit that was supposed to be said in your head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’d smack yourself right now if it wouldn’t make you look stupid, if he wasn’t in your room still.

“So you think everyone’s the same?” He asks, more of a statement.

“No I- I don’t mean it like that. I just-” He clears his throat.

“Come here.” He demands, looking into your fucking soul. So of course, with a gaze as threatening as his. You stand right in front of him after you walk up to him like Bambi in a traffic headlight. Wobbly, and frozen. “Good, now look at me.” Oh, you forgot that part.

You looked away from his shirt, and tilted your head back to look up into his eyes and for a man who’s so adept at killing his eyes were so soft, and broken…

“If you didn’t randomly blank out, you would’ve also heard Xavier when he told you the only time you could leave, is if it’s with someone else in case there’s an emergency.”

“Emergency from what? Me losing my temper?”

“Exactly that.” Is what shuts you up. “When I said I know how you’re feeling, I meant it.” His voice softens, and you feel your throat knot as you hold back embarrassing tears. “It wasn’t easy for me to make friends either, but honestly I prefer to be in a small crowd. Normally I’m not the one to comfort a student, but you just don’t seem to want to talk to anyone. Why’s that?”

“I’ve tried talking to people. They just give me a look and then walk away.”

“Does that actually happen? Or is that just what it feels like?”

Shit. You hate to admit it, but he makes a point.

What the fuck. Was your next thought as his hand moved up and he gently placed his hand on your cheek.

“I know you hate everyone at this school from the fucking bottom of your heart, but I’m gonna have you try to refrain from hating me. We can strike a deal by letting me take you out of the mansion. I’m sure you’d love to get out, can’t remember the last time you left.”

“Never have.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. Your voice is only quiet so your tears aren’t cascading down your face.

“Well if you can just promise to behave, and tell me when you’re getting stressed, then I’ll supervise you like Xavier wants.” He tells you, promising some sort of freedom. “I’m not saying I’m scared of you. If anyone is scared of what you can do, it’s you. Am I right?” You nod. “Use your words, bub.”

“Yea…” Your voice cracks as you barely mutter an entire word.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly, then he suddenly pulls you into a hug. “I’ve got you.” He gently rubs your back, which by the way is still bare since you never got to throw on another shirt. “Just cancel your plans with Hank, I can help you more than he ever will…”

He promises. His fingers gently run over the metal clasps on the back of your bra as you loosely wrap your arms around him, embracing his hug and you nod, not able to formulate any more words as you cry quietly against his chest, your tears wetting his shirt as you both stand there in silence. A quiet smirk on his face as he holds onto you…

#marvel #marvel smut #smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #wolverine #logan #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan x reader

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realcube · 3 months

Text

YAKU MORISUKE THIRST

a/n → inspo x y @4unnyr0se. ik his bday isn't until august but really everyday is his bday!!

tws/tags → age gap (yaku is 30, reader is ~20), vaginal, breeding, foodplay (kinda not really) & impactplay

hearing his footsteps hobble down the stairs, in a typical lazy morning fashion, you hide behind the table, peering over the top of it so that when he turns the corner to enter the kitchen, you can jump out and yell,

"surprise!" while blowing into your party horn.

yaku appears to be mid stretch, but falters when he hears your cheer, a small smile creeping onto his tired features. "what's this?" he rasps.

you motion proudly to the cake you had made that sat in the centre of the kitchen table, adorned with a single flickering candle. "birthday stuff! come, make a wish."

he sheepishly hides behind his palms as he makes his way over to the cake, "honestly, i forgot about my birthday."

"that's alright. memory loss is normal part of aging." you blow into the horn again as encouragement for yaku to proceed, but the sudden loud noise only causes him to wince, along with your cheeky comment.

"i'm not that old!" he argues, and you simply nod.

"you're right. you don't look a day over forty." you pinch his cheek and he rolls his eyes, glancing between you and the cake, subcontiously trying to decide which looks more delicious.

you hadn't changed out of your pyjamas because you wanted to be quick in preparing his surprise, and of course he wasn't expecting this at all which is why he was also still wearing his night shirt and shorts.

your hair was a mess too, you hardly had time to do it so it was currently thrown into a loose updo, with strands hanging down in front of your face. it was so sweet, and you were so cute even when dimly illuminated by the weak light of the candle; it was like you were glowing.

yaku was lost in his thoughts, staring at you, until you pulled him back to reality by asking, "make your wish. you're not getting any younger." you giggle, and he exhales sharply in huff.

"you're not getting any younger either, y'know."

"but i'm already young so that doesn't really matter."

"are you saying i'm old?" yaku tried his best to seem offended, but he struggled to suppress the wide grin that gave him away.

you shrug, averting your gaze, also doing your best not to burst out into laughter. "if the shoe fits."

"well let's see if the shoe fits up your ass!" he roars, stepping around the table to swing his leg up in your direction, to which you promptly jump away from, defensively swatting your arms at him.

"yaku!" you yelp, stumbling back against the kitchen counter.

he chuckles and you wear an expression that is a mix of irritated and amused. "make your damn wish!"

in between wheezy cackles, yaku hunches over a chair and blows out his candle, an steamy darkness engulfing the room as he does so. it's 5AM, so it's not especially bright outside, but the moon shines just enough that you can make out his toned silhouette in it's light.

he saunters towards you and captures your lips in his for a kiss charged with passion and love, he pulls you in close by your waist, and lets his hands wander downwards to grip your thighs. his soft lips work against yours in a rhythmic yet desirious manner, only parting for a gasp of air.

you meet each other's heavy gaze for a moment, until you lean forward and rest your head against his strong chest. he whispers into your hair, "thank you, baby."

you smile, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his hands trail over your supple skin, "don't thank me yet. i haven't even gave you your present."

"oh, sweet girl." he momentarily tightens his holds on you and presses an open-mouthed kiss against your neck, "i don't need a present. you're all i want and more."

you can't help but blush a little at his kind words. your hand finds his and you interlock fingers, as you slowly guide him under and up your shirt, so he gets a feel for your lacey undergarments. "i think you need this present."

he perks up at the realisation, a sly smirk tugging at lips as he feels you up, "you're right."

upon hearing his agreement, you keep a hold of his hand but pull away from the embrace, in order to guide him to the bedroom. however, he jerks you back towards him, his firm hold your lower back keeping you in place.

"no, baby. here." he commands, lifting your top up, and you instinctually raise your arms. once it's off, he tosses it onto the floor and bites his lips at the sight of your new lingerie. how it holds your tits so nicely, and covers just enough to make him want to rip it off.

naturally, he squeezes your waist as he pounces at your tits, indulging in the soft sensation against his cheeks and getting high off your intoxicating scent. he kisses up from your tits to your neck, occassionally stopping to leave love bites. one his hands eagerly slides down your shorts, and you kick it away, leaving you in the skimpy lingerie panties.

he takes a greedy handful of your ass, kneeding the flesh while his mouth keenly works at leaving a deep hickey on your neck. you moan, arching your back against the table and pressing your tits against his chest. "yaku.."

once he's satisfied with the mark he's left, he stops, only to grip your chin and force you to meet his gaze. "(y/n)?"

you're barely able to stay off of each other for a second, as you insantly slam your lips against one anothers again. he leans into your with such vigour and utilises his grip on your thighs to spin your around and push you down against the kitchen table, right beside the cake.

you moan into the heated kiss as your back makes contact with its cool wooden surface. he pries away, so he can stand at the edge, with your legs situated on his shoulders. two of his fingers delve between your folds, rubbing widely through your labia to soak up your juices and hooking around the fabric of your panties to move it aside.

"s' wet.." he muses, admiring your exposed figure beneath him, "such a good girl. dressed up all sexy for me." he prods at your enterance, pressing down to tease you without slipping in yet.

"got me so hard." he says while pulling down his shorts to free his length, aligning it with your pussy. "you gonna help me, (y/n)?"

you nod silently in response, but then shut your eyes tight and whine as yaku squeezes his tip inside your aching hole. a low grunt is brought out of him in response to your tight walls enveloping him, so snugly. it's like he couldn't breathe, you've truly knocked the wind out of him. he's inclined to force himself all the way in, he wants every inch of you, but he likes seeing you squirm when your desperate for more.

"since it's my birthday," he pants, watching heave of your chest and twitch of your neck. "can i cum inside?"

you nod again, and this time a shriek is prised from your throat as he pushes himself in all the way, his thick cock piercing into you. "perfect." he groans, establishing a steady yet zealous pace, "so good t' me."

even with each forceful buck of his hips, his weary smile doesn't waver, as he's entirely enamoured by the way your tits bounce with each thrust, how your nipples threaten to escape the confines of your black lace bra.

that's the least of your concerns though, as your focussed on coping with the sheer amount of pleasure yaku sends surging through you. his cock drills relentlessly into your pussy and you find yourself out of breathe at how your walls have to contort to fit him all inside you. you can feel every movement; each drag of his dick and jab of his tip.

it's so addicting, your eyes flutter shut and you throw your head back, starting to lose yourself in the fog of lust and bliss. though you're hastily snapped back by a harsh sting of pain against your thigh, brought on by the swift slap of yaku's palm.

"fuck." he groans, biting his lip to prevent the further stream of profanities and mindless comments about your gorgeous body or the obscene things he wants to do to you.

he continues to pound into you, observing your lewd facial expressions with a smile, "feels good, baby?"

the only intelligble reason you're able to give is a brief nod of your head, and a meek, "yes.." which is likely drowned out by your moans. yaku gets the message, though, there's not a sign on you that he'll ever miss.

something heavy grows in the pit of your stomach, until you felt like you were on the verge of exploding. "yaku, 'm close." you mewl, to which he rapidly nods in agreement. "me too."

his pace becomes wild and feverish as he nears an orgasm, the way his dick hungrily slams into you draws you closer to your own climax. his thick tip, leaking with precum, scratches an itch inside your tender walls that you didn't know you had.

soon enough, the heavy pool inside you begins to overflow; it's euphoric, your eyes roll back into your head and your entire body tenses to cope with your sweet release, accompanied by an elongated moan.

and of course, watching you come undone around his firm cock resulted in yaku spilling his seed into you shortly after, grinding his teeth togther as it happens. the sensation of your homey walls encasing him and his own fluids was like nothing he's ever experienced before, and his breath hitched as he was forced out.

being the first time he's ever left his load in your pussy, he wants to make sure he does it right. thus, he reaches down between your legs and pushes his cum deep into you, not risking any of it leaking out. once he's done, and notices his fingers are coated, he hovers them in front of your lips and watches as you lick them clean. observant as ever, he notes the slightly grimace that crosses your features at the taste.

he chuckles and digs his finger into the cake that's right beside your head so it is covered with frosting, which he then shoves into your mouth. he slowly drags it back out, amused by how thorough you are. "that taste better?" he inquires.

"mm." you furrow your brows in thought, "no. too much sugar."

#yaku morisuke #yaku x reader #yaku haikyuu #haikyuu yaku #yaku smut #yaku x you #morisuke yaku #haikyuu!!#haikyuu time skip #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu smut

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lucabyte · 5 months

Note

obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

#PHEW THIS IS LONG. i wrote some extra footnotes and tidied it up a bit. but uh. here you go! my personal headcanon baseline for postcanon.#i could probably elaborate more but that would get unwieldy. like i have opinions on loop's dynamics w each party member but. LONG POST...#lucabytetalks #isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time #isat loop #isiloop #sloopis #WONT be tagging everyone thats absurd. loop centric post though with a chunk about nille at the end #isat act 6 spoilers

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highhhfiveee · 11 months

Note

okay here me out. abby teasing reader about having a crush on mike, and when he's around very 'subtle' teasing from abby to reader... SORRY IF THIS DOESNT MAKE SENSE BUT ITS BEEN ON MY MIND.

it makes sense! i was working on a little ficlet for the "mint" series and i think this works with it (,:

self care

a "mint" ficlet. read the og here: 🍫

wc: 2k tags: mint!mike and reader, fluff, no warnings, just cute stuff (:

mike lets out a long sigh as he turns the car off, rubbing his hands down his face. security work is exhausting, and while he understands working overnight shifts, he doesn't see how it's healthy.

he's always tired, always irritable, always ready to call it quits and say "fuck work", staying home until he's caught up on his winks.

it would be a dream for him, he thinks, but he knows it's not realistic. he's doing this to better his life, better abby's life; it would all be worth it in the end, he hoped.

he exits the car with no urgency, trotting his way to the front door. he's excited to see you and abby, eager to sit and eat breakfast with you guys, tell you about his night.

he turns the knob and it gives with no trouble, which makes his heart rate tick up. the door is never unlocked.

he bursts inside frantically, beginning to panic a bit when he sees that you aren't in your usual spot on the couch, cuddled into one of the blankets or sweeping your green mint wrappers into your hand. the tv wasn't on. there wasn't anything happening in the kitchen.

it was eerily quiet, too quiet for his liking.

"y/n?" he calls, wildly hanging his security vest and kicking off his shoes. "abby?"

mike wonders why the two of you aren't answering, beginning down the hall with his hands balled into anxious fists. what if something had happened to you two? what if he went into one of the rooms and found something undesirable, something that turned him frigid and reserved? what if someone had hurt you?

the light's on in the bathroom, framing the closed door in a fuzzy ring of yellow gold. mike hears voices, muffled but persistent, and music. it's all it takes for him to lean against the door, grip the doorknob and count down before he charges into the wood, slamming the door open and yelling into the bathroom.

you and abby squeal, bodies wracked with fear. you both have green paste all over your faces, spread around your eyes and mouths in a precise layer. you're holding onto your chest as you try to calm down, tapping on your phone to stop the music you're playing. abby heaves angrily, marching over to mike and giving him a moderately powered shove. "not funny, mike!"

"i wasn't trying to be funny," he utters, huffing along with you two. "i thought someone had broken in or something. the door was unlocked and i called for both of you but you didn't answer. i was terrified." you frown, shaking your head in disappointment at yourself.

"i'm really sorry, mike. i took the trash out earlier and i guess i forgot to lock the door when i came back in. i would never try to put abby in harm's way."

"no, no, it's okay," mike returns, taking a deep-rooted sigh of relief now that he knows you two are safe. "i know you wouldn't. mistakes happen, i just lost it a little. wouldn't want anything to ever happen to you two."

your cheeks heat up at "you two". you're flattered that he cares about your safety at the same level that he cares about abby's, or at all really. you knew that abby meant everything to him, but you wondered just how much you meant to him, exactly.

"that's totally understandable. sorry i didn't hear you calling either, we were kind of caught up in the music and face masks," you chuckle shyly, pulling the sleeves of the forest green sweatshirt you were wearing over your hands. it's mike's sweatshirt, one that he thinks he remembers giving to abby sometime ago. you look good in it.

"y/n was teaching me about 'self care', and how doing little things for myself is important. we started with skincare, see?" abby places her hands under her chin, using them to hold her face as she smiles.

it hadn't been your plan to use your $40 face mask on abby this morning, but you didn't mind. you'd been in the bathroom, humming along to the soothing ambient music that floated from your phone speakers and smothering your face in green like you'd be starring in Wicked when she appeared in the doorframe, bleary eyed and lethargic. "may i pee?"

you exited the bathroom and closed the door behind you, opening it back up once you heard the toilet flush and the faucet run. "what's on your face?" she asked, shaking the water off of her hands.

"it's a face mask. this one is my personal favorite. it's specifically for moisturizing the skin, but there are so many other ones that do different things. i do them sometimes as a part of self care."

"what's self care?"

"i can explain it to you. want to try some of the mask after you brush your teeth?" she nodded happily, beginning to shed any trace of sleepiness.

"my skin is a bit dry." you laughed at her, helping her with her toothbrush. after, you'd sat her on the bathroom counter, scooping product with your middle and ring fingers and smearing it across abby's delicate skin.

"so, it's just like...taking care of yourself? literal self care?" you nodded, filling in whatever gaps you could find.

"mhm. just doing small things to make yourself feel better, happy, more fulfilled. we all need to take care of ourselves, living these lives. it's important to remember to take time for yourself when you need it, okay? taking breaks is good. humans need rest."

"mike never rests," she admitted, pouting at the thought of mike working all the time, tired and distant from the strain on his mental and physical health. "i don't even think he knows what rest is."

"i'm sure he does, he's just working hard to make sure you're never in need. he cares about you a lot, and wants you to be safe, and happy, and taken care of."

"which is nice," abby muttered, turning to look at her face in the mirror. she smiled, humming in contentment before facing you again. "i just wish he would go do something. take off from work and go out. go on a date." you jovially scoff at her words, tickling at her abdomen.

"what do you know about dating, huh? does mike even like dates?"

"i think he'd like a date with you." your entire body flushed with mortification, and you stepped back from abby, stumbling over your words with nervous laughter.

"t-t-there's no way he would, abby. that's silly. i don't even like him like that, it would be unprofessional..." you bit at your bottom lip, avoiding abby's eyes.

"oh please. you're my unpaid babysitter, not a salaried nanny," she reassured curtly, and you frowned at her, playfully insulted. "plus, i know you have a crush on him, y/n. it's so obvious. i saw you nearly die when he gave you those mints. i'm sure he see stuff like that too if he wasn't so clueless about everything."

you nodded, gnawing at your bottom lip so hard you drew blood. "well, jeez, thank you for the exposé, abby. still, i don't think he feels the same way. he has no time to think about me." abby only squinted at you, her lips pursed with amusement.

"or so you think." you'd waved her off, pivoting the subject by showing her your skincare collection, explaining all the different tubes and bottles. you'd fanned them out over the counter, grouping things by step.

"and this is vitamin c...usually comes before your moisturizer and helps with dark spots, dullness...you have to wear sunscreen when you wear it, but you should be wearing sunscreen everyday anyway bec----"

mike had burst in at this moment, scaring the shit out of both you and abby. how you'd forgotten to lock the door, you didn't know, but you're glad mike had gotten home before anyone else could enter.

now, mike just tiredly returns his sister's smile. "that's nice, abs."

"yeah, was telling y/n that you should try it. you need to rest and take care of yourself." mike nods, pursing his lips in that tickled way that abby did earlier.

"that so? do a couple of face masks, take a bath, and make some tea to renew myself?"

"sounds like a plan to me," abby cheers, looking towards you. "add going on a date to the list and now, we're talkin'."

"a date?" mike ridicules, shaking his head at abby's frivolous suggestion. "a date with who?"

"i may know someone," abby teases, winking over at you so unmistakably that you're sure you're going to combust with the number of times you've flushed hot. "someone not too far, in fact."

mike can tell that abby is killing you, prodding at your private, adult feelings and decides to make her stop. "okay, abs, that's enough. wash your face while i go talk to y/n, okay? and no eavesdropping."

"i can try, but not promise."

"abby," mike asserts, and she shrinks under his serious stare, mumbling, "okay, okay, jeez."

you follow mike out into the living room, once again tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt. it drapes over you nicely, about one size too big, and the color looks so nice against your skin, rich and earthy.

"thanks for looking after her, as always," he commends, eyes still trained on you as you return his kindness with a soft "yeah, always. sorry again about the door." but mike dismisses your apology with a wave.

after a moment, he says, "that sweatshirt's nice," rubbing his fingers against his stubbled chin.

you drop your gaze down, smiling at the clothing item. you liked it a lot. it was super comfy and smelled like their place, pacifying you through the late night and early morning. "oh thanks. i left my sweater at home and abby let me borrow this one. it's so cute on her but it's super big."

"yeah," mike snickers, letting out some air through his nose. "that's 'cause it's mine." your body's color is replaced with flaming red, burning from the top of your forehead to the soles of your feet. how many more times could you be embarrassed this morning?

"oh my god, i'm so sorry. here, i can give it back," you panic, beginning to pull the item over your head, careful to not get your face mask on it. mike stops you with a hand to your elbow, a gentle graze that doesn't move even when you have the sweatshirt back over your torso.

"hey, hey, no need. i gave it to her but i like how it looks on you. you look really beautiful...face mask and all." you blush vehemently, whimpering out "thank you" and bringing your thumb to your mouth to gnaw at so you don't say something else you might regret. you're sure mike can read your jitteriness, and you try to slip into a cool girl attitude when his eyes toss coyness your way.

you'd been babysitting abby for a while, and something about the way you continued to despite the hours and not being paid softened mike. of course he intended on paying you, but even when he did, he would always remember you as so kind, so generous; such a beautiful soul in a beautiful body.

"so...about that date?" he proposes, and the two of you hear a hushed, "yes!" around the corner of the wall. you both turn towards it, catching abby as she runs across the hall to her room.

"abby!"

"i said try!"

how flipping CUTE! i love cute shit like this, and after writing so much smut, it was nice to write something oh so sweet (((: gonna be posting smut next though lmao, just something slight, something slight. hope you enjoyed!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #faire’s (mint) mike schmidt <3 #faire answers asks #josh hutcherson #i love sweet shit like this #makes me want to be in a relationship #but only like 4 out of 7 days of the week #people are exhausting lmao #faire is writing stuff

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marvelouslizzie · 1 year

Text

No One Else Matters

Summary: Things between you and Bucky Barnes have been going great until an Avengers dinner party reminds you of that one night you spent with Steve Rogers. Now you are afraid that the meaningless past hook-up might jeopardize your future with Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, secret relationship, alcohol consumption but no one is drunk, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v (on birth control and clean), begging, pet names, dirty talk, mentions of past hook up with Steve Rogers, eavesdropping, no mention of y/n

A/N: Another random idea that turned into a one-shot thanks to my amazing friends. Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. Also, some lines belong to her because she helped shape the story and I appreciate it a lot!

This story isn't any form of Steve Rogers hate. I just wanted to write a story like this and it wouldn't work with anyone else besides Steve. If you don't want to read a story where Steve is a past hook-up that didn't work out well, please stay away from the story.

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me. I would love to answer questions or start a conversation as long as it doesn't include any kind of hate.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Coming to this Avengers dinner might have been a big mistake. Essentially you were looking forward to this night because it had been a while since you saw your co-workers. Some are more like friends than co-workers, but working for SHIELD keeps everyone busy. Small events like this help people to get together, catch up and maybe plan other stuff for the future, but tonight feels somewhat different.

You were enjoying yourself until you saw Bucky and Steve casually chatting on the other side of the room. That doesn’t happen very often and it reminds you of things you'd rather not think about. Things that happened years ago. Like that one time, you hooked up with Steve. It was buried so deep into your memory, you simply forgot about it and it’s not like you see Steve that often. Occasionally, his team asks for your help and you try to do your best. And you have been nothing but friendly to each other since that night. You remember him taking it pretty well when you said you’d rather stay friends with him. He probably wasn’t looking for a relationship anyways.

It was before everyone found out HYDRA was nesting inside SHIELD for years. He was simply the golden boy. The first Avenger who unexpectedly returned. A savior. Everyone was in awe of him and tried to be their best version. It felt like a fairytale came true.

The problem is whenever people make an idol of someone expectations go over the roof. And when you meet that person, see what they are like up close, you just notice he’s just like anyone else. Even though they didn’t do anything wrong or bad, it still feels somehow disappointing.

He was different than what you expected him to be. You noticed that pretty quickly and decided to keep things professional. It worked out amazingly until… now. You look around, trying to calm yourself down, keeping that memory to yourself because this is definitely not the time to bring it up.

When the dinner finally starts, it turns out to be a good distraction. You chat with whoever is around you about recent missions, the latest gossip, and things SHIELD is planning to do in the near future. But your eyes keep wandering towards Bucky, who is seated across the table. It’s a huge relief to see Steve and him aren’t seated together or even close to each other. Everyone knows they used to be good friends, but that’s not the case anymore. Since Bucky is back to himself and started to work for SHIELD, things went downhill for their friendship. They slowly drifted apart.

You try hard not to glance back at him again, but he’s looking at you. That makes things even harder. You notice how his lips form a small smile whenever your eyes meet and how he tries to play it off as something he did because of his conversation. But you know his smile is caused by you and even though you don’t want to accept that, it melts your heart a little more.

After the dessert is served, people start to focus on their drinks more. Different groups are forming, and when you want to take check on Bucky, he quickly tilts his head to the right, signaling you to leave the room and meet him. You look around to see if anyone noticed, but no one’s focus is on you two.

You do nothing but watch him discreetly walk away first, without waiting for an answer. He knows you will follow. And that’s exactly what you do: you place your empty glass on the counter and leave the room as subtly as he did. What you don’t notice is that someone actually has been watching you very closely.

You have no idea where Bucky went exactly, so you start to wander around, trying to guess where he’d choose to hide until he grabs you with his arm, pulling you inside an empty room before quickly locking the door.

“Bucky!” A half-yelp leaves your lips, but it’s muffled by his hand.

“It’s me,” he whispers against your ear before he starts to kiss your neck sloppily. “Relax.”

He doesn’t waste any time. His hands are everywhere on your body: grabbing your breasts over the clothes, squeezing your ass.

“I missed you.” His breathy whisper gives you goosebumps.

“Oh, I missed you, too.” You grab his face with both of your hands and finally kiss him properly. He happily sighs and lets you take control. His lips are soft, tasting like bourbon, which surprises you because he is usually a beer kind of guy. Maybe he decided to try something different tonight since he isn’t the one paying.

That reminds you of the party and everyone inside. Including Steve Rogers. Bucky’s ex-best friend. And that make the anxious feeling in your gut returns. You need to tell him about what happened between you and Steve. Even if you’re afraid that it would change everything between you two. But you aren’t ready to lose him. Not when you’ve just started to realize how strong your feelings are for him.

He doesn’t fail to notice the shift in your mood. You aren’t as present in the kiss as if you have something on your mind. He stops kissing you unexpectedly, making you give him a confused look.

“Are you okay?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

You take a deep breath. Maybe it’s just better to tell him now and get it over with. What’s the point of delaying the inevitable?

“I gotta tell you something.”

You see how his concern grows even more. His expression is serious and full of worry.

“Do you want to break this off? Is that what it is?”

God, the way he asked that question just hurts something inside you. He sounded so broken, so afraid.

“No, no! Of course not.” You quickly clear the air, leaving no space for any kind of misunderstanding. “But you might wanna break things off with me after I tell you… this.”

You can see how your words confuse him. He squints, trying to understand what you are talking about and coming up with a reasonable explanation. You know whatever he’ll think about won’t be even close to the reality, but you didn’t expect his response either.

“Are you pregnant? Is that why you are nervous?” His hand caresses your cheek as he asks you. “You know I wouldn’t leave you for something like that, right? We can do whatever you want. It’s totally up to you.”

No, you aren’t pregnant. That’s not even a possibility. You’ve been on birth control even before you two started to have sex. Still, hearing his soft-spoken words makes you melt inside.

“No, baby, I’m not pregnant.”

You both take a breath after eliminating another possibility. He looks at you fora few seconds, trying to decide if he should say it or not.

“Is it about you dating Steve?”

Words can’t describe how surprised you are. Questions flood your mind instantly. How much does he know? When did he find out? Who told him? And dating? No, you definitely did not date Steve Rogers. God, you have so many questions to ask. You don’t know where to start.

“You know about that.” It comes out more like a question than a statement. The shock is so clear in your voice.

“Of course, I know.”

“How? When?” The questions come out one after another and make him smile a little. You stop yourself from asking even more and decide to make one thing clear. “And I did not date him. It was a one-time thing.”

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. Maybe he thought it was more serious, but if so why didn’t he bring it up before?

“When did you find out?” You have to know.

“Not so long ago.”

“Who told you?”

“Sam. He thought there was some kind of tension between you two, but I couldn’t see it. So he explained.” He doesn’t sound like it bothers him much, which is relieving.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same.”

He’s right. He can ask the same question. Your answer is simple, though.

“I actually forgot it happened.” Is he really smiling? “It wasn’t that memorable to me.”

“That bad, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh. God, you love him so much. You were worried sick about how he would react and here he is joking about it.

“Do you want an actual answer?” You finally ask.

“Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t seem to mind.

“It was okay.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “So it was bad.”

“Like I said, not memorable.” You choose to repeat. You don’t wanna disrespect him that much, but you don’t even remember much about it. That was one of the reasons you wanted to stay friends anyway.

“Doll, it’s fine.” He finally decides to answer you seriously.

“So you don’t mind?”

“It was way before us. It’s not my place to judge you for it.”

That’s a huge relief. You were so worried he would just choose some kind of bro code over you but no. He chose you. You breathe out with a smile on your face.

“And if someone is gonna get judged for their past, it’s not gonna be you.”

You instantly frown because you understood immediately what he meant by it.

“That’s not the same thing. I chose to hook up with him. You didn’t choose to get brainwashed.”

“Yeah, of course, but I am the one who killed those people.”

“Bucky, no.” You touch his chest, trying to comfort him without realizing it. “Don’t go there. Please. That’s not a fair comparison.” You want him to be free of this guilt. He’s trying to redeem himself so hard, it has to end somewhere.

“Fine.” He finally accepts it. “I don’t care about your past. I only care about your present and future. Is that better?”

“Yes, it is better.” You wrap your arms around his neck and close the distance. “You are always so forgiving, yet you are so harsh to yourself.”

“As long as you are mine, I don’t care about anything.”

That does it. An unexpected jolt of arousal overwhelms you. Suddenly, you don’t feel shy anymore.

“Can you…” You try to collect your words. “Can you fuck me like you did the last time?” Asking that out loud feels a little weird. Maybe you should’ve drunk a bit more.

You watch as his eyes widen in response. Oh, he wants that as much as you do. No need to feel shy.

“Which position exactly?” He sounds so cheeky, but you can see his question is genuine. He needs additional info because it wasn’t a one-and-done.

“Against the wall.” You bit your lip, remembering how good it felt. So rough, yet so full of pleasure. You can’t help but shiver when you remember that orgasm.

“Fuck.” He surpasses a moan. “We have to be quiet, doll. Can you do that for me?” His voice is really low.

You eagerly nod in response. You aren’t sure if you can actually do it, but you will try your best if he’s going to do what you asked for.

“God, I love you so much.” You can’t hold yourself back anymore. Hearing those words from him sparks something unstoppable inside you. Grabbing him by the face, you crash your lips against him.

“I love you, Bucky.” You keep kissing him. “So much.” Your hands move south, unbuckling him as quickly as possible.

Your movements are rushed but not sloppy. Like you did this a million times before. It feels familiar, but it doesn’t change how much you need him. Urgently. And he doesn’t seem to mind that your act as if you are in a hurry. When you finally unbutton his pants, they pool around his ankles, and that’s when he decides to lift you up. His hands stay under your ass while he presses you against the wall, your dress already curled up around your waist.

“Are you ready for me, doll?” He asks with that voice he uses when he’s really aroused. It turns you on even more and you didn’t know that was possible.

“Yes.” You want him inside you so much. You need his lips on you. “Please, Bucky, I need you.”

“You do?” Oh, youknow this tone too well. He loves to tease you and make you talk more about what you want, and it’s always so rewarding. So you don’t hold back.

“Please, fuck me, I need your cock so badly.” Even though it’s dimly lit inside the room, you see the shift in his eyes. Your words are feeding some kind of primal need inside him. “I need you, baby, please. I’m so wet.”

“Let’s see if that’s true.” He holds you with one hand and aligns himself to your entrance with the other. You shouldn’t be surprised by how strong he is, but every time he manages to astonish you. He doesn’t even struggle to carry or hold you. When he finally thrusts inside you, a loud moan escapes your lips. The stretch is so fucking delicious. “Shh.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You quickly try to apologize. “It just feels ssso good.” A low moan follows your words.

“You know I love to hear you, doll.” He starts moving. “I love how you always beg for more.” His free hand goes to your head, pushing a strand of hair back so he can see your face better. “But this time we need to keep it quiet. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.”

That makes him smile. You wrap your hands around his neck again, wanting to be close to him. That’s when you both hear a sound really close to you. So close that you feel like it came right at the door. You both still for a second, listening to find out if someone is outside, but there’s no more sound. So that noise is long forgotten in a minute.

You don’t even care if someone is outside. You don’t care if someone hears you fucking. Bucky Barnes loves you. No one else matters. Your lips clash against his. It’s such a sloppy kiss, but you love every second of it. His hand moves to your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound on you.

“Is this how you wanted it?” He keeps asking, wanting you to speak, but you can't. “Is it that good you went speechless?”

You nod eagerly.

“Come on, darling. Use your words.” He’s moving relentlessly, taking your breath away with each stroke.

“Yes.” You finally manage to say. “Oh god, yes.”

“Yes to what?” He taunts you. “Is that what you wanted or is it that good?”

“Both!” You say louder than you intended, then you remember you promised to be good and you lower your voice. “Yes to both!”

“Good girl.” His flesh hand travels to your neckline. He quickly pushes the straps of your dress down more, finally revealing your breasts. You aren’t wearing a bra, thanks to the padded dress. “God, look at you.” He marvels at you. “Such a pretty little doll. All mine.”

His mouth latches on your right breast, sucking and biting it while he keeps moving. He knows how to use his mouth well everywhere. It makes everything so much better. You can feel that pleasure starts to bottle up, your abdomen tensing.

Oh, he truly knows how to get you there. He knows how much you love it when you two climax together. It feels heavenly… like you are in your own little world and there’s no one but him there. Nothing else matters. As your legs start to shake with overwhelming pleasure, you imagine going back inside, talking to others while his come is dripping out of you. No one would know what you two were up to. Not a single soul. It’s your little secret. The thought makes you moan a little bit louder. Your hands grip hard on his shoulders.

Bucky moans right next to your ear. “God, you feel so good.” His hands are gripping hard on your ass. “I wish I can stay inside you forever. I don’t wanna move. I don’t wanna go anywhere else. I just wanna keep fucking you, until you beg me to stop.” Does he know what his words do to you? Does he notice how it amplifies your orgasm? Or does he just say whatever he wants to say? “I’m gonna come.” He warns you. “I’m gonna come, baby. I’m gonna come.”

You ride your orgasms together, as he empties himself inside you. His head falls on your shoulder while he keeps holding you. His lips press against the crook of your neck. While you keep taking deep breaths, you can feel his heart racing.

“Are you okay?” He asks while moving away enough to take himself out of you.

“Okay?” You question as he gently puts you on your feet. “I feel amazing.”

You lift yourself on your tiptoes and give him a full wet kiss.

“Now I believe you.” He gives you a little smile that only makes you want to kiss him again.

“I’ll be louder when we go home so you won’t have an ounce of doubt.”

“Yours or mine?” His question comes instantly.

“I don’t care.” You really don’t. All you want is him. Where, when, and how are just details.

He helps you shape your hair back to normal while you pull the stripes up. Your underwear is a mess and you are dripping out already. Bucky takes a napkin out of his pocket and kneels in front of you. He gently pushes the serviette between your folds, cleaning you up enough so you can go back inside.

“Thank you.” You love it when he takes care of you like this. “But you know that won’t be enough. I will keep dripping all night.”

“I’m counting on that.” You can see on his face how much that thought excites him. “Keep dripping onto your underwear while talking to others. Remember what we did here. Imagine what we will do later.” He stands up while you fix your dress and you realize that you can’t wait to leave this party already.

“You have such a dirty mouth. I love it.” You grab his face with one hand and just force him to kiss you. Not that you can actually force him to do anything, but he lets you anyway. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

It’s been a while since you returned to the party. Everything seems normal. No one even realized you were absent. No one is suspecting anything. That encourages you to look around for Bucky. When your eyes meet, he gives you a teasing smile while casually chatting with Sam.

The whole night you didn’t say a word to him. Not around other people. But you don't see any reason to keep avoiding him. Everyone knows you two are friendly. So you decide to walk over and chat a little.

“Oh, look who remembered us!” Sam jokes as soon as he notices you.

“Hello to you too, Sam.” You don’t mind his teasing. “Good to see you missed me.”

“Hey.” Bucky raises his beer bottle to casually greet you. He probably got tired of the bourbon.

“How are you, fellas?”

“Oh you know, missions and drinks. Same stuff,” Bucky answers your question.

“Nothing new?” You tease him, just to see how he would react.

“Nope. Just little old me doing the same things.”

“Really, I keep telling him to go on a date or something but no. He prefers this misery instead.”

You try to surpass a smile forming on your lips, well aware of the exact reason why he’s declining the offer.

While you’re staring at each other, Sam notices Steve on the other side of the room and raises his hand.

“Hey, Rogers!”

That’s definitely the last thing you need tonight, but there’s no way you can stop Sam. Steve joins your group in a couple of seconds, but for some reason, he looks… kinda miserable.

“You alright, man?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He absently answers. “I’m fine. Feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Maybe that super serum is finally wearing off.” Sam jokes and it manages to make Steve smile for a second.

“How are you all?” Steve asks while looking at the whole group, but his eyes stay on you for a bit longer than the rest.

“Oh, we are fine. We were talking about the lack of Mr. Barnes’s dating life.”

God, he isn’t going to let that go, is he?

“Speaking of dating…” Sam continues while taking his phone off. “I met this guy the other day and he’s perfect for you!” Is he talking to you? He shows you a photo of this blonde guy who honestly looks alright, but he’s practically a stranger. “He’s a good guy and he fits your type. I can give your his number if you want.”

“What the fuck, Sam?” Your response makes the rest laugh. “You are playing matchmaker now?”

“I mean… someone gotta do it and I was hoping you would find someone to return the favor for me.”

You look at Bucky just to see he’s kind of enjoying this while Steve looks thoughtful for some reason.

“That’s definitely not my type.”

“Really?” Sam side-eyes Steve for a second to see his reaction, but it’s like he already knew that.

“And I am already seeing someone, so…”

“Wait a second!” Sam sounds surprised. “You are seeing someone? Since when?”

“Why are you so surprised? You thought I would inform you about my love life or something?” Bucky is laughing quietly on the side, and Sam looks a little uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. I thought you were single. You are already off the market, huh?”

Bucky subtly nods to his last comment but doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah, it seems so.” You put your drink on the nearest surface and stretch your neck a little.

“Tired?” Bucky asks this time.

“Yes. I’m thinking about leaving. Maybe I should call an Uber or something.” You make a move to take your phone out.

“Actually… I was considering the same thing. I can drop you home, you can save up the money.”

“Really?” You didn’t expect him to offer to leave with you. Usually, one of you leaves first and the other follows, but maybe after tonight's events, he decided that there’s no reason to hide anymore. “Sure, that'd be great.”

You see Sam rolling his eyes. “There go hours of effort.”

“You wanted to leave before?” It’s obvious you are talking to Bucky.

“No, not really, but he assumes that and tries to talk me into staying every time.” You start to laugh. It’s not hard to imagine why Sam thinks he’d rather be somewhere else.

“Sorry, Sam, but we are old. Apparently we need more sleep.” You are mocking yourself and Bucky at the same time, wondering how he’ll react.

“He is old, but you… not so much.”

“My soul is old and that’s enough.” You raise both of your hands and wave a goodbye. “Anyways, time to go. Good to see both of you.” Your thumbs and index fingers move around like two guns pointed at Sam and Steve.

“Good night,” Bucky simply adds.

While you two quietly walk away, Sam is already suspecting something is up.

“Did I drink too much or is there something going on between them?” Sam asks when you are far enough not to hear it.

“They are together.” Steve tries to sound as casual as possible.

“Wait! Really?” He thought something was just blooming between you two, not a full on relationship. “How do you know?”

“I heard them.” Steve notices how it sounds and quickly adds: “Talking.”

“And you are okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure.” That doesn’t sound convincing at all. “It’s not my place to say anything. It was never that serious.” He isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince Sam or himself. “I mean… I think she’d want to get serious, but she talked about staying friends and I jumped on the opportunity and agreed because I didn’t want a relationship.”

Sam nods. “Well, good for them I guess. They seem like a good match.”

“They really do.”

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